I wobble in my boat, but manage to step off onto some rocks and keep my socks dry. I drink deeply from the small creek, which helps. The water is crystal clear and cold. The big river draws me to it, as though it might explain some things to me. My thigh muscles quiver, so do my arms. Walking isn’t as easy as it once was. I reach the bank, but the water doesn’t have much to say. The forest is so high and thick, it’s impossible to get a sense of where I am or how far I’ve traveled downriver.
Alongside the waterway are giant boulders. I reach out a hand, wanting to steady myself, and see a little miracle down by the water’s edge. Mussels. Freshwater mussels. And there are a lot of them. I fish out the knife and get to work on the mollusks.
It is bliss eating the mussels. Not just because they’re food and I desperately need to eat, but because the act of finding them, cracking them open, and swallowing them takes every bit of brain power I have. It’s something to do and it is all consuming. The distraction is as delicious as the protein sliding its way into my belly.
I eat every single mussel I can find. By the end I’m full, even though a week ago it would have been a light meal at best. A rounded rock looks like a good place to sit down and digest. As I look out over the river, last night returns to me. The sight of the stars and the moon, the ability to remember the faces of my family; something healing happened last night. Something corrective.
The paranoid idea that my family would not be looking for me seems ridiculous now, in the light of day. Of course they’re looking for me. Whether or not I’ll ever be found, I don’t know. But the certainty that they’re searching for me rests in my heart.
A physical ache that has nothing to do with my injuries fills me. It’s the bone-deep desire to tell them how much I love them, to tell them I’m alive. This is what I have been protecting myself against, the overwhelming agony of knowing how much they must be hurting. I wish I could tell them it’s okay. I wish I could tell them what I’ve learned. I wish I could tell them how sorry I am.
The idea comes to me that if I pray hard enough, their souls will hear mine. If I’ve learned nothing else out here, I’ve learned that there are mysteries that cannot be accounted for. Had it not been for the hallucination of the redheaded girls, I would never have made it down that cliff, never would have found my boat. So I believe there’s a chance my prayers will be heard.
“Mommy,” I begin. I haven’t used that name since I was five. “Mommy, I want you to know I love you and I’m alive. I want you to know I’m sorry for all the things I’ve ever done. For being mean to the other girls at the farm and for being too hard to deal with. I really didn’t know what I was doing. I really didn’t. But I do now, and if I get a chance to live life again I’ll be different. I swear to God I’ll be different. I’ll be a good daughter. I promise I’ll be good.”
Tears threaten to shut down my throat, but I force myself to keep going.
“Daddy, I love you with all my heart. I know you’re looking for me. Please keep looking. Please go to the mountains. I’m in the mountains, Daddy. I’m alive and I love you and I want to see you more than anything. I will never argue with you again, I promise. I know I used to argue over every little thing, but I really didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I was doing right; I really did. I know better now.”
“Grandpapa and Nana, I’m so sorry. I guess I didn’t fight hard enough. You believed in me, and you always told me I was strong enough to do anything. But I want you to know I’ve tried my best. I’ve given it everything I’ve got. Sometimes that hasn’t been very much. I guess I’m not quite as strong as we thought I was. But I’m not giving up. I’m still alive, and I’m not giving up. Not until I’m dead. I love you, Nana and Grandpapa. You’ve never been anything but good to me, and I love you so much.”
The next person in line sobers me up a little. “Grandma, I know you don’t totally get me. I don’t totally get you, either. But I love you. If I get out of here, things will be better between us. I’ll be open-minded and go shopping with you. I love you, Grandma.”
Finally my mind turns to a face outside my family, and for a while all I can do is cry. “Caleb. I am so, so, so, sorry. I’ve been a coward. I’ve been mean. I’ve been selfish. I have no idea why you love me. I don’t deserve you. I never have. I want you to know that if I get out of here, it will be different. I’ve always thought I was so tough and strong, but I’ve never been brave enough to love you back, even though I love you in my heart. I’ve always been too worried about what other people would think, what my family would think. From now on, I’m going to be brave. I promise you, I am going to be brave. I love you, Caleb. I’m so sorry.”