Waiting outside for Teddy, Bernadette slipped her left hand under her shirt and mindlessly touched the landscape of her belly button. She thought about the Chicago winter they left behind, the brutality it had hit them with. The baby that didn’t happen. Teddy’s fidelity. The darkness and the cold and the nights that just turned over onto each other with no day. She wondered if she still loved him the way she thought she did before. She was hungry.
She closed her eyes and felt the warmth on her face — the California kind. It was good in the morning. Teddy came up behind her and put his arms around her waist, rested his head on the crook of her neck. Bernadette kept her eyes closed. Sun filtered through the leaves and lit their faces.
Bernadette exhaled. “How was the breakfast spread?” she asked, digging the bug spray out from her pack. She gestured for Teddy to turn around and sprayed his broad back, his arms splayed out like a taxidermy eagle. She pushed the trigger at a bad angle and cringed. It always felt like nothing when she hit her finger like that. Not that the sensation was negligible — it was uncomfortable — but it was like a revolt of the absent nerves on the tip of her left pointer finger where she nearly burned it off as a kid. She thought her dad would have told her to think this through more before getting into something that she might not be able to get out of. Teddy smiled at her over his shoulder, that troublemaking smile that always made him seem so young.
“I ate five eggs,” he said, seeking her approval. “The orange juice was good too. Fresh like they got the oranges from down street. Would you call this a street? You’re going to be hungry. Why didn’t you come down for breakfast? This is a really long hike.”
“Please. Tell me again how hard this is going to be. I love hearing that before we start,” said Bernadette, spraying herself now. Her face was small and round and she had dark, angular eyes that could switch from amused to accusatory if he said something the wrong way. Teddy thought about the two soft stretches of muscle along her spine. He wanted to lick her whole back. He thought about the bug spray and sunscreen she had on, and wanted to do it anyways. She would have laughed at him but she wouldn’t have stopped him. He loved to embarrass her and make her laugh in that way that showed she was just as strange as he was. It made him feel closer to her, like they were the only people out here. He grinned at her bullheadedness.
“Come on, it’s a long ride,” he said. They climbed into the Nissan Rogue they had rented with Bernadette’s points and took off for the valley where the trailheads started. They rode through the three-thousand-year-old giant sequoias with their prehistoric bark and gaping stances above the wildlife, like strong old men balancing on a crowded CTA bus, through the California black oaks with their yellow-green leaves spackling the sunlight onto their dark ink trunks and the thick groves of Incense-Cedars with their feathery, reddish bark. Johnny Cash played. The trumpets. “Burns, burns, burns,” they sang absentmindedly and watched the billows of smoke bloom into the low clouds in the trees as they passed a sign they couldn’t read explaining the controlled fires sent down the mountain to keep the old trees healthy.
“Deep breaths here are the best,” said Bernadette as they approached a curve nearly six times the elevation of the tallest skyscraper at home. “Stop. Oh my God stop stop stop stop stop.”
Teddy pulled over carefully on the shoulder of the mountain road. Bernadette bounced like a child in the passenger seat. They hopped out onto the gravel. Teddy followed Bernadette to the edge of the cliff. Their silence was exactly accurate for what they saw. Miles and miles of America. Unfenced. Free. The air was soft and strong across their faces. They were so far away. The burnt trees covering the mountainside looked like manmade weapons. A graveyard of morning sides and black mauls and those clubs with spikes once wielded in medieval battlefields stretched before them.
Bernadette felt strange that they were there together, after everything that had happened, sharing the sight of the mountains that waved gently across the valley and the brilliant, open sky and the miles and miles of green where the burn ended. She was ashamed of her weakness. Of how she had almost let things fall apart when Teddy never did anything but love her in his way. It had all been in her head. She knew she loved him now, she thought. A low, slow sound interrupted her thoughts.
“Do you hear that?” Bernadette said, reaching for Teddy’s arm. His skin was softer than at home. Must be the mountain air. She knew nothing about mountains that she hadn’t learned in an Ansel Adams book. That sounds real, though, she thought. He stood up tall and scanned the area from beneath his White Sox cap.
“No,” he lied. “Let’s go.” They descended the road, surfing the tight curves with caution. The car already smelled like sweat and earth and yesterday’s rotting banana peels but with the windows open, the trees won out and steeped everything in freshness and oxygen.
