by Sarah Tomp
“Good,” said Cotton. “I thought you and Flutie might have gone past this point.”
“You’re so annoying,” Flutie groaned.
“This is a great place to camp,” said Leo. “We could leave our extra gear here and plan to come back for the night.”
“No,” said Ria. “We want to go as far as we can. There will be another good place. We’ll keep going until we find it.”
“I’m not sure that’s smart,” said Leo.
“That’s what we’re doing,” Cotton said loudly. “The whole reason we planned this trip was to make progress. You’re losing sight of the goal, Leo.”
“And you’re being bossy. As usual,” said Flutie.
“You don’t get to make decisions. This was one of the guidelines we agreed on. You’re here as a guest. You don’t have the knowledge or the experience to make choices. You are to do as you are told.”
“But you don’t get to be a know-it-all.”
Ria stepped into the dark channel, away from their harsh words. As she moved along the slick trail, acquainting herself with these particular walls, another light’s glow came behind her. Leo had followed her.
“You’re smart to stay out of it,” he said.
“They sound so upset.”
“This argument is nothing. This is pleasant conversation. They’ll quit soon.”
She used to wish she’d had a brother or sister. Now she wasn’t so sure. But Leo’s prediction proved right, and soon Cotton and Flutie were with them again.
If it wasn’t for Leo’s alarm set to go off every half hour, Ria wouldn’t have had any idea how long they’d been inside the cave. With no sun and no outside world interruptions, there weren’t any of the usual ways to mark time passing. Reading the numbers on her mostly useless phone stopped meaning anything. They’d done some climbing after the pool room, enough that she wondered how close they were to the surface, but then the path flattened out so they could walk.
And walk. And walk.
Every so often, Cotton took a picture of a formation or variance in the rock. “To keep a record, so we know we’re on the right path.”
It didn’t seem entirely reliable, but it was something. Even the most distinct rocky shapes had started to look way too similar. She couldn’t swear they weren’t walking in one big circle. At one point she built a rock cairn, hoping they wouldn’t pass it again.
“I need a break,” Flutie said finally.
Ria was exhausted too. It didn’t matter in time how long they’d been going. It was the walking and climbing, but it was also the strain of the dim light. Of having to be aware of her head. Always thinking about where to put her feet, and hands, all of her.
“We need a place to break for real food and sleep,” said Leo. “We could probably make it back to the pool room.”
“Or we could see what’s ahead,” said Ria, unsure if she was being unreasonable. Going backward seemed like they’d be ending the trip. They’d be giving up before getting anywhere worth the difficulty of the work. She was still waiting for amazing.
“If we get too tired, someone is going to get hurt.”
The compromise was Cotton and Leo going on ahead, leaving Ria and Flutie waiting and sipping hot cocoa from Leo’s thermos.
“I want to see something,” said Flutie. “Like, really see it. Not with all the shadows and darkness.”
Ria knew what she meant, but it wasn’t an option at this point. No point wishing. Instead she said, “Hot cocoa was an excellent choice.”
“Mmm. Are you Cotton’s girlfriend?”
“Yeah.” She’d thought that was obvious. Maybe a vague sort of cluelessness ran in the family.
“Leo swears you’ve even kissed him. But wow. It’s so weird to think of him that way. He’s not exactly easy to please.”
“Me neither,” said Ria, realizing it was true.
“You’re so different from each other.”
In some ways, maybe. Ria leaned back against the rock wall. “Sameness is not the same thing as being in love.”
“Oh my God. You sound like Cotton. And you said ‘in love.’ My mind has been officially blown.” Flutie paused, then added, “In a good way.”
A clatter and stomping of boots on rock announced the return of the boys as they burst around the corner. There was a loud thunk and Cotton’s helmet flew off.
“Cotton!” Ria jumped up and grabbed it. “You knocked your light out.”
“I hit my head.”
