Range of Light (17 page)

Enough. I stuffed the journal under my sleeping bag, still feeling oddly drugged. Maybe Adele was right about chocolate. Maybe I needed a serious jolt of sugar. Or a shower. I would splurge and buy myself a shower at the Glen Aulin High Sierra Camp. I never did this kind of thing when I was alone. Was Adele turning me soft? Civilizing me? Well, a shower would make me smell fresher, lift my mood and altogether make me a better companion.

I could hear the laughter,
Adele's high-pitched peal. His deeper rumble. I concentrated on the chili—although there wasn't much to think about, just stirring and making sure the fire didn't get too hot.

“Mmmm. Smells good.”

His voice. I didn't look up. The shower hadn't improved my mood enough.

“Perfect timing.” Adele's light, ringing voice. “You really do have supper on the table!”

I rose, overcome with happiness at seeing Adele. “It does smell pretty good.”

Sandy played nervously with his lens cap, as if waiting to be dismissed. What was with this guy?

“Good hike?” I asked with grudging civility. “Perfect weather for it.” There, that was better. He was just a guy, a harmless guy.

“Great!” declared Adele. “I'll tell you about it over dinner. But first, I need to conjure myself a ladies' room.”

She darted into the brush, leaving us to make small talk.

“Well,” he said finally, “I better get back and start my meal.”

“Sorry we've only got enough for two,” I said, not exactly lying because I had dumped the excess chili in case Adele was overcome with a severe case of hospitality. So much for the remorse about my coldness. I hoped I'd kept enough food for Adele and me. I was famished now, after the shower, with the sunset approaching.

“No problem.” Sandy beamed at my cordial overture, filling me with guilt.

Adele appeared, listening with a smile.

“I brought too much grub myself and don't want to carry it down, at least on my back.” He massaged his trim stomach. Then that shy, eager look in his eyes. “In fact, I have extra hot chocolate if you two care to come over for a nightcap.”

I could feel Adele waiting. I smiled back in a way I hope reminded her how I put a hex on one of her high school boyfriends and how the poor guy fractured his elbow before the homecoming game.

“Thanks,” Adele said, “but I'm pretty wiped out. Think I'll crash early. I don't usually get this much exercise in one day.”

“So be it.” He tipped his hat. “
Bon app
étit
.”
After a few steps, he turned to Adele. “Sweet dreams.”

“Vice versa,” she called.

I kept busy stirring the chili. The damn stuff had started to stick while we were chatting.

Adele watched Sandy tramp out of sight.

“Brrr.” She shook her shoulders. “Guess I'm catching the evening chill. We've been walking so fast, so as not to be late for the feast, that I didn't even notice.” She ducked inside the tent for her sweatshirt.

“Hey.” Her most lighthearted voice. “Dinner smells terrific. Remember I'm doing tomorrow night.”

“Yeah.” I nodded, pulling out the plates.

Adele placed her arm over my tight shoulder. “You doing OK?”

“Fine.” I felt myself soften. I stood there letting Adele hold on to me, stiffening against my own desire for closeness, telling myself that it would be all right, that by the end of the week we would find comfortable proximity. “How was the hike?”

Stepping apart, I inhaled the spicy scent of beans. Adele closed her eyes to savor the smell and blew on her first hot spoonful.

“I prefer Le Conte Falls to Waterwheel Falls, myself,” I said. “Less spectacular, but I don't know, prettier somehow.”

“More discreet,” murmured Adele. “I know what you mean.”

“But Waterwheel
is
steep, exciting,” I halfway conceded, “particularly in the early season.”

“That's what Sandy said.” Adele took another tentative bite of the rich chili.

“You liked him?” I attempted lightheartedness.

“Sure, he was a real kick. He knew all the trees by name.”

“I guess that's what ‘ecologists' do.”

“You say
ecologist
as if you're saying
proctologist
.”
She laughed.

I smirked.

“But the strangest coincidence.”

“Oh, yeah?” I was gobbling the chili while it still steamed. I should have used more pepper, but Adele seemed to like it.

