I watched the morning stretch lazily across the sky in front of me as I drove, the sun rising in a steady glow that painted the sky orange before slowly fading into the softest blue. The gray skies and snowy ground was left behind me, and though the weather stayed cool, there was a ray of hope in that sunshine ahead of me.
It was a struggle until I got out of the snow, actually, because I’d never driven in those conditions before. Apparently, it didn’t snow much in Portland, which meant the wonderland I’d seen was a rare one, and it also meant the streets weren’t exactly in the best conditions in the early morning after the snow had fallen. I’d taken it slow and driven with both hands firmly on the wheel until the roads cleared, the snow on the sides of it growing thinner and thinner until none existed at all. Phantom pains racked my leg, zinging up my thigh, my entire body too tense to function.
Once I was in the clear, a numb awareness fell over me, almost like I blacked out. I hardly noticed anything as I drove, my body falling into the automation of driving while my mind tumbled over the thousands of thoughts I had that morning.
It was like a driving meditation, my focus falling inward, body assuming the responsibilities of the physical world while my mind tried to find peace inside. Glen was in my head, telling me to prepare for the worst — but which would that be? Would it be that I drive to Palouse Falls and Emery isn’t there, or that I find him, but it’s too late?
On the one hand, if I simply didn’t find him, he could potentially be alive. But the worst part is I would never know either way. I would never hear from him again, alive or dead, and that pain of not knowing would haunt me.
But would it haunt me more than knowing with absolute certainty that he was gone from the Earth?
I didn’t know.
So, instead of focusing on those possibilities, I rested my faith in my heart center, sending vibes into the universe that I would find him, safe and sound, and that he would listen. Those two things were all I wanted, they were my deepest desire, and I set them as my intention as the miles ticked on, my breathing calming, steadying.
It was after ten in the morning by the time I pulled into the park, the sign welcoming me to Palouse Falls with a simple wooden greeting. I paid my entrance, inquiring about camping, and the attendant gave me directions to find the designated areas. The calm I’d found on the drive over was more subdued now, my heart picking up speed as I drove through the different sites looking for signs of Emery.
Kalo was quiet beside me, her chin resting on her paws, sad eyes glancing at me every now and then before they found focus somewhere else in the car. I just rubbed behind her ear, trying to soothe her, to assure her everything was okay when I knew she knew better.
“I miss him, too,” I told her, and she let out a long sigh, nudging into my hand before I pulled it back to the wheel. Then, my breath caught in my throat.
Emery’s car was parked just ahead, right next to two tents and a Jeep I didn’t recognize. The faint smell of eggs hit my nose as I parked next to his car, leashing Kalo and balancing on shaky legs as I neared the tent laid out in front of his convertible.
It was brand new, that much I could tell, and it was small — just enough for one person. The front of it was unzipped, and my heart hammered in my chest as one hand reached forward, pulling the flap open to peer inside.
Empty.
My stomach dropped as I took in the single sleeping bag, rumpled from a restless night, Emery’s bag under the top half of it like a pillow. A pair of his briefs and sweatpants lay at the foot of the sleeping bag in a heap, and the backpack we’d purchased in Colorado for hiking was nowhere to be seen.
Neither was his journal.
I stepped inside the tent with Kalo, eyes scanning his belongings as Kalo sniffed around. Her tail was wagging softly, her optimism returning, though mine remained stunted.
“He left about an hour ago.”
I jumped at the voice, hand flying to my heart as I spun on my heels and came face to face with a tall, broad-shouldered man. He was exotic, his wide blue eyes set ablaze next to his deep olive skin, dark hair pulled into a bun at the nape of his neck that almost blended with the thick beard lining his jaw. He was dressed and ready to hike for the day, his backpack already on his shoulders, boots tied up around his thick ankles.
He was watching me like he didn’t trust me at first, like I was a thief or a murderer or perhaps something worse. But then his expression softened, his eyes taking in my appearance fully. I imagined what I looked like after a night of no sleep, after a long drive alone, worry creasing my skin like wrinkles.
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He didn’t,” he said, voice gruff and low. “But there are only a few trails around here, wouldn’t be hard to find him, I imagine.” The man watched me a moment, hand running over his beard before he tucked it in his pocket. “You’re her, aren’t you?”
I frowned at the question, shame and guilt coloring my face as I nodded. “You… you talked to him.”
