Chapter Forty-Five
Forty-Five
WE GET OFF THE SURFACE STREETS AND drive long enough to hear three more songs as we make our way down some bumpy dirt road, the Jetta fighting for its life, and then Peter announces that we’re here.
Which is nowhere.
“You know,” I say, looking around the dusty patch of dirt surrounded by woods, “men can ask for directions now. There’s been a revolution.”
“We’re not lost.” Peter smiles and puts the car in park.
“Oh, okay, so we’re staying. Great. Love this for me.”
“Come on,” Peter says, unbuckling his seatbelt. “It’ll be worth it. I promise.”
I flip down the visor and slide the mirror open.
He squints at me. “What’re you doing?”
“Checking to see if I have a clock over my head. I need to know if you’re attempting to lure me to my death.”
Peter laughs and gets out of the car. “You haven’t checked my trunk, have you?”
I raise an eyebrow.
He grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “We’re just going on a hike. That’s all. We’re going to appreciate nature. Like those meditation apps are always telling us to do.”
“Fine,” I say, getting out and inhaling the scent of damp leaves and wet dirt. “I guess some earthy shit wouldn’t be the absolute worst way to spend an afternoon.” Plus, it’s better than filling our lungs with carcinogens and calling that living.
“That’s the spirit!” Peter heads toward what he claims is the beginning of a trail. “Also, if you make it to the end, there’s a surprise.”
“Is it Skittles?”
“Okay, let’s not ever discuss candy again.”
“Damn. I was really hoping you’d tell me what Red Hots are, because those guys have got to be—”
“Okay, okay.” Peter’s eyes crinkle with the threat of a smile. “You should probably text Jules. The service isn’t great—”
“—in the murdery woods? Shocker.” I slide my phone out and swipe up.
ME:Can you get a ride home from noah
JULES:Exsqueeze me
ME:I ditched with peter
JULES:AGAIN????????
JULES:I am shaken and stirred
ME:We’re about to go into some random ass woods upstate
ME:There is no service
ME:Fyi
JULES:Omg
Dots appear.
JULES:Did you know that ppl over the age of 70 bone almost exclusively outdoors
“Done,” I say, slipping my phone back into my pocket. And then I follow Peter through the creepy fucking bushes to god knows where.
“FUCK. SERIOUSLY?!” Another bush scrapes my ankle. “This hike is bullshit, Peter,” I say, narrowly avoiding being smacked in the face with a branch.
“Aw, come on,” he says, adjusting his backpack straps. “You’re a runner. This should be easy for you.”
“I don’t usually run face-first into trees.”
“Just the sidewalk.”
“Oh my god. You’re really on one today, huh?”
“Sorry.” Peter laughs. “It must be all the fresh air.”
“I liked it better when you stayed inside and read,” I say, ducking under another branch.
“We’re almost there. I promise.”
“You’ve been saying that for like an hour,” I groan. Like, I’m all for nature (sort of) but this is excessive.
Peter stops. “Listen. You hear that?”
“The sound of my growing dislike for you?” I say, picking a burr off my sock. “Loud and clear.”
“No. Listen.”
There’s this kind of roaring sound in the distance. “Is that thunder?”
Peter grins. “No. Come on.”
And then he’s pulling my hand, dragging me over half-rotting logs, brambles, and jagged rocks, the sound getting louder and louder. We push through one more dense patch of trees and then— Holy shit.
A waterfall.
There’s a clearing with enormous, jagged rocks towering over this blue-green pool of water, trees growing up around the sides and in the cracks of the rocks. It looks like some shit out of a fairy tale. “Jesus, Peter … what is this?”
“This,” he says, “is Bash Bish.”
“Sorry, do you smell toast?”
Peter laughs. “Hey, I’m not in charge of naming things.”
I look back at the waterfall. The water streams out in this heavy rush, churning into white foam in the little pool below. It’s so loud and also so quiet at the same time. It’s like we’re totally alone in this weird, secluded world. “How is no one else here?”
“That would be because it’s technically closed right now,” Peter says, brushing some dirt off his hands.
“I didn’t even know places like this existed so close to the city.”
“My parents and I used to go at least once a summer. Sometimes two or three times.” Peter sits down on one of the rocks near the base of the pond. “My mom has a thing about waterfalls. And lighthouses.”
“I don’t blame her,” I say. “This place is sort of magical?”
“Right? It makes you feel like … like maybe all the rest of the stuff is just bullshit.”
I sit down next to him on the rock, our shoulders touching. “The rest of the stuff is bullshit,” I say. “Pretty much everything is.”