“Yes, he went to grad school at Yale. At the same time Lou did. We even had a couple of mutual friends: Morton Carter, who's doing environmental law in New York and who used to give the greatest charades parties with his roommates—”

“I was never very good at charades,” I said.

“And Marjorie Rogers—this funny woman in linguistics. And, oh, yeah, Pokie Eagelson, who quit poli sci and became a lobbyist in Washington. You know, I thought Sandy looked familiar. We decided we must have met each other.”

“That hat of his—it looks like it's left over from charades.” I knew I should try to control the hostility.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

We fell silent.

I couldn't resist. “Doesn't sound like you had much time to enjoy the scenery.”

“What do you mean?” Adele held her voice even.

“I mean with both of you singing ‘Boola Boola' all the way to Waterwheel Falls and back.”

“Boola Boola!” Adele chuckled. “How do you know that?”

“I'm not illiterate, you know. I mean, a lot of people went to Yale, even the president.” I was annoyed about losing my cool. Adele looked hurt now. I stared at the remains of the fainthearted chili.

She held back the tears in her eyes and ate every last bean.

Remorseful and angry, I finished the meal in silence.

Morning was cold,
but dry.
Normally I would have suggested we stop at the High Sierra Camp for coffee, but I didn't want to run into old Ivy League. I felt too ashamed of yesterday's jealousy.

We packed quickly, efficiently. I concentrated on the familiar routine.

Once we had loaded the packs, I reached out to her. “Good sleep?”

“Like a log.” Adele sounded cheerful. Forgiving. Mature.

I let her take the lead as we set off. Ascending for a good distance now. Up the stone steps toward Tuolumne Falls. I told myself to grow up. So what if Adele had a nice walk to Waterwheel Falls? So what if she enjoyed swapping Yale stories with him? The simple explanation was that I felt envious of part of Adele's life I didn't share. And whose fault was it that I didn't finish college. That I couldn't get up the nerve to go back now?

“Reminds me of climbing the pyramids in Mexico,” Adele said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, Lou is such a masochist, he made us climb all the way to the top of Teotihuacán.”

“That's near Mexico City, isn't it?”

“Yes. Have you been?”

“No, but I've been hoping to get to Chichén Itzá someday. And Uxmal.”

“The Yucatan?” Adele asked, breathless, but reluctant to let down her side of the conversation.

“Yeah. Someday.”

I would apologize to Adele at lunch. My jealousy of Sandy was childish. I really didn't know what had gotten into me.

Tuolumne Falls looked even more
refreshing
today after our long climb. Maybe the two of us could talk here. Reflexively, we both headed over the bridge, for the spot where we had eaten lunch yesterday. The temperature had gained twenty degrees since morning. I pulled off my sweatshirt and lay down on the warm granite slab with my eyes closed, listening to water cascading over the rocks.

Adele sat with her knees against her chest, inhaling the fresh California air. “You know, it's interesting how often joy is poised against sadness …” She trailed off.

A couple of minutes later she continued pensively. “How my pleasure at being here is balanced on my plan to leave. To leave the Sierra in three days and to leave the state in eight days. Still, I am appreciating the time here, this sky, these scents, these noises. Yes, I am here. Now. With you.”

I could feel my cheeks burn and was glad Adele was staring out at the water. I closed my eyes, soaking up the sun.

Abruptly, she began to dig into the pack for lunch.

“Hey, let me help with that.” I blinked widely and pulled myself up to my elbows.

“No way,” as my sons would say. “You concocted the chili last night.”

“Concocted?” I blushed deeply. “You know, after we went to bed I remembered that episode at Cafe Luisa years ago. How you couldn't take the chili peppers.” Anita would say my recipe was passive aggressive. But honestly, I'd just forgotten.

Adele grinned. “Let's say my stomach has become less provincial over the years.”

I patted her shoulder. “Listen, there's something I want to say—”

“No, first, I need to apologize.”

“—to apologize.” I said at the same time.

We broke into giggles.

I recovered first. “No, I was petty about your hike. After all, I was too tired to go to Waterwheel Falls. Why shouldn't you have gone?”

