She turned up her stereo a little louder than usual since her father was on his way to Seattle, and her mother, who still hadn’t come back from taking him to the airport, was who knows where. She sat on her bed, looking out her window into the courtyard and tried to make sense of the previous night while she waited for the phone to ring.
“It never would have happened with Jason. In all the time we spent alone together he never came close to . . . How did it start?” she wondered as she stared at the flowers that were now nearly buried beneath the falling autumn leaves. “Was it when I put my head on his shoulder? No. I’ve done that before and it never . . . maybe it was when he kissed me . . . and then what happened next? I can’t remember. But was it him or me? Was he pushing me back or was I pulling him forward. None of it makes sense now. But why do I feel bad about it? Is it because I’ve never done that with anyone else? But that must be because I’ve never been in love before. I couldn’t have really been in love with Jason. If I had I couldn’t have gone to the dance with Scott. Why did I go with Scott? But I did go with him, and since I did go with Scott it means that I must love him, at least more than Jason. So everything should be okay and there’s no reason at all to feel like I do.”
If Julia had been reading her own thoughts on paper she would have seen straight through her faulty logic. But she was thinking them, and they came in rapid succession, mingled with the music that blanketed her bedroom and the ambient noise from Lewis’s game. It was in that state that she waited until her cell phone rang. It was a small miracle that she could hear the ringing over the noise coming from her speakers, but the anticipation made her hearing sharper. She fumbled to answer it when she saw Scott’s name on the small screen, and, after a short conversation, left Lewis and Tommy by themselves to go meet Scott at a nice steakhouse for a late lunch.
* * *
Peter didn’t take his wife’s unaffectionate embrace at the airport for anything out of the ordinary. He made his way through security and sat in the terminal with Stanly and Sam, and almost everyone else from the office as they waiting to board the plane. His thoughts turned to the backpacking trip afterwards that might help him move up a notch in the esteem of someone he’d never cared about.
* * *
“Look, you would have never made that promise if you had known how things would turn out twenty years later,” Abigail said emphatically.
“Twenty-five years,” Hannah corrected.
“The point is that you can’t really feel bound to that agreement.”
“But I said ‘for better or for worse’ that implies that I understood that worse might come.”
“You’re a lawyer for crying out loud. It shouldn’t be too hard for you to find some kind of justification.”
“I’m a far cry from that kind of lawyer,” Hannah pointed out.
“It’s not like we’re talking about the written contract. All those vows are just a formality. Regardless of whatever loophole you find for yourself—because it’s really only your conscience holding you back, nothing legal, nothing binding—you should start having the papers drawn up now while he’s away. It’ll be easier that way.” Abigail spoke didactically. “Backpacking after the conference, who would have guessed? It’s so odd don’t you think?”
“I suppose you’re right,” Hannah conceded. “You usually are.”
“I’m just trying to help. I know how hard these times can be.” Abigail’s sympathy was borderline patronizing, but Hannah didn’t care.
“I know you are. And I really do appreciate everything you’ve done and all your advice. I don’t know who else I could have turned to,” Hannah admitted, and then added, “I’d better go. I left the boys at the house with Julia. It was really good doing lunch with you.”
“Anytime Hannah,” Abigail said, and both ladies got up from the table.
Chapter 4
“If there’s torture, for instance, then there’s suffering, wounds, bodily pain, and it means that all that distracts you from inner torment.”
-Fydor Dostoevsky
On the Monday following the conference, Peter could feel the cold snow on his cheeks as he methodically put one foot in front of the other. The hood of his jacket encircled his face. The rest of his body was covered in several layers of clothing and around his waist and sternum were straps that held the new backpack to his body. He took one more step and then stopped to look behind him. Stanly was plodding along putting his hands on his knees and pushing them down as if to give his legs an extra boost. Just behind him came Sam. Sam walked slowly and intentionally, showing no signs of fatigue or concern despite his monstrous pack, which had weighed too much for Peter to lift, much less carry.
They’d been hiking through the mountain trail since breakfast and water began to meet in the middle layers of Peter’s clothing as snow melted and worked its way in, and sweat soaked the inner layers. This was the first time he wished they could turn back. It was also the first time he wished they had taken the time to get a backpacking permit, not that a backpacking permit would do them any good at this point, but at least someone would know who he was when they found his frozen body. He pictured how the headline would read: “Three corpses found frozen to death on Windy Gap.” Now that he thought about it he wasn’t surprised in the least that Sam hadn’t bothered going to the ranger’s station to leave a copy of their itinerary, or get permitted. Such an act would have been too sane.
The altitude and the ascent, combined with the fact that he was completely out of shape, made it next to impossible for Peter to breathe, much less speak, so he kept most of his complaints to himself. The silence gave his thoughts the opportunity to drift from his comfortable house in that nice suburb to how cold he felt, and then back to his recliner.
“I liked my life, at least for the most part. I was content. How’d I get suckered into this?” he wondered. He didn’t let himself remember the answer. But it definitely hadn’t been Sam’s speeches.
