“What’s going on?” Mom scoots down the aisle. “What’s the problem?”
Michelle stands. She’s trembling as we exchange terrified looks. My eyes plead:
You said I was stepping into my destiny.
You said it was my turn to lead.
Let me lead.
Michelle plasters a fake smile on her face. I recognize the smile. It’s the one she uses when people think she’s my mom. “I’m being difficult. She’s fine. O2 sat seemed a bit low but it’s fine. She’s good to hike.”
“You sure?” Mom looks and sounds pretty concerned.
Michelle fiddles with the zipper on her hoodie. “I’m sure.”
Mom exhales, relieved. “Oh, good.”
“Indigo?” Michelle says as Mom and Dad start chatting with Pastor. “Can I talk to you outside? Privately?”
* * *
Michelle and I are standing a few feet away from the bus, watching as Violet is lowered down the lift in the all-terrain wheelchair.
“When did it start?” Michelle speaks in a low, hushed voice.
I shrug.
“Indigo, please. Now is not the time.”
“Last night. On the bus.”
“So you lied? She didn’t have a good night at all, did she?”
I focus my eyes on the snow as it melds with the parking lot gravel, pulling tightly on my hiking pack. “No. It was a rough night. Like you said it would be. And she was bleeding this morning.”
“Bleeding?”
“I Googled it. I think it’s her liver. Acute liver failure is probably what we’re dealing with here. But it doesn’t matter. I think she needs to take this hike anyway.”
“Acute liver failure?” Michelle laughs. “Indigo, can you please stop Googling random symptoms and thinking you’re a doctor.”
“You don’t think she has acute liver failure?”
“Girl, please. First of all, a person’s liver doesn’t just shut down and turn off like a heart can. Second, she’d be jaundiced. Yellowing eyes. Her skin color would be off. Her liver is not failing.”
“Oh. Then why are her legs swollen?”
Michelle shrugs. “I can’t run labs out here in the desert, so I don’t know. My guess is she’s been sitting too long and needs to move around. But that’s just a guess. It could be a number of things.”
“But her belly is swollen, too.”
“Was she throwing up a lot last night?”
I nod.
“Normal. Her belly gets like that sometimes.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “And the blood?”
“Side effect of the Nathaxopril. It affects your cycles.”
“We thought she was dying.”
“Indigo, she is dying.”
“You know what I mean.” I glance over Michelle’s shoulder. Violet’s coughing pretty badly again. “When we get her to the Wave everything will be fixed.”
Michelle stuffs her hands into the pockets of her coat. Flurries of snow land in her eyelashes. She blinks them away. Something’s definitely changed about Michelle since this morning. Boarding the bus at the Airbnb she looked hopeful, and there was a twinkle in her eye. Now her eyes are ominous. As dark as the sky.
“What’s wrong, Michelle?”
“Indigo, Violet’s O2 sat was low when I checked it just now.”
“What? No. That I didn’t lie about. The numbers were good all night. I swear it.”
“I believe you.” Michelle blinks away more flurries of snow. “But I checked it a few minutes ago. It’s dipped again.”
“Can she make the hike?”
Michelle shakes her head. “She shouldn’t.”
“What? Michelle, please don’t say this. Don’t do this.”
I glance over her shoulder again. Mom and Dad are loading Violet’s hydration pack onto the wheelchair while the rangers and Violet chat away like they’re new best friends.
“Indigo.” Michelle looks deeply into my eyes. “I have a tough time with the voice of God being all...yeah, take this sick and dying girl on a dangerous hike.”
“The Voice said to do it initially.” I kick gravel with my hiking boots. “But then after the attack on the bus, he told me not to. He said to get her to the hospital. He said you were right.” I brace myself for an explosion from Michelle but instead she turns to look back at the family. Violet, Mom and Dad continue to chat with the rangers. With the flurries falling on them like slow-motion raindrops, it looks like they’re all stuffed inside a snow globe. “Are you gonna tell Mom and Dad?”
