Chapter 11 Thorn
Pull yourself together, man, I chide myself for the fifth time in three hours.
It’s a good thing Trey and Joshua hit it off, because I am so not in the mood for an icebreaker.
What’s the point of forcing conversation with a stranger who’s just going to leave your life as quickly as they came into it?
I don’t make a habit out of asking invasive questions even with people I do know well—same with answering them.
And Matteo knows it.
This trek has been an anomaly for me so far. I don’t know if I’m just irritable because he’s here again after being off the grid for so long, or if I feel off because I’m usually more on the same page with my coleader.
I certainly don’t usually make a habit out of flirting with the trekkers—not to mention getting caught flirting with the trekkers—but there’s just something about Sadie.
She’s so out of sorts here, and already bug-bitten to hell…
it’s kind of adorable the way she’s trying to pretend everything is fine.
I didn’t mean to be so casual with her on yesterday’s hike, or last night over s’mores—her energy is magnetic, though.
She’s easy to talk to, no icebreaker-level forcing required.
Which is why I’m secretly glad Matteo told everyone to pair off, despite the fact that I hate it on principle: it gives me a reason to keep my distance in every sense of the word. A chance to cool off, to remember that this is my job and I am a professional.
A professional who might as well have been wearing a neon sign this morning advertising that my weakness is, apparently, brunettes in silk pajamas.
Fortunately, Sadie is now fully clothed in an outfit that at least resembles hike-appropriate clothing, and she’s far ahead of me, almost everyone else in between us.
Joshua and Trey are a few steps in front of me, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. I’ve heard about the coffee bros’ matching tattoos, Joshua’s wedding plans with Zoe, and they’ve now moved on to an unexpected connection between them: diving with sharks.
“Zoe says I’m not allowed to go anymore once we have kids,” Joshua says morosely. “Which I get, in theory, but—you know how it is—it’s not like the sharks want to eat anyone. I stay out of their way, they stay out of mine.”
Trey nods along. “Totally. Doesn’t she know they hate the taste of neoprene?”
“That’s what I’m saying!”
“What’s the best place you’ve ever gone on a dive?” Trey asks.
Joshua considers it. “Gotta be between Oahu and Belize. You?”
“Galápagos, bro. Incredible.”
I tune out again because—while I do love a good extreme sport that will get your adrenaline pumping—we’ve just arrived at our rest stop.
Will Matteo remember to give everyone a break? It’s a miracle we’ve made it this far without him leading us in circles; every time I’ve caught a glimpse of him over the last three hours, he’s been talking and laughing with Brittany like he’s just one of the other trekkers and not the guy in charge.
I decide to give it a few more minutes. Stepping on his toes would only undermine his authority and piss him off—but at the same time, our pace has slowed considerably.
I’m just about to speak up when Matteo comes to an abrupt halt, looking around like he’s finally realized where we are.
“Good news, everyone!” he calls out. “Time for a break. Take thirty and make sure you rehydrate!”
Everyone splits off into their familiar groups—everyone, that is, except for Joshua and Zoe. Joshua joins Trey and the other coffee bros, while Zoe gloms on to Sadie like a barnacle.
A wave of feeling—disappointment? Jealousy?—crashes into me.
I try to resist it. I don’t need to talk to Sadie, should feel relieved that Zoe’s standing in the way of another one-on-one conversation that would only spin me further out of sorts. This is a chance to get my head on straight, talk to some of the others.
A chance to try to convince myself that Sadie’s just like the rest of them.
I head over to check in on Brittany, Emma, and Parker. They’re all bright-eyed and laughing but fall silent as soon as they notice I’ve joined them.
“Never mind, I can leave!” I playfully hold my hands up in surrender. “A guy knows when he’s interrupting!”
Emma tugs at my elbow, smiling conspiratorially as she pulls me in closer. It’s a little more familiar than I’m comfortable with, but I don’t resist.
“You can totally stay, it’s fine. We were just talking about Brittany and Matteo—”
Brittany swats Emma’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to talk about,” she says, but her eyes say otherwise. “He’s just easy to talk to, that’s all.”
