1
I came here so that no one would hear me scream. The redwoods surrounding me are muffling my sobs. Birds are flying away frightened, and rabbits are running for their lives.
I have been here for a few days already, all alone, surviving on energy bars and bags of dried fruit and nuts. I brought real food – dried soups and pasta – and a tiny camping stove for heating up food and water, but I just don’t have the energy for all that.
I haven’t had much of an appetite in weeks, actually. Not since it happened. A part of me thought that my appetite might return here. But it hasn’t. Now, the forty-pound bag stuffed with all the food and supplies that I have no use for serves no purpose except to make my shoulders raw.
But there’s nothing to do. I’m lost and angry and self-destructive, but not self-destructive enough to throw away food. I’m in the backcountry of the Yosemite National Park. I haven’t seen another human in four days. Who knows what awaits me in the five days to come. My supplies could mean the difference between life and death, and I am not throwing them away.
Looking down at my topographical map, I try to figure out how much longer it will take me to get to the lake. I have been hiking for five hours, and I want to get there before the sun dips below the horizon and the chill of the night returns. I haven’t had a shower in days, and I need to wash off the thick layer of dirt covering every inch of my body.
According to where I think I am on the map, the lake is still about half an hour away. But I’m wrong… I take a few steps around the bend and see it right in front of me.
Majestic and elegant, a thick forest of pines surrounds the lake, which cradles it as if it’s a gem.
I drop my bag and run down to a barely-existent path through the pine trees. As I run, I peel off my clothes piece by piece until I step out of my panties and jump into the ice cold, glacier water.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I yelp.
The water rushes over me and through me and, for a brief moment, I forget everything that has happened. My mom isn’t dead. I didn't spend two years of my life nursing her. I didn't hate my dad for leaving her right before she got sick and never returning.
I rise out of the water. The warm sun feels nice on my erect nipples, comforting even. I dip back down, this time submerging my head. Freezing water rushes over my head, and I scream under water.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck!”
I scream. The water is so cold I feel like my lungs are collapsing within my chest. I scream again. I had to be a rock for two years, and I just can’t take it anymore.
The temperature difference between the air and the water is probably more than 50 degrees, and I can’t get enough of the water. It’s focusing my mind. Nothing else exists except right here and now.
It’s quite a change from the world where I came from. That world of anxiety over the future and the depression over the past makes me wish that I were the one who had gotten cancer instead of her. It would've been easier for me to handle.
Here, I don’t dwell on the past or worry about the future. My mind doesn’t spin in circles on what could’ve been or what might be. Rising out and diving back into the crystal-clear water centers me.
Alive.
Awake.
Aware.
I’m present in this moment, and this moment is all that matters. It’s all I have.
“Hey! Hey, there!” A deep voice pierces my solitude.
Who is this asshole infringing on my one moment of fun and hope? I turn around.
“Mind if I join you?” he yells from the shore. “You’re the first person I’ve seen in two days.”
“Whatever,” I yell back and dive under the water.
It’s going to be okay. I’m not going to let this stranger invade my fun. The lake is more than two miles across. There’s room for both of us here.
When I come back up for air, the stranger is waist deep in the water. His body is tan and strong. He descends into the water and comes back up again. When he comes up, every defined muscle in his body glistens in the sun as if he is a Greek god.
“Wow, it’s cold,” he laughs. I smile and try to look away from his toned stomach and all six clearly defined muscles that form his six-pack.
My fingers sweep over my thighs. Suddenly, I come to my senses. Somewhat.
I am naked. Completely naked. Shit.
“This feels amazing, doesn’t it?” he asks.
“Yeah, I guess so,” I nod. Are we really going to talk about the temperature of the water?
“What are you doing here?” he asks, coming closer.
He submerges into the water up to his shoulders. My mind focuses on his face. He hasn’t shaved in a couple of days, but his jawline is strong and powerful. His eyes are piercing blue, the color of the cloudless sky. Long strands of light brown hair fall into his face.
He dives under the water. I wrap my hands around my body as if there is anything I can do if he opens his eyes under the water.
He rises out of the water a god. He tosses his head and all hair from his face dances and falls into place. A beautiful, friendly smile forms on his lips.
“I’m Tristan,” he says. “What’s your name?”
I want to lie but lose my train of thought. “Annabelle.”
“Annabelle? I’ve never met anyone by that name before,” he smiles. His white teeth sparkle in the sunlight.
“I’ve never met anyone named Tristan before,” I mumble.
I’m flirting. I haven’t flirted in who knows how long, and something about saying those words reminds me that I am a woman. It’s a nice feeling.
“Tristan? Where’s that from?”
He smiles again. It takes everything I have to not reach out and brush my fingers along his luscious, soft lips.
“From a lot of places, but really it’s from an old English story about star-crossed lovers, Tristan and Isolde.”
Of course, I know that. I wrote a term paper on Tristan and Isolde junior year in college. I meant why the hell he has that name.
“Sounds like your parents were romantics,” I smile.
“You can say many things about my parents,” Tristan says, “but I’m not sure you can say that.”
I nod. My arms are no longer shielding my body. I spread them out wide around me. It’s not deep enough in this spot that I can’t reach the ground, but I like treading water. I bob up and down, periodically exposing my collarbones and a bit below that, all the while still staying decent.
“And what about you, Annabelle?” He smiles. “Annabelle is kind of a literary name too, wouldn’t you say?”
I roll my eyes. He is, of course, referring to the famous Annabel Lee from Edgar Allen Poe.
“Yes, it was as if my mom wanted me to become depressive.”
I don’t mean to mention her, but I do. And the very thought of her makes my throat close. This is why I have come here – to get away from thoughts of her. To get away from a world that is made up of her.
“Oh no, not at all,” he laughs.
There is a sweetness in his smile. The type of kindness I have never seen in people out in the real world. He is real, true, and honest.
“I think it’s simpler than that. I don’t know your mom, of course, but she probably loved Edgar Allen Poe, and he loved Annabel Lee, and so she fell in love with his love for her and everything that that name represented.”
“You think it was as simple as that?”
“Yes, I do,” he nods. “Things typically are.”
That isn’t even a bit true – things in the real world are complicated and complex, full of layers and emotions and misunderstandings. Yet here, with Tristan, the world seems simple. Black and white. Easy to navigate. I nod.
“So how are we going to do this?” Tristan asks.
I have no idea what he is talking about.
“Get out of the water.” He smiles.
I look down and remember that I am naked. I look up at him. Through the crystal-clear water, I can see that he is completely naked as well. But I can’t make out any details. I feel a strange tingling in the area between my legs. If the water wasn’t so cold, I know that I would also feel warm and moist.