by Nick Thacker
Cesar smiled sadly. “He’s my nephew. We talk, occasionally.”
“Oh.”
“For the record,” Cesar said as he walked around his desk and sat down, “I’m not gonna judge you for steering clear of your mom. You didn’t ask my opinion, I’m not gonna offer it. Fair enough?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said, feeling worse than ever. “I appreciate that.”
“So,” Cesar clapped his hands together. “To business. What’d you decide?”
“Your friend said I could start right away?”
“Just as soon as you can get there. You have a car?”
“No sir. But I can hitch. It’s no problem.”
Cesar frowned. “I wish there was something more I could do for you. If you want me to talk to Lucas, maybe he could give you a ride -”
“No, thanks,” Ben said. “At this point, he’d probably toss me out on the side of the road, anyway.” Cesar grinned. “Thanks, anyway, Mr. Gòdia. I can hitch a ride and be there in no time.”
“So - you’ll take it?”
“I think I’d better. Nothing going for me around here at the moment, and I get the feeling this is an opportunity I probably won’t get again.”
“All right,” Cesar said. “I’ll let him know you’re on your way.” He slid a plain white business card across the table, and Ben picked it up.
TRAVIS MEEHAN
BEAR MANAGEMENT SPECIALIST
YELLOWSTONE NATIONAL PARK
There was a small National Park logo in the upper right hand corner of the card, and a phone number in the bottom right. “You just call Travis when you get to the park. He’ll take good care of you.”
“Thank you so much, Mr. Gòdia. I owe you, big-time.” Ben smiled. “Again.”
Gòdia returned the smile and stood up. “Don’t mention it.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did,” Cesar said, grinning. “But go ahead and ask another, anyway.”
“Do you know what exactly I’ll be doing for -” he looked at the card again. “Travis?”
“Most likely, you’ll be his gopher to start out,” Cesar said. “He’s in charge of the bear management program at Yellowstone. I don’t know a lot about it, but I know he spends a lot of time out in the bush, tracking and tagging bears. There’s paperwork, too, but as far as jobs go, it’s a pretty good gig. If you do well, you might be able to work it into a permanent slot. Don’t worry. You won’t end up as a cubicle-monkey in that job.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Ben said. “I don’t exactly have a rosy history with bears.”
Cesar nodded. “Totally understandable. But sometimes, you have to face your demons to get rid of them. I realize taking this job is a huge stretch, but you never know. This might turn out to be good for you.”
“I hope so.” Ben stood and moved to the door. Cesar came around the desk and shook his hand.
“You’re a good kid, Harvey,” he said. “I wish you all the best. Just do me a favor?”
“Sure,” Ben said. “Name it.”
“Don’t leave the thing with your mom unresolved.” Ben’s face fell. “No, just hear me out, now,” Cesar insisted. “When you went camping with your dad, I’ll bet the last thing you ever expected to have happen was what did happen, am I right?”
Ben looked at him a moment, then nodded.
“Okay,” Cesar said. “So take it from an old guy who’s been around just a bit more than you have. You never know what’s gonna come on any given day. So, the best thing you can do is live every day like it’s your last, because someday, it’s gonna be. And when that happens, it’ll be too late to go back and fix all the things you messed up to that point. Believe me - I’ve had my share.”
A wave of guilt washed over Ben. “Thanks, Mr. Gòdia,” he said. “You’re right. I’ll go see my mom.”
“Good man,” Cesar said, slapping Ben on the shoulder. “Tell her I said hello.”
Ben did a double-take. “Wait - you know her?”
“It’s a small town, Harvey.” Cesar smiled and shook Ben’s hand again. “Good luck at Yellowstone, all right?”
Two hours later, Ben stood on his mom’s front porch, unsure if he should ring the bell or just walk in and announce himself. His mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but he figured it was probably in the garage. He’d almost decided to ring the bell when a voice behind him made him jump.
“They ain’t home.”
