Chapter 12
“What did you have in mind? As long as we’re back in time for the concert tonight.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been.” I try to recall if I’ve ever gone to Maine’s iconic park. It’s practically a rite of passage if you grow up here, but I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever been. I was not outdoorsy to say the least. “Have you?”
“My father grew up in Bar Harbor, near the park entrance. We would visit my grandfather during summer break, and he’d bring us to the park.
You know, fishing and hiking and all that.
They’d drag me along while I sat and read a book.
Have you ever gone hiking or anything?” I imagine young Dean with his nose buried in a book while on a fishing boat or climbing up a mountain.
Something about it is reminiscent of my own childhood.
“My parents are dentists. They were never really into that kind of stuff,” I say.
“Me either.” Dean laughs. “But still, I’ve gone hiking at least. I think there’s a place you’d like to see.”
“If it’s a long hike, you might have to carry me.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Dean chuckles. “I think we can drive right up to it, anyhow. No hiking involved.”
“Are you going to tell me about this place you want to take me to?” I ask.
“You’ll see when we get there.”
“You’re not going to abandon me in the park, are you? Or push me off a cliff?”
“Have a little faith in me, McKinney. I wouldn’t abandon you on federal property.”
“But state property is okay?” I laugh facetiously.
“Absolutely not,” Dean’s eyes crinkle as he squints at the road. “Okay, navigator, let’s go.”
We’re lucky that the main park road is cleared of snow from the most recent storm—there’s a single lane that cars can drive through and snow on either side of the roads. I pray to whoever is up there that our minivan doesn’t get stuck or slide on some ice, otherwise we’d really be fucked.
Dean takes it slow on the road, there’s some skiers and snowmobilers that pass us.
The trees are magnificently tall, a triumph of nature, even when they’re bare because of the bitter cold and wind.
There are a few evergreen trees that stick out like jewels of color among the rest of the colorless landscape.
I watch them slowly pass by as Dean carefully guides the van down loops and curves.
Icicles hang from roadside rock formations, and they look so sharp and heavy, if one fell, it’d surely be the end of your story.
They’re so thick and long, they look like frozen waterfalls.
Some are crystal clear or blue, but some are vibrant shades of yellow and green.
Like a kid, I want to reach out and yank one off the rocks, but they’re taller than I am.
The sky is a clear, sparkling shade of blue.
The sun is out, shining just for us, and I feel its warmth on the bridge of my nose, though it’s absolutely frigid and not a thing melts.
The light bounces across the windshield in a round, circular pattern as Dean pulls into a small lot along the side of the road.
I step out of the van, ice and snow crunching underneath my feet.
Dean grabs my hand as he leads me through the lot to a frozen staircase embedded in the cliffside.
It juts right up to the ocean, making me crane my neck to get a better look.
There are a few others milling about, but no one ventures quite as far down as we do.
The ocean crashes relentlessly on the frozen landscape—the waves are magnificently vicious.
They wouldn’t hesitate to swallow you all and freeze you to death.
I’m hesitant to approach any further as the walkway is awfully icy—in fact, it’s entirely iced over— but Dean guides me down the steps to a landing in the staircase.
His grip on me is iron-clad and keeps me from slipping, but if I managed to fall, he’d go with me.
“It’s almost high tide,” Dean tells me, almost yelling in my ear. “This is the best time.”
“The best time for wh—” I’m doused with bitter, ice-cold sea spray. I’m stunned, but the grin on Dean’s face says it all.
“Are you awake yet?” He laughs, although I can barely hear him now over the roar of the waves.
“Holy shit,” I grumble, ice likely forming on my eyelashes. I thank every higher power that only my face is visible.
“Listen.” He pulls me into his arms, our coats swishing against each other.
It’s a thunderous, roaring sound. It’s deafening, and it’s coming from the sea crashing against the cliffs.
I think he’s laughing, from the way his chest is bouncing against mine, and the upturned curve of his lips.
Another blast of sea spray hits our faces, and I can’t help but laugh back.
“Okay, let’s get out of here. It’s fucking cold,” He says and pulls me towards the railing again. We climb to the very top of the steps, overlooking the cliffs and water, far from the freezing sea water.
“What is this place?”
“Thunder hole,” Dean explains. “Where the waves are so loud, they sound like thunder.” His gloved hand squeezes mine.