****
“Bernie, hey, come up here,” Teddy called from up in the trees. Bernadette couldn’t see him but she worked her way up, using roots and steep, slippery stones to ascend the small hill. It’s a lot harder to breathe up here, she thought, taking the air in her nose, her chest rising and heart racing. She wondered how hard it would be to catch her breath when the hike got harder, as Teddy continued to promise it would. Her foot slipped on a rock, loosened by the small spring that had formed as the ice melted in the elevations of the granite rock formation they climbed. They both would have called it a mountain. She knocked her knee in the mud, caught herself on a mossy boulder and kept up the incline, swatting bugs away from her sweaty skin. Her neon Nikes weren’t made for much more than running on cement. She wiped the dirt and pebbles from her palms as she settled next to Teddy.
“Shit, that was hard. Why’d you —”
Teddy hushed her and nodded towards the woods. A doe snacked on wild grass just a few feet from the young couple. Her hide was exactly like the nearest trees, soft and fair, and her eyes — deep dark knots. After staring for several minutes, Bernadette noticed the second deer. There in the trees, Bernadette understood why deer were made exactly the way they were. Her foot cracked a twig and the deer looked up at the humans. The two pairs faced each other.
They weren’t alone. Dogwood floated between them. Teddy felt the sweat cooling his neck and the tips of his fingers tingled. I wonder if she’s scared, he thought. I wonder if she thinks I’ll keep her safe. He looked at Bernadette. She was intrepid. She seemed so light. So far away. He put his hands on her face and neck and turned her towards him. He kissed her the way she said she liked, on the forehead with his chin fitting in her eye like a puzzle piece. He loved the feeling of her lashes in his beard. The sound of the deer tromping away was calming. Teddy pulled his face back a few inches and stared at Bernadette’s new freckles, close to his own. He breathed her in. She turned to look at the deer again. They were gone.
****
Early in the day, Bernadette and Teddy attended a session with a park ranger so they could check a box that qualified them as “bear aware.” One of the key points to preventing an encounter: keep talking. So Teddy talked.
“When I was five or six,” he said as they climbed, “my parents took us to Lincoln Park Zoo. These two baboons were playing, running at each other, running away, hiding, just playing around. We all stood watching them. Natalie was on my dad’s shoulders. She was probably three years old. One of the baboons disappeared and the other one stopped right in front of us by the little stream. He was all sad and confused and looking around like, ‘Oh, hey, where’s my friend?’ And then the other one just barreled out from behind a boulder and launched him into the stream. We were all laughing so hard. So hard that Natalie peed all down my dad’s back.”
Bernadette stopped short. She grabbed for Teddy’s arm but missed. The gesture made him stop laughing at his own story.
“I hear it again.”
“What?”
“That sound. That deep, big sound. Don’t you hear it?”
From the false safety of the trail, they surveyed their surroundings. The sound persisted. The wind picked up and rushed through the trees, the sound converging with the roar from the rivers below them. It was the first time Teddy and Bernadette noticed that, from this elevation, they could see three different waterfalls, smoking down the mountains. Now so quiet, they could hear the falls rush like faraway traffic. They hadn’t seen other people in at least two hours and Teddy tracked their pace to mean they might have to be out there after dark. He didn’t tell her. Tall, iron trees with superb posture pierced the mountain in front of them. Though Teddy and Bernadette were stripped down to their lightest layers, they could see snow-capped peaks across the valley through a gap in the dense grove of green needles and burnt bark. The wind blew even stronger this time and clouds moved in, obscuring their view. The sound was clear and deep. A nearly human moan, like the natural rumble of sound through a throat, yet somehow mutated, violent.
“No,” said Teddy. “No, I don’t hear anything.” And they continued in silence.
A few miles down the trail, when she calmed down enough to feel hungry, Bernadette took a handful of dried blueberries and cashews from Teddy’s backpack.
“Let me get some of those,” said Teddy. She liked feeding him. He was sturdy and strong and she was jealous of the qualities he had that she lacked in herself.
“You should eat more. We have a long way to go.” Teddy looked at the map of the tremendous National Park, not sure where they were on it.
“Teddy, I get it. It’s far.” Bernadette looked out passed him, noticing the change in the light coming through the dense trees.
“You ok? Want to take a break or anything?”
“I’m fine. Stop trying to — ” Bernadette stopped herself, in an effort to refrain from telling Teddy to stop trying to take care of her. She was ashamed to recognize she would need him to, because she had no clue where they were or where they were going. What she didn’t know was that he didn’t either. “Well, up there. That looks like a good spot to stop for a minute. I can’t believe we’re still going up. It seems like we should be going down by now.”
