Twelve #2
“A cave sounds cool,” I hear myself saying. As in, bone-chilling. But either way, I’m signing up to be trapped. Does the theme
really matter? I grit my teeth through signing a waiver, being briefed on how to use the walkie-talkies, and getting strapped
into climbing gear.
“For authenticity’s sake,” says another escape room employee who introduced himself as the game manager.
Inauthentic would suit me just fine, but I remind myself that no matter how real it feels, we’ll just be wandering around
what used to be a Sears department store.
“Don’t turn on the lights on your helmets until the countdown ends,” the game manager says, looking comfortingly ordinary in a polo and khakis.
“Let me guess, authenticity?” I try and fail to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
He shakes his head. “In this case, it’s to make it harder for you to find the first clue.” He asks us to test our headlamps
and we obediently flick the switch on and off twice. “Great, you’re good to go.”
The door marked CAVE ENTRANCE SHAFT opens to reveal a path sloping into darkness. Reminding myself this is just a mall, I
picture wide aisles between rows of appliances and TVs. He tells us to stand against the wall, which is textured like rock.
“See you on the other side.” Shutting the door, he says, “Or not,” with a laugh that’s probably part of the gig but feels
way too genuine.
We’re plunged into darkness, and I can see now why he told us to stand with our backs to the wall. Or rather, can’t see. It’s
pitch black and without the wall behind me, I’d feel totally disoriented. “Remember what I said about horror movies?”
Next to me, Mia’s fumbling. “Just turn on your headlamp.”
“Trying.” My fingers are shaking, and I’m not sure I really want light, after all. She might notice how embarrassingly freaked-out
I am.
Her headlamp clicks on, illuminating the clammy gray-brown passageway. The light emphasizes how dark the rest of the space
is, and I realize I forgot to ask the dimensions of this escape room. Before I can spiral about the lack of space, Mia steps
in front of me and rises on her tiptoes, hand on my shoulder for balance.
Is she about to kiss me? On instinct, I bend my head and... she reaches up to click my headlamp on. Embarrassed, I’m glad
she turns away quickly so she won’t catch sight of my blush.
She stays close, searching the area near us.
Logically, I know we’re in a man-made room, but with the low ceiling and small passageway, my brain is warning me that crushing tons of earth are above us.
Propelled by the urge to get out of here as fast as possible without making a fool of myself, I head down the path, which angles sharply, hiding the rest of the room from view.
“I’ve never been in a real cave,” Mia says, right on my heels. “We should stop by the one on the way to your dad’s house sometime.”
“I went once, as a kid.”
“And?”
“I didn’t like it.” An understatement. “My dad ended up asking the tour guide to take me out early. They had to radio up to
someone at the entrance to come get us while Mom finished the tour with Scott.”
“That happened when Kim took me to see my first horror movie in theaters,” Mia says, no trace of judgment. “Except she had
to leave with me and didn’t let me live it down.” Her voice reaches me, warm. “We didn’t have to do the cave challenge.”
“This isn’t real,” I say as much to myself as her. Besides, any enclosed space sucks. I’m not used to holding back with her,
but this particular fear has always seemed juvenile. I don’t have an explanation for it, and I thought I’d grow out of it.
“Okay, then let’s start cracking codes.”
“I don’t see any.” The passageway has opened up into a room and stalactites—or maybe stalagmites—jut up from the floor and
drip from the ceiling.
Mia bends and crawls underneath an overhang. “There’s something in here.”
I squat down to see and she pushes a battered container out of the spot.
“Are we supposed to be moving stuff around?”
“How else will we open it?” She’s already flipping it over, looking for clues. “Can you check the other side of the room to
see if there’s anything else we can use?”
“Like an emergency exit?” I aim for a jokey tone but it comes out tense.
Hand on the case, she scowls up at me. “We’re supposed to be working together to solve this.”
“Sorry, I did want to do this with you.” I can either keep my pride or tell her the truth so she doesn’t think I’m a total
jerk. “Being trapped in here is just stressing me the hell out.”
“Seriously?”
I kneel down on the uneven floor. “I’m pretty claustrophobic.”
“Since when?”
“Since always, I guess. But that visit to the cave was the first time I remember the fear pressing in. I knew we were fine,
but my brain wouldn’t accept it.” Even now, I’m fighting off the choked sensation of not having enough air. “That’s why I
avoid elevators whenever I can.”
“I always thought you were showing off your fitness.”
I manage a laugh. “I don’t even go to the gym.”
