Chapter 5
Arax
Danny stayed with me for a few more weeks while I adjusted to life without my mom. Sometimes I wondered why I didn’t cry more… or feel more sadness like I had when my father had passed.
I didn’t want to believe that I had become numb to grief, treating it like an everyday occurrence.
Danny seemed to think it was because I still hadn’t fully processed her death, and to an extent, he was right.
My mom had also taken my father’s passing very hard.
She became quieter and, dare I say, bitter that he had left her.
My actions in the years afterward didn’t help things either.
Andy vanishing left the two of us stuck together, two angry, unhappy people whose only similarity was losing those who mattered most to them.
As I sat with Daniel in the living room going through my mom’s belongings, I realized how little I knew about her.
I didn’t even know her favorite color. How sad it must have been for her these last few years, to be forced to live with me, a person who had become more of an acquaintance than a daughter.
I’d known my mom when I was child but hadn’t had a relationship with her as an adult.
My most formative years were spent with the two of us orbiting one another, never finding a place where we could connect.
Then as I got older, the distance between us grew wider, reaching a point of no return.
That was, until recently, when she’d given me a glimpse of what could have been.
“Rox?” Daniel asked quietly. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” I replied as casually as possible, not wanting to reveal my troubles to him.
“You’re crying,” he said gently.
I hadn’t noticed. I had become so detached, even from myself.
I sighed and looked into his eyes.
“I think I need a change of scenery,” I said. “I’m glad my vacation isn’t too far away.”
“Are you positive that’s what you want to be doing right now?” Daniel asked, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Camping in the mountains by yourself, while you’re still in mourning?”
He had a right to be worried. These mountains held some bittersweet memories for me, but every year, I took three weeks off at the beginning of spring and went out there.
It was the only time I felt liberated. At peace.
I loved nature, and I could lose myself completely in the melting snow, breathing in the fresh mountain air.
I loved getting away. Sometimes I got dropped off with a group, but sometimes I went by myself.
Given what had happened, this year it would probably be the latter.
“I think this year of all years, I need to go more than ever. Don’t worry about me, Danny.” I gave him a pat on the arm. “I know how to handle myself up there.”
“Yeah, yeah. I know. I just hope you don’t get eaten by a bear one of these times,” he said, poking my shoulder.
I laughed. “They’re more scared of us than we are of them.”
By the time a few months had passed after my mom’s death, I had been having the dreams so frequently that I had to make Danny move back to his own apartment.
What started as what he described as gentle whimpers while I slept turned into full-on screaming, until he could get me to wake up.
It was always the same dream, and I would awaken from the smell of smoke and rot, a bonfire of bodies, as if the scene had taken place in my apartment.
My sleep, and Danny’s, became broken, and I begged him to go, for his own well-being.
I loved having him with me, but even on a good day, I hadn’t been the most lively of roommates.
It wasn’t fair to him, and with my mind still a jumbled mess, I had retreated into my own little world.
I gave away most of my mom’s things, like her clothes and shoes.
I held on to some stuff that I knew were irreplaceable: rugs and decorative items that had been passed down through the generations, and whatever jewelry she had.
My mom was big on keeping things with sentimental value.
It was one of the few traits we had in common.
I packed them away for now, not wanting a daily reminder of how much I missed her—how much I missed all three of them.
The day arrived when I was ready to leave.
I packed a small backpack and dragged my camping equipment into the driveway of my apartment complex, waiting for my rideshare.
From there I’d take the shuttle into the park itself.
Once I got to the campground, I’d usually set up my space and go exploring.
I knew the terrain well enough, and because it was still the cold season and the grounds were relatively empty, my equipment was typically safe.
The backpack was where I kept my essentials, in addition to my camera and binoculars.
Unlike my brother, who had been an amazing athlete, I didn’t plan to do anything too dangerous during my stay.
He’d been the crazy one, doing all kinds of death-defying sports and activities.
Me? I hiked the paths I knew, taking pictures of wildlife while enjoying my time away from civilization.
I always came back refreshed and rejuvenated, wishing the feeling would last longer.
Danny came to see me off, asking me once again if I was sure about going. He threw a fit about not being able to stay in contact for three weeks, since phone reception in the mountains was next to none. He’d never had a problem with it in other years.
“I’m not going to throw myself off of the first cliff I see, Danny,” I said, addressing what I assumed was his fear.
His sudden coughing fit told me I had been correct.
“I just worry about you, Rox. You’ve had a lot on your plate,” he said when he could speak again.
“Believe it or not, these trips keep me sane. I appreciate how much you worry about me, Danny Boy, though I wish you didn’t have to.” I sighed and gave him a long hug.
He peered into my eyes, looking for a sign that I might be lying. When he was finally convinced I wasn’t, he returned the hug. “Love you, Rox. Have fun camping, and try not to become bear food.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” I replied, and when he shook his head at my dorkiness, I gave him a half smile. “Love you too, Estrada.”
Sitting in the back seat of the car, I loosened up for the first time since I’d lost my mother.
I wasn’t lying to Danny when I said these yearly trips kept my mind level, though maybe I was lying a little through omission.
He thought I went off by myself to clear my head, which was partly true, but the main reason was more complicated.
I had this habit of keeping my feelings to myself.
It wasn’t because of my pride. I internalized things, then shoved it all away because it was easier.
I had felt everything after my dad was gone, felt it to the point that I couldn’t hear myself think any more.
The sorrow, the anger… They had almost eaten me alive.
My brother’s disappearance had shaped my reality in a different way.
I mourned him as well and let the loneliness from his absence creep into my heart over the years.
Having done it twice already, I came to the sad realization that I couldn’t do it for a third time.
It was too taxing. I had unconsciously kept myself busy, throwing myself into my work over the past few months.
The more occupied I’d been with tasks that required my concentration, the less time I had had to think about my mom’s passing.
It was in those rare moments I had allowed myself to be still when my feelings would surface, and I’d hated it.
In the mountains, however, a place so significant and meaningful to me, I could let go and permit my emotions to run free.
Once I arrived, I found a spot and set up my gear, leaving behind what I wouldn’t need on my hike.
The campground was nearly empty, but I did meet a nice family who graciously offered to keep an eye on my things while I was gone.
This was my favorite time of year because I never knew what the weather would bring.
It was always a surprise. Some years it’d still be snowing, and other times I’d get lucky and catch the early blooms of spring.
Walking along the trails I knew and loved, tiny buds of pink and red, along with the first signs of green, peeked out shyly at me from underneath the sleepy earth, spring’s way of telling me she was already on her way.