Teddy climbed ahead.
“Holy shit,” she heard him say from beyond the ridge.
As Bernadette caught up, she learned what he meant. The warmth of the sun on her face again after so many miles of cover sent a chill through her body. The setting sun licked the mountains in gold. The magnitude, the stone, the three thousand year old trees, the mountain lions, the grizzlies, the grouses, the deer, the waterfalls, the rivers, the clouds, the controlled burns — gold. Completely gold.
“It’s heaven,” Bernadette whispered. The wind blew and the clouds lollygagged across the great big sky and what they saw was new and different than just a moment ago.
Bernadette turned to Teddy with tears in her eyes. He didn’t ask what was wrong because he thought he knew. He thought the tears showed that she had realized what the next few hours would be. How they might not find the short-cut on the John Muir trail, how they might accidentally pick up the Mist Trail and be forced to scale down the Falls they had admired earlier, how they might not make it out before the busses stopped at ten o’clock. He was certain that, staring out at the golden-lipped mouth of America, she had to be thinking that they might not make it out. He was petrified.
He was wrong. Bernadette was hot with shame. This would be the place, the moment in all our vulnerability to each other and to everything in front of us. If he doesn’t want to marry me now, he may never, she thought. She wanted to vomit. She bent over at the waist and took a deep breath. She resented him for his limitations and resented herself for feeling this way. She needed him and that was terrifying. What was between them was no longer in their control. And it would only get worse as it got darker. The hot orange sun seared the tops of the snow-capped mountains across the valley. The gold glowed warmer and Bernadette shivered, though it was not yet cold. Teddy held her with both arms and she felt so heavy, so present and they watched the fading light wash across the mountains and the valley and the stone, the trees, the cats, the bears, the birds, the deer, the water.
“Can I have some water?” said Bernadette, fortifying her tear-streaked face with a deep breath.
Teddy removed the water bottle from his backpack. Earlier, he had told her that he liked being her Beast of Burden and they had laughed, hearing the song in their heads. It wasn’t funny now. She took a big drink because she needed it.
“Thanks,” she said, offering him the water. They drank the water in silence and continued walking. I can’t believe we’re going to be out here in the dark, Bernadette thought. I can’t believe I got us into this situation, Teddy thought. I have to be brave enough to not make him feel bad, she thought. I have to get her back, he thought. I have to keep her calm. Fuck, they thought, and they kept going.
Bernadette stopped short. She grabbed at Teddy’s arm again. She scolded herself for it.
“Bernie, I know. I hear it. Just keep going. Everything will be ok.”
“Ok? But it’s fucking louder this time,” she said, deliberately even quieter than she normally spoke, and with venom. The fear hugged them in. It kept them focused. It kept them on the path, moving.
The light began to fade. The gold dissipated and gave way to a soft lavender. Teddy paused. Bernadette took the cue and waited several yards behind him, scanning the area. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, she thought. I can’t believe this is the real world. The same world. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe we thought we could do this so casually. Fuck. I can’t let him feel like this is his fault. I just followed him without any questions. I am smarter than that. She channeled her shame into courage for him. She surprised herself. Did it matter? she wondered.
Bernadette walked quietly up to Teddy, put her head in the crook of his neck, wrapped her arms around him for just a moment.
“Thank you. Let’s keep going,” she said.
He recognized a sweetness in her voice. She put her hand on his back and led him in the failing light for what seemed like a mile. He returned to the lead as they approached the Falls. They said nothing as they climbed down the long, flat stones, wet from the mist of the rushing waters. These stones would make a nice patio, Bernadette thought. Gray stone for miles. The light continued to soften. Less lavender as they descended, more gray. These stones are like caves, Bernadette thought. Like condos for lions at the zoo. She looked around, the full view, the view everyone came for. All the air escaped her lungs and panic seized her body. She had to stop but she couldn’t stop. So they continued to climb down through the wet rocks, both thinking about how it looked like a great home for mountain lions.
