The Art of Holding On and Letting Go (32 page)

It's funny how emptiness can make you feel so heavy. That night, my body felt heavy with the weight of loss, and I drifted to sleep. Sometime in the night, I woke up to see Kaitlyn slipping out of our tent. I heard her whispering and giggling with Nick. I knew I'd be happy for her tomorrow, but I was too full of that leaden weight to feel anything.

In the morning, Kaitlyn snored softly next to me, and I wondered if I had only dreamed her midnight rendezvous. I stretched my arms above my sleeping bag, the chilly air prickling my skin. The sun beat down on the top of the tent, urging me to rise. Kaitlyn stirred, murmured, and rolled over, only the crown of her head peeking out of the sleeping bag. I left her sleeping and crept out of the tent.

Grandma and Grandpa were already up, boiling water for tea. We sat around the picnic table, just like we were at home in the kitchen. I cupped my hands around the warm mug and let the steam drift into my face.

“What's your plan for the day, Carabou?” Grandpa asked.

“It's time to climb.”

“We're going to go back to the cabin,” Grandpa said.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Grandma wants some more morels for dinner, and I thought I'd poke around a bit more. See what can be repaired and what needs to be rebuilt.”

I smiled. “That would be great. I can go back with you and help.”

“Not now, it'll be a project for another time. You go on and climb today.”

I scrambled atop a large boulder at the edge of the campground; twin rocky peaks in the distance, crags and canyons, and a series of dusty hills and gentle slopes to hike through and around in order to get there. The mountain landscape was like a poem, full of depth and rhythm.

Kaitlyn stood next to me. “Where are we going?”

I pointed and said, “See that speck of red on the rock over there?”

“Way out there? What is that?”

“That's a climber. That's where we're going.”

“All that way? How long will it take to get there?”

“Maybe forty-five minutes, an hour. Don't worry, we'll go slow.”

We divided up the climbing gear, trail mix, and water bottles, hoisted our packs, and headed for the trails. Soon, the well-marked sandy path dwindled, and we hiked along rocky ground.

“This is not a trail,” Nick said. “How do you know where you're going?”

“I know,” I said.

We headed down a steep slope, slippery with gravel. I knew how to keep my balance, and trotted down the hill, allowing my feet to slide with the gravel when necessary. Nick slipped and slid a few feet, cursing as he went down. Kaitlyn cautiously took miniscule steps, inching her way.

“You're filthy,” she said to Nick, brushing off his backpack.

“Look at yourself,” he said.

“Sorry,” I said. “Should have warned you, not the best place to be wearing all black.”

Nick glared and held up his hand. “I already scraped my hand and we haven't even started climbing yet.”

“I brought Band-Aids and tape.”

We paused for a water break when we reached the uphill part of the trek.

“Are you shittin' me?” Nick said.

“We climbed all that way down just so we could go up again?” Kaitlyn said.

“That's the only way to get there,” I said.

“Buns of steel, baby.” Nick swatted Kaitlyn's butt.

Kaitlyn headed uphill, pumping her arms. “This better be worth it, Cara.”

“It's mostly flat after this.”

“Mostly flat, my ass,” Kaitlyn said as she scrambled over a boulder.

I grinned. “Sorry, forgot about this part.”

We finally reached the climbing wall and dumped our gear on the ground. Kaitlyn and Nick collapsed. Nick's usually spiky hair drooped in clumps over his sweaty forehead. Fortunately, Kaitlyn hadn't worn any of her smoky eye makeup. Come to think of it, she hadn't put any on since we left Detroit. Her face was flushed pink.

“I need a nap,” she said.

“I need a transfusion,” Nick said.

I rolled my eyes and got to work sorting out our climbing gear. The wall was bolted so I only needed a sling with quickdraws. We were the only group of climbers there, and the quiet of the canyon calmed my mind. This was one of my favorite climbing spots with my parents and Uncle Max. We put up the routes last spring, the cliff lit with sun in the mornings. I loved to feel the warmth of the rocks against my fingertips, as if the sun was shining not just
on
me, but
within
me.