Peter turns to face me. “Not everything.”
I swallow. Our faces are so close together, and his eyes are just on me. “I want to feel it.”
Peter’s eyes go wide.
“The water, I mean. The water. I want to see how cold it is. Jesus, obviously I mean the water.”
Peter laughs. “Okay.”
We peel off our socks and stick our feet in the clear water, scattering tiny fish. “I thought it’d be colder.”
“Global warming,” we say at the same time.
We sit there, next to each other, our feet in the clear water, listening to the falls and a few distant birds. And then a thought hits me, clear and strong: Caroline would like it here.
I’ve been pushing her face out of my mind, trying to forget for so long. But now it’s like … maybe I can let her in again. Maybe she doesn’t have to be all the way gone.
I can almost picture it. Her face backlit by the sun, smiling and dipping her fingers in the pond.
Hell, she’d probably be halfway in the water by now.
Charles would’ve protested but eventually given in, telling her to be careful on the slippery rocks.
He couldn’t resist the things that made her small face light up.
I wonder if he’d even be able to sit here now.
If he’d be able to find anything good in this place.
Would Mom have let Jules and me go in, if we came together? Would she have taken videos? Would there have been a holiday card of the four of us in the water, huddled close, getting sprayed by the foam? Did Mom like waterfalls or lighthouses? I don’t remember.
If Liam was here, would he be tugging Cameron in with him? Laughing and trying to touch her under the water?
Would Ms. Jegstrup be sitting awkwardly on a rock, her knee-high socks still on, grading papers? Or was she a totally different person when students weren’t around?
For a second, they’re all here with me. Even Gordon and Ronnie and the baguette woman.
“Let’s get in,” I say.
Peter’s eyebrows go up. “Like all the way into the water?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Remember your whole ‘We’re alive. Let’s act like it’ sermon?” I stand up.
Peter stands up too. And then we’re looking at each other.
Waiting. Peter takes his shirt off and I can feel my face get hot.
And then he takes his pants off and he’s standing there in his boxers.
I mean, I know guys walk around like this all the time.
But everything feels different and I have no idea where to look or what to do with my arms or even how to breathe in a normal way.
And then I guess it’s my turn. But I can’t bring myself to move. Suddenly this feels insane and my heart is racing and I feel like maybe I’ll just stand here, not moving, until the earth gets swallowed up by the sun and everything ceases to exist.
“Here.” Peter holds out his shirt to me. “I don’t think you’ll want to walk back in wet stuff. Why don’t you wear this into the water?”
I take it, an immense rush of gratitude flooding my system, because holy shit I did not actually think I had it in me to stand here in my underwear. Peter turns around and lets me change. His shirt is huge.
“Done,” I say.
He turns back around and his face goes completely still, his neck getting slightly pink. “Okay.”
“Okay.”
Peter gets in first and then holds his hand out to me. “You sure you want to come in? It’s not freezing but it’s not exactly warm either.”
I nod. I’m doing this.
Because the rest of them can’t.
The shirt fills with air and billows up around me, and I tug it down while Peter focuses really hard on a tree or something, pretending not to notice, thank god. But he doesn’t let go of my hand.
The water is cold, and Peter pulls me into him. I kind of thought we’d float around and make it awkward but he’s holding me. Pressing me against him, warming me up just by being close.
I put my arms around his neck, and we’re hugging each other, holding on with nothing but water and trees circling us.
I lean back and Peter brushes a wet strand of hair out of my face. And there’s this space between us, between our faces, but neither of us moves to close it.
“Sydney …” His voice comes out in a whisper. “Being with you … It’s …”
My heart starts to hammer in my chest and I can feel a shiver at the base of my neck. He’s going to say something. Something big. Oh god.
“The future …”
“Let’s not talk about college,” I say. “Let’s just be here.
Okay?” I don’t want plans and long distance and miles with us right now.
I don’t want to think about the purple packet on my desk at home.
I don’t want to think about phone calls and texts and leaving.
I don’t want anything but this. This exact moment.
Peter swallows. “Okay, Syd.” He reaches out and runs his thumb across my cheek. “Whatever you want.”
Whatever I want.
I hold his wrist, his hand still on my face.
And then I pull him over to the falls, the rushing water drowning out every other sound around us.
We slip behind the wall of white foam, blocking the sun, the trees, everything except each other.
It’s just the two of us in this small rocky tunnel.
It’s just the two of us in this universe.
He laughs and brushes his wet hair back and I pull him closer to me.
And then his face gets serious. He hesitates, but only for a second, and then he leans in and kisses me like there’s no tomorrow.