“Duh,” said Flutie. Then, more gently, “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He took the helmet from Ria. Jiggled the light, but it stayed dark. “Good thing I have another bulb.”
“And, we found a place. There’s a cool grotto ahead. Ria, you were right.”
“She usually is,” said Cotton.
She was certain that no one in the history of Ria had ever said that about her. He had such a different way of seeing things.
Once they’d fixed his helmet, they moved along the next passageway. Excitement and renewed energy radiated off all of them. The walls in this part of the cave were slick and even. Too smooth to take note of. Every inch was the same shade of brown.
And then, it wasn’t.
The cave opened up. The space wasn’t wide or long. It was bigger than her trampoline, but not by much. All around them were a dizzying collection of rocky shelves—they could almost be called stairs—embedded within the rock walls, leading upward and downward, sometimes both, at the same time. Each variation dripped with brilliant stalactite crystals. The whole room glowed with a hint of blue, or yellow. Green and almost orange. Except the subtle colors seemed to shift and change when she tried to study them.
She moved to the wall, shining her light. Up close, the crystal looked grayish-white, but as she stepped back, the faint hue of color returned. “It’s us! The colors are us. We’re in the reflection.” She laughed at the surprise of it. “It’s a kaleidoscope room.”
There was a buzz among them as they set up a simple camp, all the while playing with their reflections. They spread a tarp on the ground so they wouldn’t be resting in damp earth and mud. Cotton set up his camp stove on one of the lower steps. The flame of it set red and orange dancing on the wall. The smell of the stew he’d brought felt like it was thick and rich enough to earn a reflection too.
“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. In fact, there’s no point in eating again. Nothing will ever be this delicious.”
“Sounds like a challenge,” said Leo.
“Yes,” said Cotton. “I look forward to passing your expectations.”
The room was big enough for their four sleeping bags, but small enough that there wasn’t any arguing about the arrangement. The girls were in the middle and the boys were on either end. They were all too close and cozy for any kind of kissing. Especially knowing the way every rustle of the sleeping bag sounded louder in the dark.
Ria didn’t feel tired enough to sleep, but she closed her eyes against the nothing to see. A lullaby of scents and sounds and knowing she wasn’t alone mellowed her mind, sending her onward.
Forty
Ria woke with a sudden shock. She wasn’t sure what had startled her awake. She blinked wildly, felt close to panic when her eyes didn’t work. There was nothing to see in this darkest of dark. Her heart thumped too hard; she felt sweaty on the back of her neck. Her jaw ached. She’d been gritting her teeth so tight they didn’t feel like hers. Especially when she couldn’t find the chipped one. But it was still there.
Fear was here, too.
She rolled over, her knees bumping against Cotton. He sat up. She sensed him reaching out, then a small light appeared, forcing her to squint against its surprise. She grabbed his hand and tugged.
Wordlessly, they left their sleeping bags and headed out of the crystal room. The sweat under her clothes left her feeling shivery. She had no idea how long they’d been asleep. Or what time it was. They made their way along the trail, as if
they knew where they were going.
A few minutes later, after turning twice, Cotton stopped walking. She could smell her own sweat mixed with his. It wasn’t unpleasant. Closer to reassuring. Their bodies were working. Her cut still hurt. She was tender in the spots Benny had hit. Also, her hips felt sore and her shoulders were tight. But it was the low-grade burn of fear she’d woken with that had left her unsteady.
“What’s wrong?”
“What would you miss most?” she asked. “If we got lost down here. If we never made it back, what would you miss?”
“We aren’t lost,” said Cotton. “I know exactly where we are.”
She felt relief to hear him say what she’d trusted and assumed. Hoped.
“I’m scared,” she said. But it wasn’t the cave that had her feeling shaky. It was Benny. He didn’t belong here, but he’d slipped in, crawled along beside her, nestled into the spot that made her breathing feel tight.
