How He Promised And How He Lied
My eyes move slowly from the bulky black watch on my wrist up to the world around me.
Carol of the Bells is playing from the hidden speaker around the large fountain, but is barely heard over the ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s of the tourists watching the usual water show. Even in the darkness of night, Las Vegas is light, glimmering and sparkling different colors.
On a normal day, I also would be in awe of my beautiful surroundings. I would crowd around the fountain like the other tourists and watch water shoot up into the air in time to the music.
Except, first of all, I’m not a tourist, and second, it’s not a normal day –at least, I don’t normally hang out in Las Vegas.
By now, the show is over and the last of the water falls back down, spraying a wave of cold mist onto my bare arm.
The music stops, and sounds of cars speeding by on the road quickly fill the air.
I don’t really absorb the fact that the night air is getting chilly and I don’t put on my jacket. The sound is muffled by the glass doors of the casino behind me, but I can still hear the laughter of the gamblers, the whirring of the machines, and the clinking of coins and chips.
Smoke fills the air as a man nearby lights a cigarette. A child nearby coughs.
I blink slowly and turn on the spot, searching with my eyes. I overlook the flashing lights on the signs advertising the next Alegria show by Cirque De Soleil that line the side of the road.
I scan through the crowd of nicely dressed gamblers leaving one casino to try their luck elsewhere, hoping to get rich overnight in Sin City. I can’t find the face I’m looking for.
Another minute ticks by and a group of woman wearing cocktail dresses pass by with tuxedo-clad men, and I scrunch my nose as I get a whiff of the alcoholic-stink that moves with them.
When they’ve walked away to a safer distance, I let out my breath and it frosts and makes a small cloud in front of me. I watch it fade away and realize he isn’t coming like he promised. I’ve given him three hours, which is more than enough for him; my brother had been all about being on time when we were growing up.
I turn and walk numbly down the sidewalk.
He’s not coming. He’s not coming. He’s not coming, I repeat to myself over and over again.
The flight back to Manhattan the next morning is quiet. I take a direct flight; no stops along the way. There’s a part of my mind that isn’t accepting reality. I keep thinking that maybe, if I go on a short detour, I can somehow make it to where Julien is.
There’s another part of my mind that has gone bitter; I’m going to die old without ever seeing my brother again.
I pull out my keys to the apartment, which, thankfully were not lost during my little escapade. My mom isn’t home yet and I go straight to the bathroom for a shower and a change of clothes.
I stay under the hot water for an hour, letting steam seep through the shower curtains and fill the room. I wash away the grime I didn’t get off when I rinsed my hair in the sink of the airport and for a while, I try to wash away all the events of the past few days from my memory. I forget how scared I was at night when I curled into a ball under the night sky and tried to ignore the moans and howls of the forest night life in Teton National Forest. I forget my desperation as I staggered through it during the day, looking for some trail or direction as to where civilization was.
As I dry my hair, I stare at myself in the mirror. I look tired. My mouth is set in a frown and there are shadows under my eyes, which are slightly red and bloodshot. There are a few ugly black and blue splotches on my arm and one at the edge of my hairline, half on my forehead, and half in my hair. There’s a really big bruise on my knee –I noticed when I was taking a shower –and scabs already covering the shallow cuts and scrapes on my arms and hands.
I finally walk out of the bathroom, feeling refreshed and clean for the first time in a while, and walk through the empty apartment. First I go to the phone and call the car-rental company in Casper. They aren’t happy to learn I crashed one of their cars, but I persuade them not to charge too much for damages; it was, after all, the ugliest one they had –not to mention the stickiness and weird smell of the interior adding to the gross-factor of it.
Later, I wind up sitting in the small living room staring at the blank TV screen and I feel a strange sense of déjà vu as I turn it on and hear, “Oh, Sammy! I love you!”
My hand goes automatically to click the remote and change the channel. I hate cheesy romance movies.
I watch a zombie eat someone’s brains on the screen instead and think.
There’s some work I need to do before university starts again –I need to write a fictional essay about a journey. Any journey, Professor McCarthy instructed simply before he dismissed the class, it could be physical, emotional, or psychological.
I have a certain journey in mind as I stand quickly and sprint through the apartment to my dark room.
I don’t bother opening the light as I turn on my laptop; the screen illuminates the room in a glowing bluish-white light as it starts up.
I open my favorite word processor and hesitate. The text cursor is blinking steadily as the blank page waits to be filled.
I start to write a word and then quickly hit the backspace. The page is purely white again, save for the blinking cursor. After a few false starts and more taps of the backspace key, the words start to flow.
When I reach the end of the first paragraph, I let out a deep sigh.
