that in future—that feeling stupid and losing aren’t as bad as this.
So you say, Cece’s voice laughed. But this is who you are, Dare. You won’t refuse a bet, and you’ll do anything to make sure you’re not embarrassed.
“Shut up,” Darrell muttered.
“What?” Jon said from the other sleeping bag.
“Nothing. Talking to myself,” Darrell said. He got into his
sleeping bag and rolled over, trying to ignore the blush that crept up his face.
Jon lay awake listening to Darrell’s slow breathing. He’d put his spare camera batteries into the sleeping bag where they wouldn’t get drained by the cold, and he’d taken off his boots, but he couldn’t sleep. He was too revved up from the first-day experience.
This is tougher than I thought it would be, Ed. I’ve been everywhere. I’ve done everything. But I couldn’t have done this with you. I’d been to so many places, and with you, I wanted to rest, and I let you down, didn’t I? Now the only way you’re going to be here are your ashes.
Stop thinking like that, Jon. He’d lived with Ed so long that he already knew what he’d say. He didn’t pretend it was actually Ed talking to him, but it was comforting, hearing Ed’s voice in his head.
I know, but...we could have been doing this together. We could have been lying beside each other, encouraging each other along this trail. Instead, I suggested Barcelona.
Well, by the time I got Machu Picchu into my head, I was already too old, you know. That was only eight years ago. They would have carded me and said no.
Jon smiled a little at that.
Jon, I’m here with you. I will always be with you. Don’t beat yourself up like this.
From the other sleeping bag, a loud, wood-sawing snore arose.
At least you didn’t snore or complain about everything. I guess I was your Darrell, Jon thought, a wry smile on his lips.
Edwin’s voice didn’t answer.
Later that night, Darrell had to get up for the bathroom. Miche had shown them the picture on her phone after she’d visited it—it was nothing more than a squatting hole cut into the rock. But it was use it or explode, so Darrell had to go. He flipped on his headlamp and headed out of the tent.
Jon woke when Darrell got up, and lay in the tent waiting for him to return. He pulled the intricate wood box with Edwin’s ashes in it out of his pack and held it for a while, then wrapped it back up in the green-and-black plaid shirt and tucked it back in where it wouldn’t open up and spill. “I wish we could have done this together. You would have loved the way the fog rolled in over the mountains and the sun peeking through the trees. I won’t forget that you’re with me, though. I won’t forget again.”
Darrell slipped back into the tent. “Who were you talking to?”
“Edwin. I still do that sometimes. Don’t you still talk to Cece every now and then?”
Darrell closed the tent and sat down heavily. “Yeah. A lot, just lately. All the way up the trail, and even tonight before I went to sleep.” He got into his sleeping bag again. “Hell, for a week I was furious with her for dying, because if she was still around, I wouldn’t be taking this merry trip up the Inca Trail with you right now, would I?”
“I’ll bet she had something to say about that,” Jon said. “At least, if I remember Cece.”
“Oh, yeah. She pointed out that this was all my fault, for taking your bet,” Darrell said as he settled back down.
Jon snorted laughter. “Well, it is, you know.”
“Oh, shut up,” Darrell said. “What, are you going to rub it in?”
“No, of course not,” Jon said. “But we still haven’t even agreed what ‘more fit’ means, you know. How do we know who’s won the bet?”
Darrell considered as the cold air nipped at his nose. “First one to get to the Sun Gate wins?”
“I’m good with that,” Jon said. He was beginning to drift again.
“And the prize?” Darrell said.
“Knowing that you won, and that I won’t argue with you about it,” Jon said. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Darrell said after a moment. “Yeah. Deal.” ***
The next day was harder than the first. Everyone at breakfast groaned about their aching legs and sore feet as they wolfed down the food the porters provided. On the trail, people began to spread apart, not walking together as they had the day before. Will and Laurie formed a two-person vanguard just behind the guide, and once again Charles fell far behind. Rain fell softly for an hour or so, and the trail became more slippery and treacherous as a result. Ella went down hard on one knee once, but shrugged it off with some choice language in the New Zealand dialect that nobody but Miche could understand.
