Something pink dappled through the leaves. I squinted, sorting out the layers of green from the objects below. A white arm, a pair of hiking boots placed side by side on black slate, socks draped over them. In silence, I drew aside a branch and saw Sandra’s shining hair and curved back as she sat on a rock, arms wrapped around her knees.
She turned and waved when she heard me call her name. I fumbled my way down the steep bank. Following her lead, I unbuckled my pack and let it drop to the earth. Crazy to think mine was a “pared down” version. Nothing ever felt so good. I nearly skipped over the rocks to join her in the sunshine at the base of a waterfall just taller than a man.
Grimacing, I took off my shoes and peeled off my bloodstained socks; blisters on my heels and toes had already broken.
“Shit, Wini, what are you doing?” she said with concern as she looked at my feet. She unzipped a side pocket in her pack, dug around in it. “How can you even walk?” She laid out a sheet of moleskin, a little packet of disinfectant, a Swiss Army knife. Using the tiny pair of scissors on the knife, she snipped off a small patch of moleskin. “God, I hope I have enough of this stuff. You poor thing!”
I wanted to cry a little, I was so relieved to find her and that she knew what to do, but instead I let her ease my feet into the icy stream while I nearly fainted from the pain-pleasure of the rushing water.
“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she said as I extracted one foot and rested it on the warm stone. She glanced up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “Here, hand me that little towel from my bag.”
“Oh, Loo, what’s the matter?”
She shook her head and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands, bending back down to her task. “Oh, you know, same old thing.”
Which meant Jeff. None of us could stand him, this husband who had for fourteen years been treating her like a possession. Better be home by ten, who are you going with, better not be lying, I might just drive by and make sure you’re really there at your so-called girls’ night out . . . All sweetness and smiles in front of Pia and Rachel and me; roaring like an animal with Sandra in the privacy of their home and smashing his fist through the wall next to her head if she arrived back only a few minutes late. Just standing next to him gave me a whiff of violence.
I sat close to her and put my arm around her.
“He said don’t bother coming home.”
“Come on, Sandra—”
“I talked to him back at the lodge. He said he never gave me permission to go on this trip. He’s crazy, but you knew that,” she said with a sad little laugh.
“It’s been a long time, you know, with this man.”
She nodded, face deep in shadow, thick black hair sweeping forward.
“Every year you say you’re going to give him another year and then—”
Fresh tears flowed out of her. “I know, my God, I know! I just wanted to be with my friends, especially you. I mean, how often do we get to see each other?”
“Never enough.”
“But I couldn’t let him destroy this weekend. It’s too important to me.”
We hugged, and it struck me—as it always did—how small she felt. I thought about her words. Rachel and Pia had been best friends since grade school, but Sandra and I had each other’s back, an unshakable trust and understanding. She was the one who had carried me through the first days of horror after Marcus’s death—was still carrying me. She understood my heart, and all our hearts; she saw the truth behind Pia’s manic trekking, Rachel’s rigidity, my chronic inertia; forgave it all and loved us anyway.
Without looking up from her work, Sandra said softly, “He was my rebound relationship after Joe, you know. How stupid is it to actually marry your rebound guy?”
“Yes, but—”
She waved me away with a little laugh. “I guess that’s not news to anybody, but look, Win, I am done with Jeff. I made my decision back at the lodge. All this time I’ve been staying in this for Ethan and Hannah, but if I were being honest with myself, those kids are exactly the reason I have to get away from him! They’re getting older, they’re picking up on things. Ethan’s started having these nightmares . . . kids are just sponges, you know? But I’m telling you, something about being with all of you guys again, it inspired me. . . .” She wiped her eyes and looked at me. “Anyway, I wanted you to be the first to know.”
“Loo, that’s great to hear—” I touched her forearm, and she seemed to tear up again, so I withdrew my hand.
“That’s all I can say right now. I don’t want to talk about it. It’ll take me back there. I want to be here, on this trip, with my friends.” She looked up, blinking. “In this sunlight, by this stream. Okay?”
“I hear you.” I winced as she cleaned my other foot, dried it. “How much farther to the campsite, do you think?”
“A mile or so.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that they’ve left us behind like this?”
“You know they’re going to do what they’re going to do.” She put the knife and moleskin back in her pack, sat back on her haunches. “Let’s just enjoy the ride, okay? I mean, look at this place.” She laughed and threw up her arms. “This is soooo not my marriage, not my bills, my PTO conferences, my job. It’s our adventure, Win.”
“But you won’t leave me behind, will you?”