“No,” she said, still laughing. “
Mea culpa.
I broke feminist law number one. Don't let a man stand between you and your sister.”

I shrugged to hide my gratification and stared out at the bridge, built in two segments to allow a tree to grow in the middle. Beneath the wooden slats water splurted, gurgled and roared into the cascading river.

“I mean, we're having a fine time on our own. I should've spent the afternoon reading. I shouldn't have left you alone in camp.”

“I was absolutely fine.” Surprised that I was still irritated, I tried to keep my voice neutral. “Perfectly safe.”

“Of course you were safe. It's a question of camaraderie, of honoring our time together.”

I stared at the rapids again, eyes stinging.

“Anyway”—Adele handed me lunch—“he won't be part of our scene anymore. He was headed out to May Lake this morning. Opposite direction.”

“From the looks of his campsite, he cleared out early.”

Adele said nothing.

“You like him, don't you?” I asked.

She nibbled a stray bit of cheese.

I took a sharp breath. “At least
he
seemed smitten with you.”

“Yeah.” Adele reddened. “It's hard to admit, but I
was
flattered. You know, he's bright, successful”—she paused—“a mature man you could talk ideas with and not just careers.”

“Troubles with Lou?”

“No, not troubles exactly. I mean, we don't fight. He loves me. He's a good, attentive father …” She looked away.

“Is there something else?” I asked gently.

“Oh, well, he did have an affair a year ago. But I don't think that will happen again. Given the example of my own father, of course, you never know. But Lou is terrified of—almost phobic about—AIDS. So I believe he's faithful—in the sense that he doesn't have a lover.”

“But in another sense?”

“Well, yes, you know how in some cultures the middle-aged man's mistress moves into the domestic scene? Well, I feel that's happened.”

“A mistress?” I wasn't following. Or had Adele gone off the deep end?

“Well, his academic reputation has become like a mistress. Something that's seamlessly accommodated in the marriage. I swear he has an almost sexual rush when he's invited to give a paper or contribute an article. He gets up at 7:00 on Saturday morning and goes to his desk. I haven't had to take my diaphragm out of the box for months.”

“That sounds tough.” What else could I say?

“And the truth is, I have a mistress hovering around the house too.”

“Pardon?” My heart pumped rapidly.

“I was offered a job,” she began with hesitation.

I nodded for her to continue.

“At Berkeley.” She watched me closely. “And, it's, well, very tempting”

“I'm sure every relationship goes through changes,” I heard myself saying. How did I know this? All I could think of was having Adele back home.

Her eyes were quizzical.

“I mean, what are you thinking about doing?”

“Doing?” Adele threw her head back. “Most people, well, many people, would die to be in my position: healthy kids, stable husband—yes, I know I overdo the gratitude sometimes, but he is stable—secure job, career satisfaction.”

“That sounds like a sociological profile, not a personal appraisal. Isn't the point life satisfaction?”

“Who has that—really?”

“The question is—do you?”

“Oh, I don't know. I wish I hadn't met that silly Sandy. I mean, all these niggling discontents don't add up to much worth worrying about. He made me feel that I was a little, I don't know, a little …”

“Lonely?”

Adele nodded tightly, sucking in her lips.

I scooted closer and put my arms around her. She sniffed, inhaled deeply, began to sob.

“Lonely,” she managed. “Ridiculous when I have so many people in my life, when I'm so lucky.”

I held my friend until she quieted down.

The walk back to Tuolumne
was much easier than yesterday's hike. The afternoon was drier, our packs lighter. My body relaxed. Maybe I was
finally
acclimating to the mountains. It was fun to share this place again.

I wished I knew how to advise Adele about Lou. But it was hard to sound objective, let alone
be
objective, since Lou and I had never gotten along. I'd tried to like him all those years ago but didn't have the strength of character to carry it off. You were supposed to be happy when your best friend found “Mr. Right.” And he was, by most standards, a great catch—smart, nice looking, decent sense of humor. But there was, well, something lacking—in the kindness category for instance. Nancy and I had gossiped for an hour after the engagement party. He was a crashing bore.