“It’s a beautiful view.” I scan the scenery. It’s something out of an art gallery photograph. The ocean is bluer than I ever thought it could be on this side of the continent…it’s hard to tell where water meets sky.
Dean gazes out to sea as well. “It’s nicer in the summer. But it's still cool, even now.”
“It’s absolutely terrifying,” I remark, shivering, even though my body is appropriately warm. “The ice. The slippery rocks. The water blasting in your face. The whole thing is nightmare inducing.”
“I thought you’d like it,” Dean laughs.
“It’s refreshing to be afraid of something new,” I admit. “But I think you have a death wish.”
“This is one of the only places I really liked as a kid. I guess I was always kind of looking for a thrill, like in my adventure novels. I couldn’t jump off a building, or fly a spaceship or fight with a sword, so this is as close as I could get to it.
” Dean thinks. “But it’s not for everyone.
It’s natural to be afraid of things that are unfamiliar or unknown. ”
“I rode my bicycle without holding onto the handlebars once,” I offer.
Dean laughs. “I think that’s worse than this.”
“Water is fucking scary,” I say, looking out at the vastness in front of me. “One misplaced wave, and you’re swept away for good.”
“I think you could say the same about a bicycle. One swipe of a car door, and you’re out,” Dean counters. “I think you’re more likely to die in a bicycle accident than getting eaten by a wave.”
“Which way would you rather go?” I ask.
“The water.”
“Agreed.”
We stare at the sea in silence for a moment.
My nose is burning from the cold, but it’s peaceful to listen to the water and have my hand squeezed by the friendly giant standing next to me.
Bicycle accidents, wave calamities, car crashes, freak illnesses…
Did it ever matter which one causes your death?
I turn to look at Dean, who is already looking at me. His eyes, encrusted with ice too, beam at me. I’m tempted to ask him a ridiculous question.
“If I jumped in the water, right now, what would you do?” I imagine myself bolting down the stairs, climbing over the railing and falling face first into the icy water.
He pulls me into a fierce hug, and in his embrace, I know he’d let his shoes fill up with water, soak his pants and coat, drench and freeze his body in order to pull me out of the water and return me to solid land.
“I’d jump in after you.” He confirms my suspicions.
“That’s a suicide mission. I don’t want you coming after me.”
“Then I’d call the Coast Guard. And cry bloody murder from above.”
“You know, I won’t actually do it.” I remind him— I’m finally comfortable on land.
“I know.” He looks at me sincerely.
“Do you?” I ask.
“I know, I swear.” Dean laughs. “You’ve never really been to this park before?”
“I haven’t. But you used to come here all the time as a kid, right?” I recall from earlier.
“Yeah. With my grandfather.”
“What about your father?” I ask. “Where’s he these days?”
“My father died in a boating accident when I was 13.” Dean confesses, staring out at the water. “Just after Sierra was born.”
I never really know what to say when it comes to other people’s losses after experiencing Andy dying. There’s just never anything good to say— “I’m sorry for your loss” often doesn’t even begin to cover it or cut it, and “Fuck, that’s so sad” is impersonal as hell and never feels genuine enough.
“Do you miss him?” I ask.
“Only all the time,” Dean replies.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“He was the one who encouraged me to go to the library and get all those books. The library kind of stopped after he died. A lot of things stopped after he died. It was really hard on my mom, taking care of a new baby and me, and trying to work at the same time.”
“I can’t imagine the stress she was under.”
“I was a difficult kid. I was always acting out in school, causing trouble. Shoplifting, even. In high school, I felt like I had to own up to some of it. Now, I just want Sierra to have the opportunities I didn’t.
She wants to go to Yale, but I’d be happy if she went to even just community college.
I don’t want her to have the mountain of student debt that I have. ”
“Your Mom must be proud of you now.”
“I think she’s just glad I didn’t end up in juvenile detention and have a job,” he sighs. “She didn’t want me to leave Allagash. She thinks Sierra needs another authoritative figure in her life.”
“I’m sure Sierra will be okay with just your mom.”
“That’s what I said. But I guess they’re having problems…with Sierra drinking and going out.”
“That’s not your fault though. She could have done that with you there anyway.”
“Still, it’s hard not to accept responsibility for it. I can’t help but feel like if I had stayed, she’d be better off.”
“But you like York Falls, right?” I ask.
“I do. I love York Falls. It’s closer to the city, more things to do.”