Chapter 32
This morning I had a therapy session. I made Reid go for a hike while I called Sharon from the van. We talked a lot about trusting myself and recognizing it’s okay to want Reid there. She kept telling me, ‘It’s not any more impressive if you do it all alone.’
I keep trying to imagine how I would treat my theoretical daughter if she told me she was scared and wanted her friend there.
What would I say to that little girl who wanted my autograph?
I’m trying to talk to myself like that more.
It physically pains me, but I’m pretty sure that’s a sign I need to do it.
Reid came back all sweaty, smelling of pine and peace and telling me all about the weird bird he saw up at the peak.
We head into the park together after we pack up and get breakfast with Riley in Yosemite Village.
She spends half of breakfast lecturing Reid and making him feel guilty for leaving me. I almost tell her about him being on his knees on my porch last night, but I hold back—that moment feels like it was just for us.
Riley hugs me so tightly I feel like I might disappear. “Addie, I am so proud of you. They need me here so I can’t come, but I’ll be right here with you.” She points to my heart, and my tears well up involuntarily.
“I’ll miss you, Ri.”
“I’ll miss you more.” She pulls me in for a tight hug.
“Maybe I’ll come back and visit this spring, yeah?”
She smiles as she cries and nods her head yes. I really would like to come back and visit this spring. Something about the air here feels right.
Reid tries to hug her, but she flips her middle finger at him instead. Riley’s gonna be pissed at him for a long time over this. I don’t blame her, I’d feel the same way if a guy she liked made her cry. He holds up his hands in defeat and squeezes himself into the driver’s seat of his tiny ass car.
Driving through Yosemite in the morning is a spiritual experience.
The sunlight is bouncing off of the hard granite face of Half Dome, and it almost looks as if El Capitan is glowing. I get one last look at the ethereal valley, as if the park is waving goodbye. I’ll have to find a new structure to steady me.
This moment feels like a turning point. If this were a movie, a slow-building track would fade in, picking up to the chorus as I drive away and prepare to conquer my two biggest fears.
I’m not sure what my plan is when it comes to Reid—suck it up and kiss him I guess?
Who knows. I’m going to focus on the riding first—at least that’s more straightforward.
The rest of the drive is windy, and it’s making me feel sick. We have to make it to Fresno before we can return Reid’s miniature vehicle. Then we’ll be side by side, listening to all of the same music, trapped together for hours. My heart rate kicks up at the thought.
Reid takes over driving, and I immediately feel like a crushing weight has been lifted.
I was meant to be a passenger—truly I was—sipping on my coffee and taking in the views.
Every few minutes Reid asks me to change the music to fit the moment perfectly.
“Okay, now we need something a little more airy.”
I’m not sure what he means by airy, but I do my best. We’re laughing together like we did when we were kids, and it feels good. Every so often our hands graze, and I don’t pull away.
We pass by Sequoia National Park and Reid insists we stop. “No Reid, we’re going to miss one of the trail build days if we keep fucking around.”
I want to stop too—I never want this road trip to end.
Suddenly I think I like living in a van, with him here, everything feels dreamlike.
The scenery shifts slowly, like watching a roll of film being developed.
The California trees transition into vast desert skies as we approach Las Vegas. The horizon goes on forever out here.
Every time we find a gas station, Reid insists we stop—even if we have a practically full tank. “You never know when the next station will appear out here,” he keeps saying.
We pull into yet another, this one bigger and cleaner-looking than any we’ve seen since Fresno. My legs have gone fuzzy, so I climb out to walk in small circles in the measly green space by the edge of the building.
Reid walks out holding a massive slushee, half coke and half cherry, like we would always get as kids. He doesn’t walk towards me though, instead setting it down on a picnic table.
“Shouldn’t we get back on the road?”
He tugs me down to sit next to him and shoves the icy beverage into my hands. “We need a break. Plus…” With a thud, a bright yellow journal hits the table. “We need to practice your autograph.”
This is ridiculous. “I don’t need an autograph.” I’m sure that last time was a fluke.
He shoves the pen into my hand and holds it with his own, guiding us across the paper in a sloppy fashion. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. The sugary slushee is doing nothing to settle me either.
“People are going to ask for your autograph, Addie. This is fucking rampage.”
I’m not even trying to be humble, I simply cannot picture someone asking for my signature again. I humor him anyways, letting him debate over curly or sloppy, if only so our hands can touch for a while longer while we have the excuse.
The sun is strong here, unfiltered. It’s so hot my slushee is melted in mere minutes, and the metal table is starting to burn. I want to keep touching him, but I want AC more. “Let’s go. We can work on my autograph once we see if I even survive trail building.”
He rolls his eyes but helps me up from the steaming bench. “I’ll do all the heavy lifting. Put me to work, Blondie.”
Cold air streaming at my face pulls my focus, and the tension is briefly diffused between us.
Once we’re cruising down the Nevada highway and my skin has chilled, the overthinking returns.
A few lingering touches at a gas station table and I’ve forgotten how to talk to one of my oldest friends.
Jittery from all of the sugar, my knees keep bobbing up and down.
It’s annoying him, I can tell. I settle down some as we drive through Vegas.
There’s finally something for me to look at.
I only have to pretend I don’t want to look at Reid every few minutes instead of every few seconds. It’s a welcome but short period of relief.
Suddenly, out of nothing, a city pops up. There’s practically nothing surrounding the gambling hub. It starts and stops with no real suburbs, no fade into normal society, just strip clubs and then bam, desert.
We pass through Arizona briefly, and decide we might as well drive straight through and camp at Zion tonight. That way, we’ll have a day to enjoy the park before we have to start deciding what jumps we’re going to build.
I have a few ideas of how to best showcase my skill, but I won’t truly know until I see the cliff in front of me.
The red sandstone starts to come into view, and my stomach drops. We’re actually here…I’m riding Rampage.