The Other Side of Lost

by Jessi Kirby

  “When we were little, we used to go off adventuring in the woods and pretend we were lost and had to survive on our own. My aunt would pack us picnic lunches, but we’d try to eat the pine nuts we’d pull out of pinecones instead, just to see if we could do it.” I picture us there, grimacing and spitting out the bitter nuts, and it makes me laugh.

  “Blueberries would’ve been a jackpot then,” Vanessa says.

  I look down at the ones in my palm. “Yeah, they would’ve been.”

  We’re quiet, listening to the bubbling of the creek beside us, and I search for something to say, some way to change the subject before it veers off into sadder territory.

  “I bet she’d be really proud of you for doing this,” Vanessa says. “For being out here—taking it on by yourself. That’s huge. There’s not many people who would do that.”

  “I’m not by myself anymore,” I say. I look at her. “And I’m really thankful for that. For you guys, and the way you let me join the group.”

  Vanessa laughs. “We didn’t let you, you just fit. That’s how it works out here.”

  “Well, thank you. Either way.”

  “Things okay with Josh?”

  “Yeah,” I say. “You were right about that whole thing kind of fixing itself.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” She smiles. “Should we pick some of these blueberries for the boys?”

  I nod, and then dig in the pocket of my pack for something to put them in.

  We spend the next half hour quietly picking blueberries beside the stream. It’s peaceful and easy to be here with Vanessa like this, and it’s hard to explain, but when I glance over at her and she smiles, I know this will be one of my best memories from this whole thing.

  We catch up with the rest of the group at the top of Selden Pass, where they’ve stopped to wait for us, and to take in the view.

  Josh smiles. “It’s about time. We’ve been waiting for you guys.”

  “For what?” Vanessa asks.

  Jack comes up to her and wraps his arm around her shoulder. “To celebrate.”

  “What are we celebrating?” she asks as she leans into him and smiles.

  “A very important milestone,” Colin says.

  Beau chimes in. “Has to do with how many miles we’ve hiked . . . It’s kind of a big deal . . .”

  Josh takes a step toward me, gestures to the valley below, then looks right at me. A smile lights up his eyes. “Do you know how far we’ve come?”

  I stopped keeping track when I lost Bri’s journal, but I try to go back to the last time I knew and estimate.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “How far?”

  “One hundred miles,” Josh says. And then he smiles at me, speaks a touch softer. “We’ve hiked a hundred miles, Mari.”

  “Really?” I feel like I want to laugh or cry or both. I sweep my eyes over the dry craggy rocks of the mountains all around, and the sapphire blue patchwork of lakes nestled far below, and it’s another one of those moments I know I will always remember. Standing right here on top of this mountain, with these people, feeling truly happy inside. And proud—of myself—for the first time in forever.

  I wipe at my eyes behind my sunglasses. “This is amazing. I never thought I’d be here,” I say, and I don’t just mean the miles. It’s everything else too.

  “All right. Everybody squeeze. We gotta get a picture of this,” Vanessa says.

  Jack produces a selfie stick, expertly fashioned from a trekking pole and duct tape, his phone on the end of it. “You guys ready?”

  We all crowd together, and Jack sets the timer before he holds the stick high in the air above us. We stand smiling against a dramatic backdrop of blue sky and mountains, and when I catch a glimpse of myself, I see it. That same look of freedom and happiness that Bri had in her pictures. When I feel everyone’s arms come around each other, I lean in. To them, and this feeling, and the slowly growing idea that maybe I’m not just pretending anymore. Maybe this is who I am becoming.

  Someone New Entirely

  WE REACH THE oasis of Muir Trail Ranch in the late afternoon, and though it’s been a long day distance-wise, I feel the best I have since I began. I’ve hiked over a hundred miles. And right now, each one of those miles feels earned.