Ben turned around. A short, round kid stood on the lawn, chewing on a candy bar and looking wide-eyed at Ben like he was a circus freak.
“Hey, Joey,” Ben said. Zach’s sometime best friend had a knack for showing up when you least expected him. “You know where they went?”
“Sure do,” Joey said, taking another thoughtful bite out of his candy bar.
Ben waited.
Joey chewed.
Ben raised his eyebrows in anticipation, but Joey didn’t seem to be in a forthcoming mood. “Are you… gonna tell me where they went, Joey?”
“I dunno,” Joey said. “What’ll you give me?”
How about I jam the rest of that candy bar in your ear, you little twerp? Out loud, Ben just said, “I don’t have anything, Joey.”
“Bummer,” Joey said, slowly licking the inside of the candy bar wrapper as if he was in deep thought. “How about you owe me a candy bar, then?”
“Pay you next time I see you?” Which won’t be for several years, if I’m lucky.
“Sure!” Joey said.
Ben waited again, but Joey just stared at him, grinning. Ben raised his eyebrows. “Joey?”
“Yeah?”
“Where did they go, Joey?”
“Oh, yeah,” Joey said. “St. Louis.”
Ben’s maternal grandparents lived in St. Louis. “When did they leave?”
“That’ll cost ya another candy bar.”
“Oh, c’mon, kid, gimme a break.”
Joey just smiled.
“Fine. I’ll give you three candy bars, next time I see you, if you tell me everything right now. When did they leave, and when are they coming back?”
“Deal,” Joey said, stuffing the empty wrapper in a front pocket, while pulling a second bar from his back pocket. “They left on Monday. Be back in two weeks. I like Snickers. Don’t forget.” He turned and walked off.
Ben watched him go. He wanted to kick himself for not listening to Lucas the first time. Now it was too late, and Cesar’s warning suddenly made a lot of sense.
Sometimes, it’s too late to fix the things you screwed up.
Ben sat on the porch, putting the finishing touches on his scribbled note. He’d torn several pages from some of the Forest Service firefighting training handouts he still had in his pack, but each attempt at getting a sincere apology on paper ended with him wadding the sheet up and starting over. On the fourth or fifth try, he finally settled on something that summed things up as best as he could.
Dear Mom and Zach,
You probably heard that the Forest Service job didn’t work out so well. No excuses, but I hope you believe that I did my best, regardless of what you may have heard on the news. Ask Lucas if you want all the details.
Lucas’s uncle Cesar got me another job, this time working as an assistant to a game management specialist at Yellowstone. It’s temporary, but maybe it’ll turn into something more permanent after a while. I’ll let you know. Cesar said to tell you hello, by the way.
I just wanted to tell you both that I’m sorry about what happened, with Dad. I really tried to help him. I wish I’d have done better. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you both when you needed me. It was selfish to run off, and it was more selfish to stay away afterward. Guess that’s another thing I need to try to get better at. I hope you can forgive me.
I’m real sorry I missed you guys. I owe Joey a few candy bars for telling me where you were, but it’s worth it.
I love you both.
- Ben
P.S. I
’m going by Ben now - but you probably figured that out. Not sure why, really. It just felt right - new beginnings and all.
When he finished, Ben folded the paper three times, then stuck it between the screen door and the door jamb. Straightening up, he took a long look around the front of the house where he’d spent his entire life, up until a couple of weeks ago. He felt a pang of loss, knowing that even if he did come back here someday, it would never be his home again. He took a deep breath, then turned and walked away, headed for the freeway. It seemed like he was constantly heading for the freeway, these days.
Ben had no way of knowing that the next day, a wind storm would blow open the screen door that he hadn’t quite latched securely, and his note would be carried away on the wind, unopened and unnoticed.
He’d walked almost ten miles out of Twin Falls with his thumb in the air at his side before someone finally pulled over and gave him a lift. He’d been lucky the few times he’d hitched before, hardly ever having to walk more than a couple of miles between rides. He found he didn’t really mind much though, since the time alone gave him a chance to think.