“A little,” he answered with a shrug. “When he felt like talking, which wasn’t much.”
My eyes closed at the thought, of him opening up to this stranger. I wondered what he said about me, what he didn’t say. I imagined him calling me all sorts of names, liar and betrayer being at the top of the list, but the calmness I’d gathered from the car ride over resurfaced, reminding me my deepest desire.
I need to find him, and I need him to listen. That’s all.
The man’s sigh brought me back to the present moment, his hands falling to his side as he bent down to the floor of the tent. Kalo ran right to him, and as he petted behind her ears, his eyes found mine.
“When he did talk, it was about you, but it was what he didn’t say that spoke the loudest. Something tells me he convinced himself he didn’t want to be found, but his mannerisms betrayed him. His eyes always watching the road, ears perking up at every car that drove by…” He paused, rubbing Kalo’s head. “Every dog that barked.”
I swallowed, bending down to his level, one of my hands finding Kalo’s soft fur, too, as I pleaded with him. “I need to find him. Please, can you help me?”
He was quiet, seemingly debating his role in our story before he stood. “There are three trails — one to a lower viewpoint of the falls, one to a secluded canyon, and the other to the top of the falls.”
“The top,” I croaked, voice thick with emotion as I planted a hand hard on my knee and pushed up to stand with him. I knew without a doubt that’s where Emery was… or at least, it’s where he’d gone. I just hoped he was still there. “How do I get there?”
The man gave me directions, telling me parking would be full and I should just leave my car where it was and hike up. It was a fairly easy hike, he said, and it wouldn’t take me too long.
After finally telling me his name, Jeremy handed me a bottle of water and offered to watch Kalo until I returned, and though he was still watching me like he didn’t trust me, it was as if he couldn’t refrain from helping me, either.
“He’s a good guy,” he said, his eyes softening. “But he’s in a dark place.”
“I know.”
He nodded. “I’m sure you do, or you wouldn’t be here.” His hand wrapped once around Kalo’s leash, but then his eyes adjusted on something behind me, and he squinted, head tilting. “Is that his bag?”
I turned, all the heat drained from my face, from my limbs, settling into a pool at the pit of my stomach as my eyes found the backpack we’d purchased together in Colorado Springs. It was propped against a stump of wood that looked like it was used for a chair beside the fire, and a sheet of lined paper was rolled and tucked into the handle at the top of it.
Swallowing, I walked with lead feet to the bag, bending to retrieve it from where it rested. It was light, and I untucked the rolled paper first, throat thick at the sight of his handwriting.
If found, please open.
I unzipped it quickly, throat collapsing altogether at the sight inside.
Three folded sheets of paper, that’s all that existed in that big, black empty space. My fingers numbly turned them over, one by one, eyes catching on the familiar script that outlined the outer edge of each. Each of them had an address scribbled under the name on the outside fold. One read Dad, one read Mom, and the final one, the one with the address for Papa Wyatt’s Diner, read Little Penny.
Emotion stung my nose, eyes welling at the sensation as I sniffed against it and shoved the papers back inside, zipping up the bag and tossing it over my shoulders. I couldn’t read that letter, wouldn’t read it — because I knew inside those folded edges was a goodbye I wasn’t ready to hear.
“Thank you,” was all I could manage before I turned, surviving on what little hope I had left as my feet picked up speed to match my racing heart.
It was an easy hike up to the top of the falls. My leg still ached even with the easy incline, my muscles tense and sore from lack of sleep and the worry that had racked through me all night. The skin where my leg ended and my prosthetic began stung a little, the friction from the hike wearing on it. I needed to rest, but I couldn’t — not yet.
I was thankful for the scarf and snow cap I’d purchased in Grants Pass, both of them doing what little they could to keep heat in as the wind picked up the higher I climbed. It swept in from the canyons all around, whipping my hair and striking my cheeks, but when I reached the top, it was eerily calm.
It would have been a breathtaking view, if I could have focused on anything other than the back of the man in front of me. I was distantly aware of the deep, earthy canyons, the rainbow that extended from the bottom of the falls, the ice that gathered at the edges of the earth and floated on the water below, constantly broken and moved by the powerful falls crashing. My breath warmed my nose as little puffs of white left my lips, a shiver breaking from neck to tailbone as emotion consumed me.
I found him.