  We head over to the storeroom to claim our resupply buckets first, since it’ll be closing soon. I wait, just like I did the last time, in line behind everyone else, trying to figure out how not to have the same conversation that I did with the woman at Red’s Meadow. Beau and Colin, then Vanessa and Jack step up, give the clerk their names, then sign for their buckets and step off to the side to wait. Josh signs for his next, but once he has it, he waits at the counter.

  “Your turn, Bri,” he says, giving me a look.

  I step up to where a friendly-looking, white-haired gentleman is waiting with a clipboard.

  “Name, please?”

  “Um . . . Bri Young?” I hope he doesn’t notice the nerves in my voice.

  “You sure about that?” he asks. Then he winks and flips through a few pages until he finds the claim check. “Here you are. Sign right here, Miss Young.”

  I feel a little guilty when I do, and he disappears into the storage shed to get it. I look at Josh. “That was too easy,” I whisper.

  He shrugs. “He doesn’t have any reason not to trust that you are who you say you are way out here.”

  “I guess not,” I say, and smile, but the guilt in my stomach twists itself a little tighter at his words.

  Neither do any of you, I think.

  But before I can follow that train of thought too far, the man comes back with a bright orange bucket and sets it on the ground next to me with a thud. “Here ya go, sweetie. Enjoy.” The bucket is heavy when I pick it up, and I can’t wait to see what’s inside. I turn to go.

  “Hold up right there,” he says, looking at me over his glasses when I turn back around. My heart stops in my chest, and I’m sure I’m somehow caught. He knows I’m not Bri.

  “We’re a little short-staffed today,” he says with a smile, “so I’ll be checking you into your tent cabin too.”

  “My what?”

  He looks down at his clipboard. “Bri Young, right?”

  I nod, and he flips through the pages on a different clipboard. “Yep. We have you down for this week—one night.”

  “Right,” I say slowly, like I know what he’s talking about. “One night.”

  I sneak a glance at Josh and the rest of the group, who all look as surprised as I am.

  “Okay, good. Now. The tent cabins are down along the river there.” He points. “You’ll find a single and a double bed in yours. Pillows and quilts too, but you’ll need your sleeping bags to keep warm. Dinner’s served in the lodge over there around seven. That’s where breakfast is tomorrow morning too. Store, laundry, and hot spring baths are all over that way.” He smiles. “Any questions?”

  I want to hug this man. “How much does it cost?” At this point, I would pay anything.

  “It’s already paid for,” he says, and now I can hardly contain myself.

  “REALLY?”

  This makes him laugh. “Really.” He glances over my shoulder at the rest of the group behind me. “And, if your friends are interested, we had a couple leave a day early, so there’s one more tent cabin available. Between the two of ’em, you ought to all be able to fit for the night.”

  “We’ll take it,” I say without waiting for anyone else to answer, and I dig in my pack for my wallet, which feels like a strange and foreign thing to do. I pull out my stash of cash, happy to finally have a way to repay the kindness the whole crew has shown me from the very beginning. Once the bill is settled and the tent cabins are ours, we walk through the ranch with our buckets like we’ve just checked into a luxury hotel, ecstatic to see all it has to offer.

  Turns out, it’s a lot. Muir Trail Ranch is a cluster of rustic log cabin buildings that include a store fully stocked with all of the sugary, snacky goodness you can im
agine, a grill with real food, a lodge with a fireplace lounge decked out with comfy furniture, books, games, internet, and, like he said, a place to do laundry. We’re like kids in a candy store, oohing and aahing over comforts we once would’ve overlooked that now feel luxurious and indulgent.

  The woman inside the lodge introduces herself. She’s friendly and welcoming, and lets us know that dinner will be served in an hour or so, and that it will be “barbecue on the terrace.” Just when I think it can’t get any better, she reminds us that there are two natural hot baths available for a charge, but that the natural springs in the meadow are free to all to use. It’s probably a friendly hint to wash up before dinner, but I don’t mind at all.

  I don’t mind anything right now, and no one else does either. We follow her directions down the path to the river, where we find our two tent cabins, with their cute little front porches, and we stand in front of them for a moment, marveling at our good fortune.