“How do you carry your missing every day?” She barely recognized her own voice, all strangled and twisted. “I know you miss Esther all the time, so what do you do with the missing? Where does it go so you can do other things?”
“It doesn’t go anywhere. It’s still here. I miss her now. Right here. But you’re here too. And that’s good. It’s both.”
She reached up and he bent over, and in the middle space, they kissed. It was an awkward reach. Her arms felt too aware of themselves and helmets made kissing difficult. Left on the ground with the light on, was much better.
Cotton was right. This was good. The cave wall behind her felt cold and damp, but it was such a trivial discomfort, irrelevant compared to the heat of him, warm and solid, pressed tight against her. Even with the ache and swirl in her head, kissing him felt right and real and now. In the dark, tightly wrapped together, missing took on a different color. But Fear was here too.
“I’m scared of Benny.”
“He’s not here.”
“He’s always in my head. All the time. I’m scared he’s going to find out I’m here. He won’t like it. He’ll say it’s dangerous or reckless or a waste of time. I’ve kept this place a secret from everyone I know because of him. Someone else would have told him, not because they want to hurt me, but because he always finds things out. This cave is the one thing he doesn’t know.” Her voice was thick in her aching throat.
“It was Benny who scared me at that meet. The other coach yelled, but in my head it was him. I thought I was being chased, so I ran. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I was running from Benny.”
“He won’t find you here. You’re safe.”
But she couldn’t stay here forever. And when they left the dark, Benny would be there, waiting for her. They’d be headed to Colorado and the NDT where she’d have to keep her balance—and Benny’s, too—in a whole new place with all-new pressures and coaches and comparisons. The unknown was too enormous and dark, filled with shadows and worries.
Cotton wrapped his arm around her. For now he was someone to lean on. Now was her new favorite time.
“If he’s so awful, why do I miss it so much? Why do I miss diving?”
“Diving is not the same as Benny.”
But for her, it was. Diving had always been wrapped up in his orders and approval, and control.
“I don’t know how to dive.” Cotton’s voice was deep and warm. “I understand the different parts: approach, hurdle, lift, flip, entry. And I know logically that you control your muscles and move your body in a particular way for the desired motion, but I don’t understand how you put it all together. It seems impossible.”
“It takes practice. Hard work.”
“Yes. But I still don’t fully understand it. I couldn’t do it. Most people can’t. Not like you. So maybe I have this wrong, but I keep going back to Ms. Q’s rules.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not acceptable to hit. We use our words, not our hands.”
She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Benny didn’t follow Ms. Q’s rules. Or anyone’s but his own.
“Cotton? Ria?” Flutie sounded worried, from somewhere along the rocks.
Ria pulled herself away from him and called out, “We’ll be right there.” She handed him his helmet and said, “We’re being summoned,” the way she knew he was about to say.
After a quick breakfast, they were all eager to get moving.
It was a tight fit now. Four times two was a lot of feet too close together. She needed to move, to leave this cramped space and to shake off her haunting worry.
“The dark is seriously getting on my nerves,” said Flutie.
They all laughed, but Ria agreed that something about this part of the cave felt different. The echoes here were a lower pitch. It was like the walls had a different composition. Or maybe it was a thickness of the air.
When Cotton suddenly stopped, she crashed into him. She heard Flutie slip seconds before her boots collided with the back of Ria’s heels. Then the bump of Leo at the back.
“Cotton! Warn us if you’re going to stop,” fussed Flutie.
He didn’t answer. He took off his helmet and turned it over in his hands. Ria shone her light so he could see. He fiddled with the inner lining, then ran his hand over his head. “I think I have a knot. From last night.”
Ria reached out, ran her fingers through his hair, roaming his scalp. “Whoa, Cotton! Yes, you have a knot. That must hurt.”
“Please stop pressing it.”
“Sorry.”
“Are you good to keep going?” asked Leo.
“Yes.” Except he still didn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” Ria asked.
“Listen.”