He worried about the new job he was going to. How was he going to handle working with bears? What if he did freak out? It suddenly occurred to him that Cesar Gòdia might not have mentioned to this Travis character that Ben had killed two bears, and lost his father to one of them. Would that somehow disqualify him? He was thinking he should get to a phone and call Cesar to ask him, when a pickup pulled up next to him.
“A dónde vas?” The driver was a Hispanic man with a broad grin. He was leaning across two other men in the front seat to talk to Ben, and there were five more men in the bed of the truck.
“Yellowstone,” Ben said.
The driver gave him a blank look. “Dónde?”
Ben didn’t want to try to explain. “East,” he said, pointing.
“Subir al camión,” the man said, grinning again and jerking his thumb toward the truck bed.
“Gracias,” Ben said, climbing over the side. The men in the back nodded at him, but made no effort to speak. Ben worked himself into the rear corner against the tailgate, and settled in to watch the farmland roll by. He’d spent almost his entire life within a hundred miles of Twin Falls, and now he couldn’t help wondering if he’d ever be back. The idea that the only place he’d ever known as home might not be the only place for him struck like a sudden weight, and he found himself wondering if he really belonged anywhere. He was still wondering when he drifted off to a dreamless sleep, his chin sagging onto his chest as the exhaustion of the past few weeks finally caught him.
He woke suddenly as one of the other men in the truck gently shook his shoulder. “Despierta, amigo.”
Ben blinked his eyes several times and looked around. They were pulled off to the side of the freeway next to a sign reading EXIT 58, WEST POCATELLO, US 30 SOUTH. The driver was standing next to this open door, looking back at Ben.
“Vas al sur?” he asked, pointing to the exit.
Ben shook his head. “No. Al norte.” The driver smiled and shrugged, and Ben didn’t need any more explanation. Time to go. He grabbed his pack, climbed over the side of the truck, and hopped down. He nodded at the driver as the man climbed back in the cab. “Muchas gracias.”
“De nada.” The man waved his arm as he steered the pickup down the off-ramp and away to the south. Ben shouldered his pack and kept walking past the exit, staying on Interstate 86 East. Only a couple more miles, and he’d pick up I-15 North toward Idaho Falls, then West Yellowstone and Fort Yellowstone, Wyoming beyond. He wasn’t making the best time, but he was getting there.
Twenty minutes later, his luck changed when a late 60s model Volkswagen surfer van pulled up next to him. “Where ya headed, dude?” The driver was a wiry young man about Ben’s age, with a mop of dirty blonde dreadlocks sticking out from beneath a ratty wool stocking cap. The passenger looked like his twin sister. She smiled, flashing a mouth full of brown teeth.
“Yellowstone,” Ben said.
“Nice!” the driver said. “Us, too! C’mon, dude, it’s a road trip!”
“Thanks,” Ben said, climbing in through the side door. The van reeked of body odor and stale smoke, but it still beat walking. Ben was still tired and sore; the nap he had in the back of the pickup with the last group had only made him feel worse. He was stiff all over, and felt like he hadn’t slept all year.
“So, what’s your story, man?” the driver called back. “I’m Stone, this is Taya. We’re checking out all the National Parks. Gonna see all of ‘em before they sell ‘em off to build malls or something bogus like that, ya know?”
“I’m Ben. Just heading to Yellowstone for a job.”
“Whoa, you gonna be a Park Ranger or something, man?”
Ben shook his head. “Nah. I’m just gonna be an assistant to a guy that works with bears.”
“Nice!” Stone pronounced the word noyce. “Bears are awesome, dude. They’re like, nature’s tough guys, ya know?”
“I like bears,” Taya said as she stared blankly out the side window. “Bears are nice.”
“Are you gonna, like, hang out with ‘em, and stuff?” Stone asked. “‘Cuz that’d be completely sick. Maybe you could get us close enough to talk with a bear, right?”
Ben had to force himself not to laugh. “I doubt I’ll have that kind of pull on my first day.”
