I like to think of myself as a fairly level-headed person. I don’t burst into tears that often, and I know what to do in case of a fire. I’ll always volunteer to be in the exit row on a plane, and I know how to treat a nosebleed. But I guess I am not the best companion during a real crisis. It’s this head of mine. It just keeps on spinning. How were they going to get us out of there? Would they take us out by air lift or would we have to swing from a rope like Tarzan or what? I didn’t know how to climb down a rope. I mean, we did that in gym class once but I never got the hang of it and then our teacher, Mr. Stern, was sick the next day so we just watched movies on schoolyard safety. Oh, I hoped they didn’t give us a rope. Or maybe a giant net? Could they do that? Did we sign waivers or something?
And then my mouth started flapping.
“I mean, does this happen a lot? Do they know what they’re doing? What if it doesn’t get unstuck? Do they have a plan of some sort?”
I knew Kathy didn’t have any of these answers, but I couldn’t help myself. And now we were slowly rocking back and forth, somewhere in midair.
“Hey, Sam! Kathy! You all right?”
Dad’s voice came from somewhere behind us. I forgot that we were all caught up here, hanging by that tiny wire.
“Yeah!” we called back in unison, and then we both laughed a little. It actually felt good to laugh.
“Don’t worry! The guy behind us says this happens a lot! It’ll get cleared up soon!”
I closed my eyes and tried to focus my breath. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3. In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3.
Then I felt Kathy touch my knee. I opened my eyes.
“It’s gonna be okay, Sam,” she said.
“Yeah, I know,” I said.
“I mean … with us.” She looked me right in the eye now. Her gaze was steady and calm.
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say.
“I mean, we both have a lot to learn about each other. I’m scared, too, you know. I never expected — did you ever hear how your dad and I met?”
“No.”
I had never even asked. I had been too busy being mad. That first phone call when he told me he’d started seeing someone and he thought — he hoped — I would like her. I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom, and I remember hanging up on him so I could cry.
“Do you want to know?” she asked gently, watching my face, which I know was lost in thought.
“Yes. Yes,” I said. And I meant it.
“Well, let me first say this. I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone fourteen years older than me — with two kids and a mortgage and a tan sedan. No offense, but that’s just not how I had imagined it.” She laughed. She was really pretty, especially when she laughed. And then she stopped herself. “Are you sure it’s okay that I’m telling you this?” she asked.
I nodded again. “Please,” I said.
“Okay, well, the first thing that happened was he took my parking spot outside the travel agency. I always parked in the same spot, right on the corner of Degraw and Lafayette. And one day, I was running late to work, as usual, and your father cut me off. Oooh, I was so mad! I rolled down my window and I was screaming all sorts of names at him. It was not pretty.”
She giggled and rolled her dark eyes. I thought of the way I had snapped at Eric that first night outside on the steps.
“And your father, gentle soul that he is, pulled out after me, followed me around the corner and all the way down the hill, where I finally found a parking spot. I didn’t notice that he was behind me, of course, until I got out of the car and there he was. I was in such a rush, I remember, I slammed my bag in the car door. I was cursing like a sailor. And then when I saw him standing there, wow, I really laid into him. ‘I park there every day!’ and ‘Don’t you have any common courtesy?’ And I remember I ended it by saying, ‘And now it looks like you’re following me!’ And then, he waited for me to finish, with those beautiful, patient eyes, and he looked at me and said, ‘You are absolutely right. I am following you. Because you were right, and I was wrong. And I’d like the chance to make it up to you.’”
“Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty — wow.” The thought of my dad being Mr. Romance was kind of funny. But sweet.
“Yeah.” She grinned. “And still I wasn’t having it. He handed me a slip of paper, and I took it and walked off in such a huff. Ha! But later that day, I remember sitting at my desk with that slip of paper he had given me. Just his name and number. And then underneath he had written, ‘I’ve never tried this before.’ And I thought, ‘What just happened to me?’ There was something so honest, so unafraid about that note and those eyes. I felt sick, and excited, and confused, and like my heart was up in my ears.”
Sick, and excited, and confused. It was all sounding so familiar.
“Okay, I’m talking too much, but one more thing. Sam, I was never good at dating. I mean, look. It took me thirty-eight years to find your dad. And I was with some real duds before him, believe me. And then when I did find him, I was so scared! There is nothing scarier than having real feelings for someone. I mean, it can swoop in and lift you off your feet and turn you upside down. Sometimes it leaves you breathless and hopeful, and sometimes it can tear you in two. But you know what? It is always, always worth it. It feels a lot like this, actually. Way up high, almost touching the clouds, suspended. Not knowing what’s going to happen next.” She sighed. “I don’t know. Does that make sense at all?”
“Oh, yes,” I said. It made so much sense I wanted to press her words into my skin. I looked out around us at the mountains, the trees, our feet swaying out in front of us. It was all so unpredictable. I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or cry or howl into the breeze. And then I thought of Eric. I could never have predicted that. That? This? Well, whatever it was. But now I knew it was something.
I had always imagined that liking someone was about something just out of reach. An ache, a longing, like when I had pined for Leo. But maybe the ones who were worth it were the ones who didn’t make you try so hard. They liked you for who you were. And they didn’t really know any more than you. Nobody truly had the answers. It was all about taking the leap, together.
I watched as Kathy leaned her face up into the sun. Her skin looked like melting honey, each of her eyelashes illuminated. She didn’t know what she was doing either. I closed my eyes and tilted my head up, too. And I knew we looked nothing alike, nobody would ever mistake us for mother and daughter, but sitting up there, both of our faces raised to the sun, maybe we could just be friends.
A little while later, I felt another jolt. The chairs started swinging forward and back again.
“Whoa!” Kathy said, grabbing the crossbar so tight her knuckles turned bright white. I did the same. And then, with a low creak and groan from below, we slowly started inching up the mountain. I heard a pitter-patter sound climbing up behind us. Was that rain? Wasn’t it too cold for that?
“Look! Look!” said Kathy, pointing down to the bottom of the lift. It wasn’t rain at all. It was a small gathering of people down below, in all different-colored hats and jackets. And they were waving and clapping for us. We were on our way!
The rest of the day, Dad and Kathy took us through densely wooded trails, each one more beautiful than the next. Cross-country was hard, but in a new, invigorating way. I felt my legs, my arms, my lungs all pumping, pulling, working together. By the time we got done for the day, I was exhausted, and dying to get back to the inn.
Eric was behind the bar in the living room, pouring drinks for happy hour. I didn’t even take off my jacket. I walked right up to the counter while he had his back turned.
“Double shot of amaretto and orange juice, and a splash of rye.”
“Sorry?” He spun around and broke into a big smile. A big, crooked smile.
“Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?” I asked quietly now. “I need to tell you something.”