  Colin lets out a low whistle. “Look at this. Miss Badass, coming through with the luxury accommodations.”

  “We be sleeping in BEDS tonight,” Beau says with a grin.

  Vanessa comes up next to me. “Mari, this is amazing. Seriously, thank you.”

  “Thank YOU, guys . . . for everything out here. You have no idea how much it’s meant, being part of this group.” It surprises me, but I choke up a little when I say it. I shake my head, not wanting to cry in front of them. “But this wasn’t me. I mean . . . I didn’t book this—my cousin did when she planned the trip.”

  “Well, thank you to Bri then,” Vanessa says. She squeezes my shoulder. “And to you. We get to be here tonight because of you.”

  “No,” I say. “I never would’ve made it this far without all of you.”

  “Aww,” Beau crows. “You guys are the cutest. We better bring it in for a group hug, right here.” He spreads his tattooed arms wide and sweeps us all up in them, smooshing us together until we’re all laughing.

  “Dude,” Jack says, his voice muffled by the hug. “Someone here stinks.”

  Josh backs out of the hug. “I’m pretty sure we all do.”

  “Time to hit the baths,” Vanessa says with a smile.

  After we figure out our sleeping arrangements for the night, it’s decided that Vanessa and I will take advantage of the enclosed baths, and the boys will head to the springs in the meadow. Josh and I lug our resupply buckets and packs to my tent cabin, which we’ll be sharing with Beau, who has already claimed the single bed with his pack.

  “This place is awesome,” Josh says as he sets his stuff down on the floor next to Beau’s bed. He takes a step toward me and smiles. “Thank you for inviting us into your luxurious tent cabin.”

  I set my bucket down and let the pack slide off my shoulders, almost giddy at the immediate lightness I feel. “Thank you for helping me get through a hundred miles.”

  He gives me a look, then takes another step toward me so that we’re standing face-to-face, close. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You got yourself here.”

  I think of all the encouragement and help everyone has given me so far. “Not exactly,” I say, looking up at him.

  Josh shakes his head. “You gotta stop doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Not giving yourself enough credit for what you’re doing.”

  I look down at the floor. “I . . .”

  I want to come clean right there and tell him that I never would’ve done this on my own, ever. If Bri hadn’t died, if that package hadn’t shown up on my doorstep, if none of those things had happened, I’d probably still be sitting at home posting perfect pictures of a fake life.

  “You what?” he asks softly.

  I look back up at him. “I just . . . This is my cousin’s trip. She was the one who was going to do it, and who planned it, and mapped it, and—”

  “And you’re here now,” he says. “That counts for something.”

  We stand there, quiet, in the middle of the cabin, and I don’t know what to say, and I can feel myself start to get choked up again so it’s a relief when Beau comes through the door, arms full of packaged food from the store.

  “You guys—I just bought them out of all their Oreos. And there’s a hiker box, where people leave stuff they don’t want, and I found a whole box of Cheez-Its in there—for FREE.” He stops. “Oh shit. Did I interrupt something? I can eat on the porch . . .”

  “No,” I say, going over to my bucket. “I was just about to get my stuff out and head over to the bath.”

  Josh looks at me for a long moment before he turns to Beau. “Looks like you scored. Let’s see what you got.”

  They sit down on the twin bed and Beau spreads out the snacks. I sit down on the edge of the bed across from them and slide my bucket between my knees. Though I’m dying to see what’s inside, I feel self-conscious unpacking it with them right there, so I pop the lid open and peek inside. Sure enough, there’s a note on top. I slide it out and tuck it into my pocket to read when I can be alone, and then I see a fresh pair of socks and underwear and a new camp towel that are right on top of the rest of the supplies. Rolled up in the towel are two tiny bottles—shampoo and conditioner—a bar of soap that smells like apricot, and a razor. Clearly, Bri was looking forward to a bath here too.

  I gather it all up, along with my cleanest change of clothes. “I’ll see you guys in a little while, okay?”