“Bummer, man,” Stone said. His face sagged into a near-pout. “I’ve always wanted to talk to a bear.”
“I don’t think most bears are very big on conversation,” Ben said.
“Never know ’til you try, though, am I right?”
“I did try once,” Ben said quietly. “Didn’t work out so well.”
“Maybe you weren’t connecting with him on a personal level, man. That could happen.”
“I tried to connect with a crow one time,” Taya broke in, still staring out the window. Ben and Stone looked at her and waited, but she didn’t seem interested in continuing the thought. Ben was starting to wonder if walking would have been a better choice.
Ben’s strange ride with Stone and Taya ended mercifully forty miles later, when the surfer van overheated and coughed to a stop on the shoulder. Ben thanked them for the ride and continued walking, listening to the fading sound of Stone muttering ‘bummer’ every twenty seconds or so as he stared at the smoking engine, completely baffled.
A sudden rainstorm caught Ben in the open several miles later. He looked around for anyplace to take cover, but there were no exits or buildings within a couple of miles. He was forced to take his drenching, walking along with his head ducked and water streaming off of his pack in sheets. He was miserable. Another driver stopped for him shortly after the downpour, and took him twenty miles further, then he walked another several miles before another ride came along. The pattern repeated itself until Ben lost track of how many rides he’d taken, and how many different people he’d met.
By the time he finally made it to Fort Yellowstone, his rambling thought pattern had distilled itself down to just one solid conclusion about the current state of his life.
I really need to get a car.
Headquarters - Yellowstone National Park
Fort Yellowstone, Wyoming
The Next Day
8:55 A.M.
Ben had spent the previous night in a hammock strung between two trees just out of sight of a packed campground near the fort. He’d risen before dawn, and spent the morning walking the streets of Fort Yellowstone and the adjacent town of Mammoth, Wyoming. The place had an almost alien feel to it, with steam rising from unseen geysers and hot springs all around the area. The vapor reminded Ben of the way the smoke had swirled around them in the forest fire, only here it was peaceful, rather than terrifying.
Here also, there were animals - everywhere he looked. Not just squirrels or birds either. Ben was stunned at the way entire herds of elk and buffalo roamed the streets and lounged on manicured lawns within feet of groups of chat
tering tourists, as if they owned the place. They never gave any of the tourists much attention, either. The animals were completely confident in their safety here. Ben had wondered as he drifted to sleep the night before if any bears would wander close, but the presence of the herd animals reassured him that there weren’t any apex predators lurking in the shadows.
After exploring on foot, Ben stopped at a gas station and choked down a breakfast burrito of questionable vintage, then made his way to the headquarters building. He was standing on the front step, looking at the placard showing the operating hours, when someone came up next to him.
“We don’t open for another five minutes or so, but if I can get past you, I’ll go ahead and let you in now.”
Ben turned and found a tall, lean man in his mid-forties, wearing a ranger uniform and smiling at him. “Thanks,” Ben said, backing away from the door so the man could unlock it.
“You enjoying your stay?”
“Oh, no,” Ben said. “I’m not visiting. I’m actually reporting for work, so I hope I’m in the right spot.” He dug through his pockets, finally producing the business card Cesar Gòdia had given him. “You wouldn’t know where I could find, um,” he looked at the card, “Travis Meehan, would you?” He offered the card to the ranger.
The man studied the card, looking for all the world as if he’d never heard of Travis Meehan, or even anybody named Travis, in his entire life. Then his face split into a lopsided grin, and he made a point of looking sideways at the name tag on his shirt.
It read: T. MEEHAN.
“Oh,” Ben said, realization dawning and making him feel like an idiot. “I guess I found you.”
“I guess so,” Meehan chuckled. “You must be Ben, right?”
“Yes, sir,” Ben said. “That’s me.”
“My buddy Cesar tells me good things about you. Welcome to Yellowstone.” He turned and entered the building, flipping on light switches as he beckoned Ben to follow. “Let’s get you settled in.”