Jon and Darrell, however, found themselves walking together more often than not, and after they exhausted the topics of landscape and weather, found themselves moving towards the harder topics that they’d managed to avoid even as they trained for this massive endurance fest.
“If Edwin hadn’t wanted you to do this, would you have wanted to?” Darrell asked as they sat on the damp ground and passed a canteen back and forth.
“I don’t know, honestly,” Jon said. “He started harping on it eight or nine years ago, but I’d been all over South America on photography trips, so I wasn’t really interested. Of course, I promised him I would go the last time he and I got to talk before he died, so there’s that.”
“Deathbed promise, huh?” Darrell asked.
“Well...yes and no. I don’t think either of us really realized it’d be the last time we’d get to talk. He had...had rallied, you know? I guess part of me hoped that it meant he was going to get better after all.” Jon tried to smile, but the smile didn’t work very well.
“That didn’t happen with Cece,” Darrell said. “She went into a coma just a few days before she died, and then she was gone, but she hadn’t made a lot of sense for a couple weeks before that. She just kept saying ‘oh no’ over and over again for a day or two. They said it was normal for what was happening to her. But she never really came back from that.” “I’m sorry, Darrell. I wish I had been there for you when it happened.”
* * *
“Eh,” Darrell said. “I didn’t let anyone know until it was almost too late anyway. Not your fault. They had a sort of support group at the hospital, but it felt too much like a guilt trip. I didn’t go very often.”
They sat listening to the rain patter on the jungle around them for a few minutes.
“I’m glad you came with me,” Jon said abruptly. “And I’m glad Edwin didn’t. He wouldn’t have made it to the first campsite.”
Darrell nodded, then looked at him directly. “Thanks for bugging me to come with you. I really was in bad shape over Cece, and you know me. I wouldn’t have left my house without you pulling me out of it. Remember that time in college when I failed that trig final?”
Jon remembered. It had been a bad two weeks getting Darrell to even get out of bed and eat, let alone take care of himself. And now that he thought about it, what had cured Darrell of his malaise was going out and getting plastered enough to talk about how much it had hurt.
And of course we didn’t bring any beer with us on this hike. Dammit.
“I needed someone too,” Jon said after a minute. “I was pretending I was okay, but Edwin’s stuff...well, you know. He collected everything, and what he collected seemed to collect stuff too. I’m still dreading emptying out all of his things and organizing that place when we get back later this week.”
“I can help you,” Darrell offered. “And if it gets too much, you can come back up and visit the hot tub for a while.”
“What about Cece’s things?” Jon said as they got to their feet and began to follow the long string of people up the trail. “Don’t you need help sorting through those?”
“Yeah, eventually, I suppose. But she and I kept our stuff pretty compartmentalized anyway. I was thinking about having a service come in and take most of her stuff away. I
mean, when would I ever wear her clothes, you know?”
They both chuckled a little at that.
“I’ve got some ideas for the book,” Darrell said as they ducked under a low-hanging plant on the pathway.
“Yeah?”
“The original book was just going to be about us hiking Machu Picchu, and maybe why. But wouldn’t it be more interesting if we got the stories of the other people on the way with us? They’ve all got stories to tell. I can feel it. Maybe it’s just the nature of this kind of thing, but I want to know more about them.”
“That sounds great, if you can get them to agree.”
Darrell’s grin flashed out suddenly. “You’re talking to a man who convinced senior editors to run risky stories,” he said. “They won’t know what hit them.”
A little later, they arrived at a set of steep steps, and the walking sticks came out again. “So you’re using them?” Jon asked.
“I have been since the middle of our training in June,” Darrell retorted, and then realized Jon was teasing. “And hey, thanks for getting them. I don’t think I could have done this without them.”