  “Yep,” Beau says, prying open the lid of his bucket. “I got just the thing to go with this stuff,” he says to Josh, but Josh is looking at me.

  “Enjoy your bath,” he says. “You’ve earned it.”

  I stand inside the log enclosure, marveling at the reflection of the evening light dancing on the water in front of me. This “bath” is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The man-made pool, which is built to contain the hot water that naturally bubbles up through the bedrock, is the size of a large spa. It’s edged in river rock, surrounded by plants that sprawl wild and green at the water’s edge, before they climb the walls of the wood and stone enclosure, and creep out the “window,” which is an open space that overlooks a pristine meadow. It’s serene, and magical, and I look up at the sunset sky through the open roof above, and thank Bri for bringing me here.

  The spring water is hot when I step in, so I sink into it slowly. Steam rises around me, disappearing as it reaches the backdrop of trees that circle the enclosure and reach high into the sunset sky. A breeze moves through the highest branches and creates a soft, faraway hush like a whisper. I slip deeper into the water and close my eyes. I can hear my own breathing. Beneath it is the steady rhythm of my heartbeat, and I sink into that, too, struck by the feeling of calm it brings. Everything in me feels different from when I began. Altered somehow, in a fundamental way, after all these miles I’ve traveled.

  I lie there, weightless in the water, until the first star twinkles above me in the twilight sky, and when I step out of the pool, it’s as someone brave, and strong, and free.

  Someone new entirely.

  Into the Dark

  THE TENT CABIN is empty when I get back, and I twist my wet hair up into a bun, eager to meet everyone in the lodge for dinner. I’m about to step out the door when something on my bed catches my eye.

  When I walk over, I see it’s a small spiral notebook. It’s nothing fancy, but there’s a note on top, written in messy writing I don’t recognize.

  Found this in the hiker box and thought you might want it to write your own hike. —Josh

  I open it up and flip through the blank pages, thinking of what I might write inside, and it makes me smile—Josh makes me smile, the way he somehow knows the exact right thing to say and do. I tuck the notebook in my pack and bound out the door to tell him so.

  When I reach the lodge, I can see the whole crew through the windows, sprawled out on the couches and chairs, heads down, likely checking their phones and texting their families, as we haven’t had service or power since we left Red’s M
eadow, three days ago. My own phone and charger are in my pocket, but I’m not in a hurry to be connected again, especially because I’m sure the only things waiting for me will be calls and texts from my mom, who I still haven’t spoken to since I left, and who I promise myself I’ll call tonight. Later.

  I take the steps two at a time, and when I reach the deck, I stop for a moment and look at the silhouettes of these people who feel like they’ve become my family. Vanessa sits on Jack’s lap on the couch, one arm slung around his shoulders, head tipped back laughing. Josh and Colin sit on the opposite couch talking animatedly, and Beau sits holding his phone, watching something intently. He says something to the rest of the group, motions for them to come over to him, and there’s a moment where they stop what they’re doing and get up slowly. I watch as they gather around where he sits, and he holds the phone out in the middle, so they all can see.

  And then he taps the phone, setting in motion whatever it is he wants to show them.

  For a moment, I’m sure it’s some stupid, funny, Beau-type video or meme that he wants them all to watch. But then I see the way their expressions change. They go from smiling and laughing to serious, with furrowed brows. I flash back to Asher’s recognition of me in front of everyone at the campfire, and my denial, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach as I watch them watch whatever is on the screen Beau is holding.

  I tell myself to stop being paranoid and self-centered. To stop making everything about me. That it’s probably something funny. A dumb meme that’s gone viral. Or maybe something—something big that happened in the world while we were on the trail. But the way they glance at each other, questions on their faces, makes me uneasy.

  Colin pulls out his phone, and Vanessa does too, and with a tap on their screens, each of them finds something they show the others. Their phones are passed around, raising the eyebrows of each person who takes them. Vanessa hands hers to Josh, and he squints at it. “Wow,” I see him say. And still, I hold out hope that they’re not looking at what I think they are. That they haven’t just found me out.