As they reached the foot of the Falls, the light abandoned them completely. Teddy popped on the tiny flashlight. The fear Bernadette felt when she realized they would be out there in the dark seemed like a joke now. That was nothing. This was it. They could only focus on the step immediately in front of them, the glowing circumference of two feet of pooling yellow flashlight that they had purchased for $15 before tax at the lodge shop that morning. I have to keep her calm, Teddy thought. I have to keep us on this path. How is this the path? This has to be the path. Fuck. The river ripping past them just beyond the rocks and the blank darkness kept them alert. The sound was soothing and familiar, like falling asleep to the trucks and minivans and the #49 bus whirring by on Western Avenue, safe and cool in their comfortable apartment. Teddy imagined Bernadette slipping. In his mind, one wet rock came loose and was gone in an instant. Smack. One sound as she slipped into the almighty river.
“Slow down please, Teddy. Please,” said Bernadette.
He apologized and stopped carefully on the rocky incline. He felt for her elbows to hold her still for just a minute and evaluate her calmness. The pause in forward motion let the adrenaline catch up with them. She started to breathe rapidly. Her arms felt different in Teddy’s hands, more tense. Teddy imagined himself falling. In his mind, he was overambitious. He tried to ascend two flat rocks at once but they were wet. He slipped. He smacked his head and tumbled back, knocking Bernadette over and he would have kept falling but his leg was caught in between the root of a tree and a rock. His leg twisted and broke like the tree root. The fall knocked him unconscious and left her alone and damaged. He would not leave her. And there it was again. That deep, sad moan. The loudest it had been. There was just enough light from their flashlight to notice the change in one another’s faces.
“Let me go ahead and see what it is,” Teddy said.
“Absolutely not. No. No.”
He looked into her eyes and nodded, holding tight to her clammy hand. They both breathed deeply, quietly and continued along the path. Teddy tossed the ray of his flashlight on the immediate distance in front of them. He swore to himself that he saw movement.
“Please don’t do that. Please don’t dart the light around like that. Please, Teddy. It makes me think too much,” said Bernadette.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said. What was it? He thought. Something alive. Something fast. He could hear only the river. The moan had stopped. He slowed to make sure they were on the path still. Footprints. Shoe prints. He chose to be confident. The angle of the stones they were climbing down made his knees ache. He had sweat so much that salt caked his skin. It was getting cold. He stopped to listen. It’s back. It’s getting louder, he thought. It’s getting louder, Bernadette thought. What are we doing here? Bernadette thought. How did we get here? We like brunch. What are we doing in the wilderness? Her mind wandered and she slipped. Fuck. She grabbed Teddy’s backpack and he balanced them both still. She was furious with herself. Her eyes burned. Teddy held her still. I don’t know if I could do this with anyone else, or without her, he thought. They didn’t make a noise. The sound got louder, deeper.
Bernadette looked around. The trees seemed to reach and grab and mutate. It was suffocating. The terror of looking around and wondering was quickly replaced with the terror of looking up at the sky. The silhouettes of the trees and the mountains, certain and unmoving gentlemen, enormous, all pushed up against the sky. The stars were the closest to the wild any light could be. The stars were holes in the great big silken sky, a hot, burning hope on the other side of the darkness. They deserve fireworks, Bernadette thought. Or maybe that wouldn’t be fair to the fireworks. They could never live up to the stars. Brilliance. That’s what brilliance means, she thought.
“Teddy, look up,” said Bernadette. She watched his eyes turn to the sky.
He pulled her closer, turned off his flashlight and they stood, alone out there. He said nothing and that reminded her where they were.
“No. No let’s keep going. Do you hear it anymore?” she asked.
Still looking up, Teddy breathed in and shook his head no. He lied. He heard it. Softer but no less deep. He took her hand and aimed his flashlight ahead. His forearm was sore from holding her hand so tight for so many hours, so many miles. At this point, they must have hiked 12 miles since the sun went down. We’ve got to be close, he thought. He tossed the ray of his flashlight on the immediate distance in front of them again and caught something.
There they were. The two deer stared at them. The light reflected back off the shine of their wet eyes. One deer tilted its head far to the right, as if rotating on a perfect axis anchored in its big black velvet nose. And then it moaned. That sound. Loud and deep, over and over and over. Bernadette squeezed his hand harder. The two pairs stood staring. They were not alone. Colossal mosquitos and other wild insects crossed the ray of the flashlight, making the air glitter. Teddy let the flashlight fall absentmindedly, illuminating a small circumference of earth and a beautiful wretched gnarled root. He lifted it back up to the deer and they were gone.
Bernadette laughed in the darkness. She laughed and laughed until her stomach hurt and everything kind of hurt but all the air from all the laughing was good. Teddy scanned the area with the flashlight and realized they had lost the path. They laughed together and breathed deeply in the wilderness.