“That’s what I figured,” Jon said, and looked down to focus on his feet again. “Don’t trip—there’s a loose stone in that one.”
Darrell stepped over the stone that threatened to trip him, and watched as Jon pulled a little ahead as the steps narrowed. Then he looked down at his own feet and focused on the climb, which was making his muscles sing and protest.
When they finally reached the end of the long staircase, both of them were puffing and sweating. They stripped off sweatshirts and rolled them back into their packs, relishing the cooling breeze. Darrell looked at Jon and then looked away. He’d never want that again. That was years—decades ago! And now is not the time. We’re both sweaty and we’re in the middle of a damn hike up the middle of nowhere.
“What is it?” Jon asked.
“What?” Darrell responded, pulling his pack back on.
“I don’t know. You looked like you wanted to say
something.”
“Ah, no. Just thinking.”
“A penny for your thoughts,” Jon said. Then he grinned.
“A quarter to act them out.”
Darrell blinked, and then grinned, a beat late. If only you knew.
“Hey, Darrell. Want to know a secret?” Jon said in a stage whisper.
Darrell looked around and saw that they were mostly alone; the people on the trail behind them and in front of them were a good thirty yards away, and out of hearing distance, in either direction. “Sure.”
“I hate stairs more than anything in the world, but I knew I could do this if I had you by my side.” Jon hugged Darrell and Darrell, surprised, hugged back. Then he started as Jon kissed his ear. “Thank you, man.”
Without another word, Jon turned and trudged away. Darrell stood frozen for a moment, staring after Jon, fingertips touching where Jon had kissed him, and then hurried to catch up.
At the next rest stop, their tour guide pointed out the peak between two mountaintops. “That is where we are headed. If you have a camera, you might be able to see the groups ahead of us.”
Jon brought out his camera and put on the long-distance lens. Even through the lens, the groups looked like ants on an anthill. He snapped a few shots, but figured they’d be useless.
Charles spoke up. “Oh, Lord. How high up is that spot?”
The tour guide smiled. “That is the top of Dead Woman’s Pass. It is forty-two hundred meters from sea level.”
Charles shook his head. Will said, “What’s that in feet?”
“Thirteen thousand, seven hundred feet, more or less,” the guide responded.
All the Americans in the group groaned. “Forty-two hundred meters sounds better,” Darrell complained.
“Which is why I would have kept it to myself, but your friend asked,” the guide returned. “Take your time, everyone; go at a steady pace. But please—do not kill yourselves trying to hurry. Camp will be there when you arrive.”
The group began to trickle up the hill, with Will and Laurie once again bracketing their guide like a guard detail. Jon and Darrell checked each other’s packs, and Ella and Miche plotted their own trek upwards.
But Charles sat with his head drooping. “I don’t know what made me think I could do this. I’m holding everyone up.”
The others who were still at the rest stop turned to him. “No, you’re not, Charles! You made it into camp only twenty minutes after we did!” Ella said. Others nodded, but Charles simply drooped more.
He doesn’t look all that great, Darrell thought.
But then, as if a signal had been given, every single person still remaining moved to Charles and hugged him, one by one, as they headed up the trail. “You can do this, man,” Darrell found himself saying as his turn to hug came. Charles looked quite startled, but decidedly less droopy, and the younger man, Trevor, walked with him as they continued along the trail.
I wonder what his story is. I’ll get it tonight when we make camp.
Darrell caught up with Ella and Miche. After they’d exchanged greetings, he said, “Jon and I are actually working on a book about this trip. I was wondering if you’d mind me telling your story too. What do you say?”
They looked at each other and then back at him. “I don’t see a problem with that,” Ella said.
“Me either,” Miche put in.
“So then...” Darrell said in an encouraging tone. “Well...” Ella looked as if she were approaching a
much more difficult topic than “How I Spent My Summer Vacation.”