“Of course I am. Her blood’s not getting enough oxygen. They need to know. She could become hypoxic again. This is the second day of low O2 sat and her oxygen is cranked up as high as it can go.”
“Does that mean she dies?”
“Not necessarily. She needs more help. I’m no doctor...”
“Yet.”
“Yet. Right. But if I were her doctor, I’d place her on a ventilator. I feel like it’s her only option at this point. The ventilator can keep her alive.”
A shiver rushes up my spine. I know my sister. A ventilator wouldn’t be an option for her. “But what if we get to the Wave and then she’s healed and all is well?”
“In case we’re not next in line for a miracle like that of the parting of the Red Sea, I’m calling for emergency services.”
“No. Michelle, no.”
“But...” She lays a hand on my shoulder. “I’m gonna give you guys a running head start.”
I look up, blinking away snowflakes and tears.
“Somehow, Indigo. This faith you got. It’s contagious or something. Most of me thinks this is insane. But there is this tiny part of me. Like...” She presses her thumb and forefinger together. “This small. Says what if? What if this could work, you know? What if this is real?” She takes off her gloves and wipes her eyes.
“How long will you wait before calling for emergency?”
“I’m gonna ride back with the other ranger and call from the closest station. However long it takes to get there.”
“I should’ve told you. I’m sorry, Michelle.”
“Don’t be sorry. Keep the faith. Take it with you. See how far it carries you. I love you, Indigo.” She leans forward and hugs me tight. “I love you both.”
When I peek over Michelle’s shoulder, Mom is moving toward us.
“Hey, you two,” Mom says breathlessly, an air of excitement in her voice as she reaches our side, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. “Mind if I talk to Indigo alone, Michelle?”
“Don’t mind at all, Mom. I’ll go and say goodbye to my sister.”
Of course Mom doesn’t notice, but I can hear in Michelle’s voice that she thinks she could be saying goodbye to Violet forever. Michelle and I exchange troubled looks and she moves off.
“This is really amazing, Indigo. Violet seems so...alive. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her this way.”
I nod and kick a few pebbles of gravel around with my hiking boot. I know Mom’s not here to talk to me about Violet. Somehow I know it’s about me this time.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Mom goes on. “But Alfred is right.”
I push more gravel around with my boot. “Alfred is right about a lot of things.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” She chuckles. “But...” She pauses, seemingly gathering her thoughts. “At the hospital he said you might need to be assessed. That second attempts at...suicide are common.”
“Oh. That.” I stuff my hands into my pockets. “I’m okay with being assessed. But I can assure you. I don’t want to die. I just...”
“Don’t want to live without Violet?” Mom offers, a kindness to her voice I’m not used to hearing.
I nod. “Or maybe I feel like I don’t deserve to live. Or... I dunno. Maybe I feel
like the family would be better off if it was me dying instead of her.”
Flurries of silent snowflakes continue to fall. It’s cold outside. But I feel warm in this moment of truth. Finally free to tell my mom exactly how I feel.
“I don’t want to see any of my children die, Indigo. One is not better than the other.”
“I find that hard to believe. Violet seems like the clear favorite.”
“Violet is easygoing. She agrees just to make peace. Smiles to put people at ease. Lets others lead. You challenge your father and me. You disagree often. You always want to lead. You resist authority and seem hell-bent on taking the road less traveled. Even though that road may lead you off a cliff someday. Or a building.
“Maybe it seems like we prefer Violet because perhaps our relationship—yours and mine—has been the least tended to. I take responsibility for that. I will learn your love language and try to speak it more often. I promise I will. But if I’m being honest... I like feeling like I have control over my children. And I am fully aware that I don’t know how to guide you to where you’re going.”
“But Violet and I have the same dreams and aspirations. We’re going the same place.”