He’d gotten sick of Sam’s prodding. “Peter, you’ve got to get out and feel like a man sometimes, you’ve got to get out in the wilderness to see what you’re made of. You need a battle, something to struggle with; you’ve got to be able to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’ve got what it takes.”
Peter found that all his reasoning about having a wife and house payments paled in comparison to Sam’s relentless logic, his call to something more dangerous than suburbia. He hated Sam for being calloused and Stanly for dragging him into the predicament. And in all the frustration and hatred he felt completely alone, alone and out of his comfort zone in the middle of that nowhere.
Stanly covered the distance between them and collapsed on the ground. He lay down on his pack like a snow crab that had been turned onto its back. Peter had already taken his pack off and sat on top of it, using it to insulate his pants from the snow. Sam neither sat nor took his pack off, but pulled out a map from a side compartment on his backpack and placed it under the compass that hung around his neck. Peter reached into his backpack and pulled out a water bottle, which he opened and gave to his immobilized companion. While Stanly drank and Sam squinted toward the horizon, Peter crunched numbers. Ten miles on day one and four so far today, with a 2,000-foot ascent, that left twenty-one more miles over the next day and a half, and they were still going up.
After he’d caught his breath, Peter stood up to stretch his legs. For the first time in hours he took notice of his surroundings. The scenery hadn’t changed much. Snow still stretched off into infinity, where it eventually met with the dense clouds to obscure what should have been a horizon. The only exception to the blanketing white was the fir trees that had grown tall enough to peak out of their covering.
Stanly handed the water bottle to Peter and he drank the rest, even though the nearly frozen water pricked his mouth and throat as it worked its way down his esophagus and into his stomach. It was still refreshing.
“No offense or anything, but you know if I were back home
I’d never have drunk after you like that. Out here that kind of stuff doesn’t really seem to matter,” Peter said as he handed the water bottle back to Stanly.
Stanly took the water bottle and put it in a side compartment and nodded to signal his consent.
“How are you guys holding up?” Sam asked as he folded the map and tucked his compass back into his shirt.
“We need to go back.” Peter said, “I don’t think Stanly’s going to be able to make it all the way.”
“I’ll be fine,” Stanly interjected. It was the first time he’d spoken since they had eaten breakfast.
“That’s good because we’re not going back,” Sam said, “We have to hurry to get out of this snow so we can set up camp.”
Sam seemed to like the uncertainty; he liked the cold and the adventure. He enjoyed the fact that none of them knew if they would be able to make it to dry ground to set up camp or if they would freeze to death before they made it through the gap. He didn’t have a family to think about. Fighting his resentment, Peter put his pack back on and helped Stanly, who had never moved from his helpless position, to get back on his feet.
“At least I’ll lose those extra pounds I’ve put on,” Peter told himself as he began walking again.
The three of them continued in silence until they reached a place where their path came alongside a ridgeline. Stanly and Peter relieved themselves of their gear and pressed up against the rock to try and get out of the elements, while Sam took out his backpacking stove so he could begin heating a pot of snow to boil the noodles. Peter marveled at the simplicity of Sam’s equipment.
He’d gone to an outdoors store during the conference and found the best coat, pants, backpack, boots, socks, and even underwear on the market. Sam’s stove was made from the stew can that they had eaten out of the first day. There were holes poked along the top to let oxygen in. The real marvel was the two metal crossbars that rested on top of the can so that the wide pot wouldn’t wobble or fall off. Sam put cotton balls into the bottom of the can and added alcohol before lighting it with a match. He set the pot of water on top of the crossbars and everyone waited.
Peter leaned in, looked over his shoulder, and, noticing that Sam was completely engrossed in the cooking, said to Stanly, “Is this what you had in mind when we left?”
“I was thinking it would be some kind of nature hike,” Stanly admitted. “Are you as wet as I am?”
“I’m soaked through,” Peter confessed.
“Me too, and I went out and got all the best equipment I could get my hands on last weekend.”
Peter looked back over his shoulder then turned back to Stanly. “I don’t think I can do this. I want to be sitting in my recliner watching football in my house; I want a thermostat and a dry roof.”
Stanly blew into his cupped hands and rocked back and forth. With a shiver in his voice he reassured Peter that they would get home safe in the end.
Peter didn’t respond and eventually Sam had water boiling and noodles cooking.
“So how do you like married life?” Stanly asked, breaking the silence.
“It’s okay.” Peter was glad for the small talk; it would keep his mind off the cold.
“That’s good to hear, because that girl over in marketing has had her eye on you and she can be real flirty when she wants to.”
“I thought she was seeing someone else,” Peter said, hoping that Stanly was just making a casual comment.
“No she stopped seeing him a while ago, and then she had several dates with another guy, but she’s back on the prowl again. If you’re not interest you should make sure that you let her see your wedding ring from time to time. You know what I mean?”
Peter didn’t say anything but was flattered by the thought of a much younger and fairly attractive woman being interested in him. He didn’t say anything to Stanly but the thought warmed him a little.