“Miche and I had a good friend in uni who was Peruvian. Vanda, her name was. We talked about coming on this trek after graduation. You know, as a group,” she added as Darrell nodded. “And Vanda told us of the ruins, and this wild trek that people took. So we studied on it, and we all banded together to tramp everywhere and do this hike.”
“But we used to party really hard, and at one point we’d all almost been kicked out of uni for it,” Miche said. “And we...well...”
They both looked suddenly sorrowful. Ella hung her head and gripped her wooden walking stick. Miche hugged her one-armed while balancing with her own walking stick on the other side.
“What happened?” Darrell asked.
“She was killed by a drunk driver right before we finished uni. It was a horrid shock. After the funeral, and after we finished school, the two of us decided to do this for her.” Ella chuckled back a sob. “It’s far more miserable than she ever made it out to be. I’ve been wondering if the reason it’s so hard is so that we remember her with a loving heart when we get to the top.”
“That’s hard,” Darrell said, not knowing what else to say. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Somewhere, Vanda is laughing at us,” Miche said. She wiped one eye that twitched suspiciously.
“Yeah, that was what she did, all right,” Ella added.
They had slowed down so they could talk while they walked, and behind them, Trevor and Charles were catching up to them. “Sharing stories of ‘why are we here’?” Trevor asked as he came abreast of Miche and Ella.
“Sort of, yeah,” Darrell said. He went through the same explanation he’d given Miche and Ella about the book, and Trevor brightened.
“Sure, you can use my story. I came here on a dare.” “A dare?” Darrell asked. “What kind of dare?”
“One I refused to take lying down,” Trevor said, and his eyes hardened a little. “I made a deal with my father. He told me I was a slacker and couldn’t finish anything I started. I said I could hike Machu Picchu, and he laughed. For my birthday, he gave me the plane ticket and this tour. His last words were ‘I dare you’.
“But he was right. I’m such a slacker that I’m having a horrible time, really. I’ve brought nothing essential, my shoes were the only things I bought before I left, my backpack was something I used at school, and my clothes are barely warm enough. But
dammit, I’m going to do this, if it’s the last thing I do. And when I get back I’m headed to Oxford, and I will never talk to that bastard again in my life.”
Silence fell across the group as they walked along. The pain in Trevor’s voice had hit all of them like a hammer. Darrell was uncomfortable, too. Their stories were too close to his and Jon’s, in too many ways. Maybe it takes something like that to make people want to do this. Maybe the people who climb a mountain ‘because it’s there’ are actually few and far between.
“What brings you and your friend there on this trek?” Charles finally spoke up.
“My wife died last year,” Darrell said, his hand touching the necklace in his pocket. “I want to release something of hers, and let her live forever here. Jon lost his husband a few months before my Cece died, and he wants to sprinkle Edwin’s ashes here somewhere. I wouldn’t be here except that he insisted. He decided we needed to get out and be one with the world. You know, we have to start working on our bucket list.” He chuckled.
“But you’re not that old,” Miche said. “Are you?”
“I’m sixty-two,” Darrell said. It didn’t embarrass him like he thought it would, because a chorus of “No!” rang out around him in tones of disbelief and shock.
“Just don’t tell Laurie. We promised to let her keep her illusions, remember?”
The others laughed and promised to keep the secret.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Darrell,” Miche said. “Maybe sometime we could talk about it, if you want a listening ear.” Listening ears. He hadn’t had many of those since Cece died, and he’d damn near worn out the one pair that was willing to listen.
* * *
“Yes,” he said finally. “I’d like that. Now get on with you—most of you all walk faster than I can. I’ll see you up at camp.” ***
When they reached the camp, almost all of them were exhausted. The rain had left and then come back, and the porters’ sunshade had turned into a rain shade. Will and Laurie were standing at the entrance, looking out over the valley as others straggled in.
In His Arms Page 18