“He has a girlfriend,” I say flatly, and her face falls.
It’s abrupt, and maybe a little too rain-on-her-parade. If I’d thought for just half a second before speaking, I probably wouldn’t have said it—
But Brittany seems nice, and Matteo really shouldn’t have spent the last three hours chatting her up without telling her about Blair.
“He did mention a girl,” she says, shrugging. “But maybe I misunderstood—he said she was in Peru.”
“They’re still together,” I say. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”
Who am I, defending Matteo? And defending Matteo’s loyalty to Blair?
Old habits die hard, I guess.
But if there’s one thing Matteo isn’t, it’s a cheater—he’d never purposefully lead anyone on, or do anything to compromise Blair’s trust. Then again, I also thought he’d never betray me like he did.
The rest of today’s hike is a blur.
Exhaustion sets in for most everyone around midafternoon. Matteo and I are acclimated to this level of activity, but we work in an extra break to accommodate the group. Quiet sets in, too, the icebreaker pairings reaching their conversational limits.
It’s a good thing we only have a little over a mile to go. We’ll be staying at Mackenzie Lake for two nights, where everyone can have a good, long recovery from our first few days on the trails. We’ll fish and kayak and have ample time for rest before continuing on to our next stop.
Mackenzie Lake is one of the places out here that’s burrowed its way into my soul. The bad memories are outshined by the good ones—but even those are bittersweet.
The first time I can remember coming out here with my dad, I was around six years old.
We went fly fishing and caught more rainbow trout than I’ve ever caught since; he has an uncanny talent for fishing that I didn’t inherit.
Most of the trout we released back into the wild, but we feasted on the rest: I remember watching in awe at the skill with which my dad cleaned and prepared them, his movements swift and precise.
When I told him I felt sad for the fish, what he said stuck with me: Everything has its purpose, son.
Flowers don’t live forever, and neither do fish.
Neither do we. Out here, you can see the circle of life in action—nature as it was meant to be.
At the time, I didn’t really grasp what he meant by neither do we.
Now, though, I know. The fact that he hasn’t been able to see Mackenzie Lake, or any part of the park, with his own eyes for the last few years speaks for itself.
I have these little traditions all over, things I do in his honor that only I know about—things he can no longer do for himself now that his breathing’s gone downhill.
I take note of his favorite birds in Valerie Forest.
I carve out a moment of silence at the scenic overlook of Helen Theresa and the Two Sisters.
I quietly count the steps at L’Heureux Falls.
And at Mackenzie Lake, I always look for the perfect stone—something smooth and heavy and relatively flat that fits neatly into the palm of my hand—then send it skipping out over the crystal-clear water.
There are more things along the way, little rituals that make him feel close.
I don’t get to see him often these days—he moved out to San Francisco to be closer to his lung doctor, and my work schedule means my trips to the city are few and far between.
He’s in a relationship now, at least, so I’m pretty sure I notice his absence more than he notices mine.
It got a little lonely out here, if I’m honest, when Dad and Matteo and Blair all left within months of each other. I’ve been around people, sure, my job being what it is—but lonely’s not the same as being alone.
By some miracle, we make up a little time in our last hour, even with Hunter stopping to photograph mushrooms, moss, and another bird perched up in a tree.
It’s been a long day, but I have to admit: the coffee this morning made a difference.
Even I’ve had more energy out on the trail, and I’m positive it’s helped the others push through.
It was good, too. Really good.
Another thing I’m finally—reluctantly—admitting to myself: I miss Sadie.
Joshua and Trey are nice guys, sure. But if I hear one more story about shark diving (how did they talk about it for three hours straight without repeating anything?)…I cannot be held responsible for my actions.
I miss roasting Sadie, and the way she’s not afraid to roast me right back.
I want to talk to her again. And I hate that I want that, because it’s a very bad idea: I’m on the job, I need to stay alert—trek flings are against the rules for a reason. All of these people are depending on me.
But it’s only human nature to crave connection.
Fish and flowers can’t fight the natural order of things, so what makes me think I’m any different?