He was a painting, a moment in time captured by an artist’s hand as he stood there at the edge of the falls. The sky was blue and clear above him, whisps of white cloud slowly floating by, the wind dancing with his hair. His back was tall and long, his shoulders broad, hands resting easily in the pockets of his athletic pants. I didn’t want to speak for fear of interrupting such a perfect sight, but under the peaceful tranquility of the scenery, a storm raged on inside of him — and I wanted to be his shelter.
“Emery.”
He didn’t jump, didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge that he’d heard me at all, though I knew he had. It was as if he expected me, or maybe as if he’d imagined me, like I was just a dream. I carefully moved forward, making sure each shoe gripped the slippery rock before I took the next step.
“Emery, you have every right to be angry with me. You should be furious, you should hate me,” I said, voice trembling as I closed in, slowly, inch by inch. “I violated your privacy. I asked you to trust me and open up to me when I couldn’t even be patient enough to wait for what I asked for. I don’t have any excuses, not any that are good enough, at least. All I can tell you is that I’m sorry, that I never meant to hurt you, and that when I met you, before I even got in your car, I felt a connection to you that I’ve never felt before in my entire life. It was kismet, it was a soul awakening. It was the first day of my life.”
I swallowed, still watching the muscles of his upper back as they ebbed and flowed with his breath.
“We’ve only spent weeks together, but it feels like a lifetime to me. It feels like every moment before you pulled into that diner parking lot was practice. I practiced breathing, practiced laughing, practiced existing in every moment on the way to you so that when you found me, I’d know how to live.”
I was numb to my own words, to my own emotions as I spoke. I hoped I made sense. I hoped I was reaching him. I hoped he was listening, it was all I needed him to do.
“There’s a reason you asked me to come with you, Emery. Your grandmother led you to that diner, and when you got there, you found me. You may not believe in the universe or God or fate or any of that, but I know you believed in your grandmother, in the way you connected with her. And maybe I’m reaching, maybe I’m reading too much into something I was never meant to be a part of at all, but that’s not how I feel, Emery, and I know that’s not how you feel, either.”
He dropped his head, the only movement he’d given me since I’d first called his name, and I paused, afraid I’d pushed too far, come too close.
“You asked me that first day we met what made me happy,” I reminded him. “And I couldn’t answer. I wasn’t happy. I was breathing, and that was all. But then I got in your car, and I took my first breath, and I lived. I saw things I’d never seen before, laughed harder than I knew I could, questioned things I’d believed my entire life and more than anything,” I said, catching my breath. “I fell in love with you. I fell in love with every dark shadow, with every scar, every flaw, every smile and every scowl. Your journal had nothing to do with that. I fell in love with you.”
I choked out a breath, shaking my head.
“And I know that sounds crazy,” I admitted on a laugh. “It is crazy. I’ve only known you for weeks, such a small snapshot of a lifetime but it was enough. And I know you’re tired,” I conceded, the truth digging into my ribs. “I know you’ve been hurt, you’ve been misunderstood, you’ve been poked and prodded and judged. I know you’ve lived on the outside for so long, in a lonely corner of the world where you’ve learned to embrace the silence. You’ve lost and you’ve hurt, and you feel like you’ve failed your family and your friends and everyone you’ve ever touched because you can’t give them the answers to why you feel the way you feel.”
The water rushed furiously below us, churning up energy, my body buzzing to life from the electric feel of it.
“But whether you meant to or not, you let me into that corner, too. And now I’m here, and we’re together, and it’s not so dark and cold but if you leave… if you jump, I’ll still be here. Please, Emery. Don’t leave. Ask me what makes me happy now. Ask me. I’ll tell you over and over and over again that it’s you. It’s you. You are loved, you are understood, and you are needed. I don’t need you to explain why you feel the way you feel because I already know. I have never judged you, and I never will. Please,” I begged again. “Stay. Stay with me. Live with me.”
My voice was just a whisper at the end, the sound of it mixing with the rush of the water. I’d said all I could say, and yet it somehow didn’t feel like enough. I was suspended in space, waiting, tethered to a man who could jump or pull me into him, and I didn’t know which he’d do.
The water washing over the edge of the canyon was the only sound as Emery turned, his shoes slipping on the rocks a bit before he steadied himself. A piece of me broke inside when his tired, red eyes landed on mine, the irises glossy, corners edged with stress. He took one, small step toward me, nose flaring as his eyes watered more.