I ran my hands over the base of a route. My fingers remembered the curves and divots in the stone, the pebbly knobs, the sharp edges of a flake. John Muir wrote about currents of life that flow through the pores of the rock. It made me shiver.

“Don't laugh, but this route is named Cara's Conquest,” I said.

Of course, Nick snorted and laughed, and Kaitlyn shoved him.

“My dad named it. It took me weeks to master it.”

“What's it rated?” Nick asked.

“5.13c.”

Nick whistled.

“Go for it, Cara,” Kaitlyn said.

I tied the rope to my harness while Nick got ready to belay. Kaitlyn settled back to watch, munching on trail mix like popcorn at the theater.

The climb felt like returning home to sleep in your own bed after a long vacation. Every reach was natural, smooth. I felt strong, confident. It was a workout, but it didn't test me. It suited my old climbing style. The new climber in me wanted to be pushed, challenged, to use every ounce of strength in me. I needed to be consumed by the climb.

In the gym, I was restricted to the routes that someone else had created. Outside, on real rock, I chose my own path. I reached the top and climbed back down, rather than being lowered. Memories were threatening to burst through, I needed to focus on the climb. I didn't want to think about anything else.

I reached the ground and looked up to find Nick studying me.

“What?”

“What the hell was that?” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“That's not how you climb in the gym.”

“What was wrong with it?”

“Nothing was wrong with it. You pranced up there like it was a 5.6, and it's been almost a year since you've even climbed on real rock.”

“Yeah, Cara, you rock!” Kaitlyn said.

I smiled and shrugged, proud but embarrassed. I had changed.

But it wasn't my gym training that did it. It was life. Life and death, and learning where you belong.

And now it was Kaitlyn's turn. “I'm going to set up a top-rope for you over there.” I pointed to a shorter wall, full of cracks and nooks and crannies. Plenty of spots for Kaitlyn to find the right fit for
both
of her hands.

“I knew you were going to make me do this,” she said.

“I'm not making you do anything.” I pulled my extra pair of climbing shoes out of my backpack for her.

She wrinkled up her nose. “Keep those foul things away from me.” She reached into her own pack and pulled out a new pair of purple climbing shoes, the black rubber soles clean and shiny. “I brought my own.”

I could not have grinned any wider. I grabbed one of her shoes and rubbed it against the rock wall. “Gotta break these things in.”

Nick tied a figure eight into the rope for Kaitlyn while she tugged on her shoes. He handed her the rope and kissed her on the top of her head. “I'll belay for you.”

We returned to the campground, dust ground into our clothes and the pores of our skin, our legs and feet achy and tired. Grandpa cooked chicken on the grill. I salivated like a dog at the first whiff of barbecue sauce.

“How'd you do?” he asked.

“Great,” I said, leaning over the grill and inhaling the tangy scent. “How'd you do?”

“I don't know how to explain it, but even with all the damage, there's still a feeling of life around there.”

“I know, I felt it too. You think we can fix up the cabin?”

“I do. It'll be quite a job though, and we'll have to talk to your parents about it.”

I nodded. I didn't know when my parents were coming back, but surely they wouldn't object to Grandpa and me working on the cabin.

“Maybe we could come back this summer,” I said.

“I'd be up for that,” he said.

“Is the new cairn still standing?” I asked.

“Sure is. It sounds strange to say it, but standing near those stones, you almost feel like they're alive. The way they balance and hold together, they're not just stones anymore.”

“There's an energy there.”

“An energy, yes, something like that.”

Grandpa let out a great big breath and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, giving me a tight squeeze. He released me and said, “One more day here in the mountains, then we head to the ocean. What would you like to do tomorrow?”

“Just climb some more,” I said.

“Are you sure? Nowhere else you want to go, or anyone else you want to see?”

“Everyone I want to see is right here.”

He smiled and squeezed my shoulder once more. “Go tell Grandma the chicken is almost done, okay?”