“But it’s different with Vee.” Mom shakes her head. “Violet’s following the leader. And that’s you. You’ve always guided her. Ever since you both started crawling. She only wants to do what you do. That’s her path. That’s her destiny. But I feel terrified when it comes to the path you’ve chosen. That day you told me about the award and the winning photo, I got scared. That’s why I didn’t want to look at it right away. I didn’t want you to see fear in my eyes. I don’t ever want to discourage your dreams. But I was scared. I am scared. When you went upstairs, I Googled Lynsey Addario and I—”
“Wait. You Googled her?”
Mom nods. “I looked at some of her photos online and I thought of all she has seen and experienced to take those beautiful photos...and...” She swallows. “You’re on a path to touch the world. But do you know how many great minds like yours have touched the world and seen nothing but darkness? I can’t guide you past Seattle, Indigo. Learning I might lose Violet has been hard. Because I never imagined losing her. But you... Indigo, I have always known that I would lose you someday. I knew you would seek out great adventure and purpose. Your destiny...” She sighs. “Jesus, Indigo. It terrifies me.”
For some reason Mom’s admission doesn’t surprise me. Perhaps having Violet by my side has given me a false sense of security. Perhaps I really wanted to die...because I’m afraid of my destiny, too. “I could stay close to home. I don’t have to travel the world.”
“You’d be a caged bird.” The frown lines on Mom’s forehead become more prominent as she shakes her head vehemently. “I don’t want that. I’m okay with you spreading your wings to fly, Indigo. But you have to be, too. You have to want to live.”
I stare off toward the path of the hike. “Do you think we’ll find a miracle out there at the Wave, Mom?”
Mom pulls me close and holds me tight. “I think you already have.”
* * *
Our ranger’s name is Clint West. Like...that’s his real name. Anyway, Clint is doing a wonderful job. Not only do we not have to worry about which direction is the right direction to the Wave, he gives us details and information about the history of the land and fun stories about weird and wacky hikers.
“Okay, quick.” He spins around and walks backward. Despite having a name that sounds like he should be a member of a cowboy gang, Clint is a younger, nerdy type. I’d say early twenties. “Found a hiker passed out cold on this exact spot. Dehydration fifteen minutes in. Scariest thing. When I got here, I thought he’d dropped dead.”
“What happened after you found him?” Violet asks, gliding up the incline in her all-terrain wheelchair. A wheelchair which, simply put, is badass. All Violet has to do is essentially twiddle her thumbs to move the giant wheels over the desert terrain of the trail and she’s good to go. But her coughing. I groan. It’s echoing across the open plain.
“After a bottle of water he was fine.” Clint turns to walk forward again. “Out of shape and drank a Monster energy drink before hitting the trail. Just because you win the lottery doesn’t mean you’re sane. Or any other synonym for competent.”
Drew laughs. “You sound like my sister-in-law.”
I study our surroundings. This stretch of land is like the employee in Kanab described it: cross-country, slight incline, unassuming—like you would never guess this road leads to some otherworldly beauty. Though the bursts of falling snow do seem like fairy dust is being sprinkled over the trail, directing us to some sort of enchantment. I lift my camera for the first time since the hike began.
Click-click.
“How do I sound like your sis-in-law?” Clint asks as we all trudge along.
“She reads the thesaurus for fun,” Drew explains. “Synonyms are sort of her thing.”
“I do that, too!” Clint exclaims.
“Well, birds of a feather. She’s right behind you.” Drew turns and winks at me.
My brow furrows. Why is Drew winking at me?
Clint spins back around so that he’s walking backward once again. He points at me. “Is it you? Are you the one who reads the thesaurus?”
“Guilty,” I say, more than slightly out of breath. Clint might be in shape and able to walk backward and talk. But the one word I’ve uttered has left me winded. It’s not that it’s a tough hike, it’s just...well...a hike. And since Violet’s been sick I haven’t done any form of exercise. Unless you count climbing a building in the dead of night. I’m exhausted. But at least the winter chill is no longer to be feared. In fact, I’m sweating.