He also didn’t mention that he had suspected that she was attracted to him for a while or that he’d even flirted back that once. But it had only been once and it was the kind of flirting that could be mistaken for simple courtesy. Not that he was interested in her. She did secretarial work for the company, running errands and making deliveries. He’d never be respected or move up in Sam’s esteem if he was caught having an affair with her. But the thought of an affair was liberating, and he toyed with the idea of a different life, one without Hannah. He pushed the thought from his mind. They were stuck in this life together.
Peter looked away from Stanly and responded, “Well everything’s good with me and Hannah. We’re perfectly content, and there hasn’t been any kind of problem or misadventure in our lives in quite some time.”
“That’s what I’m worried about Peter,” Stanly interjected. “Most men have affairs because they’re looking for some excitement. Don’t tell me that you don’t ever feel bored. I mean we work long hours then go back to perfect little homes with our two point three kids and dogs. Is that what you wanted when you were a kid?”
Peter said, “I grew up in a rundown neighborhood outside the city, playing in the back yard in my fort and tire swing. I’ve done pretty well for myself.”
“But is this what you wanted?”
“When I was a kid I wanted to be a fireman, and then I wanted to be a police officer, and then I wanted to be a pirate, and somewhere in between I wanted to be a clown and an astronaut.”
Stanly acknowledged Peter’s response before saying, “For me it was a pilot. I’ve got my pilot’s license you know, but I can’t remember the last time I flew.” Stanly looked up at the sky, but the clouds were still thick, obscuring any view.
“But you know if I had been a police officer or a fireman or a pirate I’d never be able to afford the house I’m living in, I wouldn’t be able to put money back to send the kids to good colleges, and besides, I’d be putting my life in danger every day,” Peter observed. “My life expectancy would be way down if I’d been a pirate. None of those were serious options, just boyish dreams. Could you imagine me as a clown?”
“You’d be a lot funnier,” Stanly said before admitting that he could never see Peter as a clown. The two sat in silence for a few more minutes until Sam brought the noodles over. The three of them ate and talked shop then Sam cleaned up. When everything was repacked and situated they got up and continued walking along the ridgeline.
* * *
At the house Hannah was checking the mail, something that seemed foreign to her despite its simplicity because it was a task that Peter normally performed. She threw out the junk and hurried back to her bedroom where she threw the utility bill on the dresser and fumbled for the letter opener to open the one envelope that caught her eye. With shaking fingers she pulled out the piece of paper and read:
November 2nd
Mom, Dad, and the rest of the family,
Life here is pretty much the same, but I don’t want to think about that. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how different my life would have been if I’d gone to college like you wanted. I figure I’d be skipping class right now or wishing I was skipping class. I’d be about to graduate. I wouldn’t be waking up at the crack of dawn or doing drills. I’d be spending my weekends fishing at the lake or going to catch a baseball game. A lot of nights I lie awake and think about all that stuff.
I wish I wasn’t here. Most nights I wish I were in the States. Some of the guys find comfort in the fact that we’re making a difference. But at the end of the day I can only wonder if it’s really my job to risk my life over here. I keep thinking that if I were in college instead of here everything would be the same except my life would be a lot better. Someone else would be here doing exactly what I’m doing. I try not to think about all this too often, but I can’t help wondering how differently life could have been. I’m starting to realize that we all only get one life and I don’t want to waste mine—not even a second of it. Being over here has really helped me to see how precious every second should be.
I figu
re that you’ll both be happy to know that I’ve decided to go to school when I get back. I’m definitely not reenlisting. I’m thinking about studying politics. Maybe I’ll be able to make sense of everything that’s going on over here. I figure that I’ll probably never change the world but I might as well try to understand it.
Miss you all,
David
Hannah read the letter over three times before switching it out for the utility bill, which she opened and looked over briefly before going to Peter’s desk and writing a check to cover the balance.
* * *
“We need to pick up the pace so we can get out of the snow to set up camp,” Sam urged as the three of them plodded along.
Peter finally spoke up, “We can’t pick up the pace. We need to go back.”
Sam must have been shocked because he didn’t say anything at first but eventually managed to say, “We’re not going back. That’s final.”
Stanly stepped back so that he wasn’t standing between the two of them. Peter turned around and started walking back.
“What kind of a man are you?” Sam jeered, not moving from the path.
“I just can’t do this. I can’t keep going uphill with all this weight,” Peter said fixing his gaze on the snow six inches in front of Sam’s boots.
“Come on you’re a man, of course you can keep going. You can always keep going. Sometimes you just have to dig deep and see what you’re made of,” Sam responded.
Peter’s legs were buckling under the weight of the pack and every muscle in his body burned, but with his head still down, he agreed that he might be able to keep going. He turned back around and was trying to find the strength to lift his leg when Stanly came up behind him and whispered, “If you don’t want to keep going I’m with you. Let’s go back.”
That small affirmation was enough to change Peter’s mind. “Stanly and I are going back,” he said with new resolution, and he turned back around to face Sam. Sam’s icy eyes made Peter regret his sudden boldness. He finally said, “I’m not leading any expedition that wusses out. If you guys want to turn back I’ll go with you so you don’t die, but you’re in charge.” He stood aside and made way for Peter to go back. As Peter walked by, Sam whispered, “You’d better go quick if we’re going to sleep on dry ground tonight.”