In honor of Uncle Max, I cooked his special-recipe baked beans, sweet and smoky. Grandma sautéed the baby morels in butter. We played cards until the darkness surrounded us, then Grandma and Grandpa went to bed in the RV. Moths spun around our lantern; the fire risk was too high for a campfire. Kaitlyn's face glowed with warmth. She hadn't worn any makeup all day.

“So, what does it mean really, to be goth?” I asked them.

Nick recited: “Goth unashamedly celebrates the dark recesses of the human psyche.”

“I don't get it.”

“Life is dark, but we're trying to find the beauty in that, you know?”

“I don't know. I like light and nature and climbing. That's all about living.”

Kaitlyn smiled at me. We didn't need words. We understood.

“I'm hungry,” Nick said. “Any leftovers?”

“Leftovers? You had two pieces of chicken, those fancy mushrooms, and three helpings of the special beans,” Kaitlyn said.

“Good thing he has a tent all to himself,” I said.

“I'll be right back,” Nick said. He grabbed a flashlight and left the circle of lantern light.

I gazed up at the nighttime sky, the shadows of the forest like questions in the dark. Would daylight reveal the answers? The brightness of the stars took my breath away.

When Nick returned, he kept to the edge of the lantern light. “So you never saw anyone light a fart on fire, huh?”

The next thing I knew, the lighter flared, and a fireball pfooofed through the air.

Kaitlyn and I shrieked, and Nick collapsed on the ground in hysterics.

“Oh my god, did he just—?”

Kaitlyn groaned with disgust. “You did not just do that!”

“You are sick!”

“That's so gross!”

One of Uncle Max's jokes popped into my head. “You want some mustard with that?” I squeaked out the words before doubling over.

Kaitlyn groaned. And I was pretty sure I heard a chuckle coming from inside the RV.

Kaitlyn and I climbed in our sleeping bags after midnight. Through the mesh roof of our tent, the stars and moon gave us a celestial show.

“I'm going to be so sore tomorrow,” Kaitlyn grumbled, squirming around in her sleeping bag.

“Yeah, maybe. You should have stretched before bed.”

“Now you tell me.”

“We'll stretch in the morning.”

“You okay?” Kaitlyn asked.

“Yep, you?”

“I saw your big box of books and stuff in the RV. Are you really thinking of staying here?”

“I don't know. I thought maybe I could stay with my parents' friend Susan. Her daughter is away at college now. But it wouldn't be the same as being home at the cabin with my parents.”

The sky looked so vibrant and alive compared to the low haze in Detroit. Everything was clearer out here. I hadn't worked out all the pieces yet, but I could feel the unraveling going on inside me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nah. It just feels good to be here. Especially having you here with me.”

“Anytime.” She rolled onto her shoulder and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Carabou. Indiana She-Jones.”

I smiled in the dark and kissed the air. “Night night.”

A minute later, she whispered, “I can't believe I
like
him.”

“So he's not gay, huh?”

“Oh no.”

“Did you tell him about Eric?”

She nodded. “I told him. He took my hand,
that hand
, and kissed me. And he didn't let go.”

Tears flooded my eyes.

“Don't you start crying now,” she half-laughed, half-cried.

“I can't help it.”

“It's probably a good thing we did all that hiking. It helped him blow off some steam. If I'd told him at home, he might have done something stupid, like drive up to East Lansing.”

“Yeah, he blew off some steam, all right,” I said.

“Oh disgusting, please, don't remind me.”

“It's just guys. My dad and Uncle Max used to make songs out of armpit farts.”

“My brother taught me how to do that!”

After a pause, Kaitlyn said, “I'm not sure I know how to be Nick's girlfriend. To be anyone's girlfriend.”

“I think you're doing pretty good already.”

Kaitlyn propped her head in her palm. The moonlight shone on her hair, turning it silvery purple.

A sly smile spread across her face. “Do you miss Tom?”

“I've been trying not to think about him. But I can't help it.”

“You're in love!” she whispered and flopped back on her pillow.

“No, you are!” I whispered back.

Kaitlyn curled up on her opposite side to sleep, but I stayed on my back looking up at the night sky, the twinkling stars. I sent my love and wishes out into the vast universe.
Que sueñes con los angelitos
.