“Sweetness.” Clint turns back around, moving across the slightly elevating terrain as if it’s a hike for kids. He’s practically skipping. “We should get together and exchange synonyms and antonyms.”
Did he just ask me out on a date? A very weird...literary date? Drew twists his head and winks at me again. What the hell?
“Fun fact time,” Clint sings. “The Wave started forming over one hundred ninety million years ago. During the Jurassic period. Not to be confused with Jurassic World. Those movies started forming in the 1990s.”
I rush up alongside Violet’s chair as Clint rambles about the Wave.
“How you feeling, sis?” I whisper.
She waves me off. “Shh. I wanna hear this.”
“It’s said,” Clint continues, “that the swirling rock formations were formed by high winds and rain erosion. So the winds pushed the sand dunes, and the dunes, over time, compacted and solidified.”
“And what...about the colors?” Violet asks. “How did the colors form?”
“Ahh, good question.” Clint seems more than happy to talk Wave talk. “Swirled bands of color is how we like to refer to them here at the Utah-Arizona border. Created by deposited minerals from the water runoff. Try saying that five times fast.”
“Fascinating.” Violet coughs. “I can’t...wait to see it.”
“I know, right?” Drew adds. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Glad I get to accompany you, sis.” He lifts the hose from his hydration pack to take a sip of water.
Water. Good idea. I take a giant gulp of mine as well.
* * *
We’re over an hour into the hike when the terrain changes. It’s no longer crumbles of sienna brown desert dirt. We’re now walking across slabs of hard red sandstone. Far off in the distance are splatterings of rocks that look like tiny mountain ranges.
Click-click.
The ruddy sandstone makes the flurries of falling snow glimmer so bright white it appears unreal. It’s as if we’re on another planet.
Click-click.
Clint points. “That’s our destination way over there. On the other side of those rocks.”
“See
ms so close.” Violet’s wheelchair expertly rolls across the snow-covered sandstone.
“And yet so far away,” Clint replies. “In about twenty minutes we’ll have to move through somewhat of a narrow passage. Not claustrophobia narrow, but the wheelchair won’t be able to fit. But after we cross between the dunes it’s the home stretch.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Drew says. “It’ll be fine. We’ll make it work.”
“And it’s okay...to...leave the chair?” I ask, sounding more out of breath than Violet.
“Sure,” Clint replies. “The wildlife out here are usually pretty good about not taking things that don’t belong to them.”
“Ground squirrels have shifty eyes.” I adjust the zoom on my camera. “I wouldn’t put it past a gang of them.”
Clint laughs. “Nothing worse than a gang of ground squirrels.”
Click-click-click.
* * *
We’ve made it to the point where we have to ditch Violet’s wheelchair. As we approach the dunes, Clint stops and turns. Up close, I notice he has blue-gray eyes, natural blond hair and a splattering of freckles on his nose. His appearance is timeless. Like a Nordic king from twelfth-century Sweden.
“You guys wanna take a break? Have some water? A snack? Violet, you need anything?” Clint asks.
Violet and I exchange determined looks. We both want to get to the Wave as soon as possible.
“No,” Violet answers. “Drew, do you mind? Can we keep moving?”
Drew sips water from his hydration pack. “I’m good with that.”
As Drew assists Violet, helping her out of the wheelchair, I swallow nervously. If Violet’s blood’s not getting enough oxygen, any sort of movement could send her over the edge.
“I can help,” I offer. “We can do the six-legged thing you guys did at the marathon.”
Drew shakes his head. “The basin slopes down but doesn’t seem too difficult. I think the six-legged thing would make it more complicated at this point.”
“I wish I could help,” Clint offers. “But we’re not allowed to assist hikers unless they’re in some sort of peril. Though peril is a relative term. I tell my boss that all the time.”
The Voice in My Head Page 23