“I wasn’t even mad,” he said, his voice low and heavy and tinged with regret. “When I saw you reading my journal, I wasn’t even mad — I was ashamed. I was embarrassed, like I was standing naked in front of a crowd of strangers. Except it was just you, and you weren’t laughing.” He was shaking, every inch of him from shoulders to ankles. “I knew you understood, I knew you loved me, and that scared me more than if you’d pointed and laughed and run away.”
I chewed my bottom lip, eyes welling with his.
“This was always the plan,” he said, exasperated, his hand gesturing to the waterfall behind him before it slapped his thigh in defeat. “I was so sure. I knew peace waited for me here, that I’d finally feel okay, that I’d finally be able to let go. This was supposed to be easy,” he choked. “And it is. It’s the easiest choice. I can jump, right now, and free fall into nothing. I can choose to never wake up to another bad day, or fight to fall asleep with my thoughts haunting me at night, or look into the eyes of everyone I’ve disappointed and have no words of reassurance to offer them. I can choose that, right now.”
A sob broke through me and I shook my head violently, a whispered no unheard under my breath. But then Emery closed the distance between us, his hands flattening against either side of my face, thumbs wiping away the tears.
“Living is hard, it’s the more difficult choice, but I can’t not choose it,” he said, his golden eyes sweeping over mine. “My grandmother told me if I took this trip and didn’t find anything that made me feel alive, I could join her, I could choose to leave this world and she would understand. But I can’t,” he said, brows bending inward as he leveled his eyes with mine. “Because I found you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, a rush of hot tears staining my cheeks. It was too much, the overwhelming storm of emotions I felt in that moment, and when I opened my eyes again and found his, my hands crawled up his waist, gripping his sweater and pulling him into me like he was my first breath. I needed him that much, as much as I needed to breathe, and he was here.
He was alive.
His hands tilted my face up, his lips crashing into mine like he hated me and loved me all at once, like I’d saved him and executed him at the same time. His fingers twisted into my hair, fisting, his mouth consuming every breath I let go on top of that canyon. He bruised my lips and still I begged for more. I wanted all of him, every burning breath, every tortured touch, every whispered curse. The good, the bad, the unthinkable. I wanted all of it, and I took it with that kiss.
“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I cried against his lips, but he just kissed me with more intention, shaking his head.
“I’m here,” he answered, and I cried harder, gripping him like he would fall at any moment, like touching him was the only way to keep him with me.
I didn’t have any other words, not after all I’d said. “I’m sorry,” I repeated, the three syllables weak and not enough.
“Look at me,” he said, pulling back and lifting my chin. “Even before you got here, I knew. I watched the sun rise over these canyons and I knew it wasn’t the sun rising on my last day, because I wanted more sun rises. With you.” His eyes glistened, his irises searching mine. “I wasn’t going to jump, I wasn’t going to leave you. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I could.” Emery kissed me softer, thumb tracing my lips when his own were gone. “You’re stuck with me now.”
Something between a laugh and a sob left my lips and he kissed me again, sealing that promise with heat, his arms wrapping all the way around me. The water rushed just as furiously, but I no longer feared it, no longer heard it as the treacherous siren of finality. Instead, it filled me in a slow, steady stream, washing me clean, and I pulled Emery closer, hoping the waves would reach him, too.
It was like every moment between us existed at the top of that waterfall, the memories sweeping in from the canyons and up from the water below. I closed my eyes and saw his wide smile in the driver seat, his hair blowing back. I inhaled a breath and smelled the beached kelp below Esalen, the way it mixed with Emery’s natural scent. When his hands gripped my waist, I saw my hips bare for the first time under his palms, felt him moving between my thighs with gentle care, like it was a privilege and a responsibility both. I heard his laugh, his moans, his desperate pleas for understanding — and I answered them with a kiss, opening my eyes to take him in.
His thumbs brushed my jaw, eyes searching mine, and in that moment, we were alive. We were a boy and a girl, seemingly so opposite yet more alike than we even knew, standing together at the end of a journey neither of us ever saw coming, an adventure we never could have prepared for.
Except it wasn’t the end at all.
It was the first letter, the first word, the first sentence with no punctuation mark in sight. It was a beautiful, messy beginning, an honest truth written in script, in a handwriting with loops and curves only we could decipher.
It was real. It was painful. It was healing.
And most of all, it was ours.
The End