“Yeah, but you’re always hauling around those big bags of dirt and stuff. You’ve got the muscles to show for it.” She frowns.
“That’s a bad thing?”
“Inconvenient.” Her voice is low, hoarse. Like she’s thirsty all of a sudden. “Don’t act like you don’t realize the impression
you have on women.”
Women? Yes. Mia in particular? No. But maybe it hasn’t been as easy for her to keep her distance as I thought. I’ve caught
her looking sometimes. A quick dart of her eyes from under lowered lashes when we’re at the lake. Things like that. But just
now the sweep of her eyes didn’t feel like an objective observer.
Before I can process what that might mean, she says, “I wish you would’ve told me.” For a numb second, I assume she’s talking
about my feelings for her.
“What would you have said?” I wait, breathless.
“I already felt bad about roping you into these trope tests, and here you are, stuck in here for my sake.”
Reality sends me back to my senses. She’s talking about my fear, not my clueless heart. “I didn’t tell you because it’s not the biggest deal. Not like I have some childhood wound to blame it on. I just don’t like small spaces.”
She squeezes my shoulder. “Your fears don’t need a deep-rooted issue to be valid.” That’s the thing about Mia. She knows me
and accepts me without making me feel the need to justify things. When I talk to my dad or Scott, I feel like I need to prepare
a case beforehand. “You can tell me anything,” she says.
That reminds me there is something I haven’t brought up, and telling her will be better than blurting out how much I want
to be with her. “My dad’s retiring.” Her fingers go still on the padlock. “Following Scott and Amber to Colorado.”
Her head whips around. “When did he tell you?”
Shielding my face from the light, I say, “He didn’t. Scott did.”
She clicks off her headlamp, face slipping into shadow. “Did you call him?”
I shake my head, the helmet rattling, and I unsnap the chin strap, setting it by my knee where it casts a glow on the stalagmites.
“Not yet.” Part of me is upset he didn’t tell me himself, but I think it’s his way of not pressuring me. “Scott thinks I should
take over for him.”
Mia doesn’t say anything for a moment, which isn’t typical for her.
“What do you think?” I’m desperate to know how she’d feel if I left.
“It’s not for me to say.” Her tone is cautious, and I turn to face her.
“Since when do you not have an opinion?”
“This is big, Gavin. I don’t want to influence you either way.”
“What else are friends for?”
“Listening,” she says. “Giving you a nudge if you’re on the wrong path.”
“Or telling me which is the right one.” I need her to say she wants me here.
She sighs and tugs her knees to her chest. “That I can’t do. It would be a big change, but who’s to say it’s not a good one?”
Who’s to say? I’d give anything to hear her say I shouldn’t go. “You wouldn’t mind me moving to Wisconsin?”
“It’s not the other side of the world,” she says. “We visit often in the summer anyway.”
“It’s not the same.”
“For you and me, no.” She sounds matter-of-fact, like the distance wouldn’t bother her at all, and it’s a kick in the gut.
“Why haven’t you spoken to your dad about it?”
“Because I don’t have an answer.”
“He’s not the one asking you to take over, though.”
“That’s the other thing. It bothers me he didn’t tell me himself.” I shift, trying to get comfortable on the weirdly rubbery
floor, and settle for resting my back against the wall. Mia follows suit, our legs stretched out in front of us, side by side.
It’s nice to sit with her like this. No pretense. Just us.
Even though everything might be changing, I’m grateful for this moment. “He must’ve been considering it for months, if not
years, but he never said a thing. I thought he’d work until he couldn’t. At least another decade.”
She nudges my shin with her foot. “You should ask him why.”
“Back to giving out advice?”
She grins, and my heart catches in my throat. I love that smile. “When the right choice is obvious, yeah.” Her expression
shifts from teasing to solemn. “I know he relied on you too much in the past. Maybe he’s realized it, and that’s why he’s
been more distant.”
“Or he’s decided to depend on Scott instead.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“No, but it doesn’t feel great to be left out. I want him to open up to Scott. It’s good his circle is expanding. But I still want to be in it.”
“Easy choice, then.” She crosses her legs, and I do my best not to notice how we’re connected now, her bare knee resting against
my thigh. “Call him. You don’t need to decide now.”
She’s given no clue on how she feels about the situation, and I know it’s on purpose. She doesn’t want to sway me. Maybe it’s
asking too much to expect her to weigh in on something this life-changing. But I can’t help but remember when I showed her
the listing for my house. How excited she’d been I was settling down close to Chicago. How she’d fallen in love with this