At first, all she heard was breathing. All four of them were slightly winded. There was a creak from someone’s gear. Then, she realized she heard a roar of white noise in the background. Faster and steadier than the sound of bats. “What is it?” she asked, bracing herself for the answer.
“Water,” said Cotton.
She laughed—they all did—as fear and hesitation morphed into thrill. “Let’s find it.”
A few minutes later, they turned a corner, and the roar intensified. Ria could feel moisture in the air. Little bits of cool spray hit her face, her hands, the only parts of her exposed. Tiny droplets on Cotton’s eyelashes glowed in her helmet light.
“It must be close. The ground is slippery.”
As if to prove his point, he slid, crashing sideways against the rock. His helmet illuminated the wall and the black spray-painted words: Jerry loves Joey.
“I hate that,” said Leo. “It’s so Neanderthal.”
“Someone else was here.” Disappointed, she looked around, as if she expected Jerry and Joey to appear. She turned to Cotton. “Did you hit your head again?”
“I don’t know.” He stood up straighter, throwing his shoulders back. “I think I’m fine.”
Flutie said, “Well, except for the big dose of awkward to go with your bruises.”
“Let’s keep going.” Leo maneuvered his way in front. Ria stayed in back, behind Cotton and Flutie.
Around one more twist of the trail, they—all of them at once—finally and suddenly saw what made the thunderous roar. A waterfall. A real, honest-to-goodness, water-gushing, spray-streaming, water-falling waterfall.
It started up high, above Cotton’s head, at least twice his height. The water looked like it was being poured from the rock. The tremendous force of it formed a white and frothy wall pulsing and throbbing, surging and retreating. And loud. So loud. Each and every splish, splash, and whoosh echoed, making a roar of noise with no particular shape and border. Ria wished she could pause the sound a minute, just to catch her breath and take in the waterfall without feeling quite so overwhelmed. But maybe she was supposed to be overwhelmed.
“Where does the water go?”
“There’s a pocket in the rocks. I can hear the water under us. There’s a river below. There must be a whole other layer of cave d
own there.” Cotton was in observation mode. He’d already started taking measurements, making notes.
Leo and Flutie moved to the left side of the waterfall, holding out their hands, letting the water pour into them. Ria slipped off her shoes for a better feel for the terrain, then clambered over the rocks, trying to get another view, and to see if the sound wasn’t quite so intense on the other side.
There was an opening behind the waterfall, possibly leading to more cave. She couldn’t see much from where she stood. She saw a way to get there through a narrow, horizontal slit between the rocks. She called to Cotton, but her words were lost in the roar. He was busy studying something. The others might not fit this way, but she could take a quick peek and see if it was worth exploring. Flat, with her stomach against the rock, she moved feet-first backward, into the chasm. At the last second she realized her helmet wouldn’t fit while it was on her head. She took it off, pulled it through, and turned to see where she’d ended up.
Her foot slipped and the rest of her followed, down, down, sliding downward along the slick rocky wall, with a rush into a cold pool of froth.
The water gurgled and roiled, over her shoulders, into her mouth. A current, strong and whirling, pulled her still downward. It wasn’t enough that she’d slipped down this chimney-like space; the water pulled her even lower, under the surface. Panic hit, hard. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t yell for help, couldn’t think at all. She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to lose her contacts, too. Her legs kicked reflexively, her arms reached for something, anything, but only found slick rock.
She was going to drown. The pull was too strong, too everywhere to think she could win this fight. There was no point struggling. Everything was over. Fear whispered, “Let go.”
Eyes still closed, she leaned back into the pillow of bubbles.
She didn’t sink.
The churning waves still raged against her arms and legs and spine, but floating near the surface, she bobbed instead of dragged. She’d lost her helmet in the fall, but when she squinted, peeking with one eye, the space glowed faintly, eerily—wherever it was, its bulb was still lit. As long as she stayed prone, she floated, slowly spinning and dipping, but able to breathe.