The memories are starting to flood my mind now and my fingers fly across the keyboard with increasing velocity. I hear the click-clacking of the keys, and I feel myself getting pulled under the current of all those memories. I’m drowning as I remember everything.
****
“Oh, Johnny! I love you!”
Gross; Cheesy old romance movies.
Kill me now, please.
How can life be so boring?
Even lying on my back and staring at the television screen upside-down wasn’t making the movie any more interesting. Plus this couch really wasn’t doing anything good for my back.
I sighed dramatically into the empty living room.
Fall vacation sucks.
Well at least university has fall vacation, I mused. K-12 grades don’t have it, although that’s probably because they have a longer summer one.
Groaning, I rolled back onto my stomach, and snatched the TV remote off the carpet. I turned off the television and waited for the slight head rush I was experiencing to finish before I ventured off the black, fuzzy couch and into the kitchen.
I grabbed the almost empty plastic bag of bread off the top of the fridge and put it on the counter. While rummaging through the refrigerator for cheese and turkey to make a sandwich, I found half a jar of peanut butter instead and decided to just eat the creamy substance right out of the jar with a spoon instead of throwing together a sandwich for lunch.
I might’ve been sitting at the kitchen counter, twirling around on the spinning stool with a spoon of peanut butter stuck in my mouth for about five minutes when the phone rang.
It’s one of those cordless telephones that can hang onto the wall and it was about three feet away.
I watched the orange light on the charger blink as the phone let out another shrill ring, trying to use The Force to bring it across the room and into my hand.
When it became obvious I still hadn’t mastered the art of ‘Mind Over Matter’ after all my nineteen years of existence, I set down the PB jar, hopped off the stool and took two steps to reach the phone.
“Hello, my life sucks.” I said just because I’ve wanted to answer a call like that since I saw Jonathan Sadowski say it in the movie She’s the Man back in ’06.
“Ali?” The voice was a guy’s definitely, and it sounded familiar. Unfortunately, I can never pin-point voices over the phone.
“That’s me.” I confirmed, cradling the telephone between my shoulder and my ear as I reached over to the counter for the peanut butter.
“Okay, Ali, could you-?”
“Hey, back it up, man. I can’t tell who you are. Wait –Drake, is that you?”
The other end was silent for a moment, and I could hear whoever it was breathing heavily into the mic., “Ali, don’t you-? It’s me, Julien.”
I licked some peanut butter off my spoon and stared at the white-tiled floor near my bare feet. Then his words seemed to sink into my brain and I gave a yelp of surprise, accidentally dropping my spoon. It clattered noisily on the floor. I fumbled with the phone and eventually got it right-side up and everything in my hands.
“Hello? Julien? Are you still there?” I demanded.
“Still here, Ali.”
“Where on Earth are you?”
“I’m… I’m staying with a new friend,” he said.
“A girlfriend?” I asked.
“No.” he said, sounding like that was a totally crazy idea. Well, Julien never was a lady’s man, I guess. “Anyway, listen; can we meet? I haven’t seen you in a while-”
“Almost two years.” I said, “What were you thinking, Julien? You weren’t even eighteen yet and if you hadn’t left that stupid little Post-It in the fridge, Mom and Daddy would’ve thought you were kidnapped or something!”
“Ali, shut up for two seconds and listen, ‘kay?” Julien interrupted.
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” I snapped, “I have a right to yell at you! Two years! No phone call, no email –not even a post card from you!”
“Well it’s not like anyone would’ve cared!” Julien shot back.
I opened and closed my mouth, gaping speechlessly at such an absurd thought, “No one would’ve-? Are you kidding me?” I sputtered.
“Mom and Dad were always too caught up with themselves to notice us, Ali!”
“They were heartbroken when you ran away!” I shouted into the telephone.
“You know what? This was totally a waste! I don’t know why I called in the first place-”
“Yeah, why did you call, huh, Julien? Why not last year? Or are you ahead of schedule? Were you planning on calling next year?” I said mockingly. I had forgotten how he could get on my nerves so quickly in the past.
“I… I wanted to see you okay?” Julien said, sounding like he was totally humiliated.
This unexpected answer shocked me into a few seconds of silence. Then I grinded my teeth together and said coolly, “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Julien admitted, “So… could we?”
“Could we what?”
“Could we meet?”
I was silent for a moment as I thought it over. Yes or no? Of course, it was hardly a difficult decision, “Alright,” I said slowly, “Give me a time and place.”
“Is Las Vegas good?”
“Las Vegas?” I repeated blankly, “Like, Las Vegas with the casinos and crap?”
“I’m pretty sure there’s only one Las Vegas.” Julien said, and I could almost hear him rolling his eyes.
“Okay. Okay, Las Vegas. Okay.” I said again, “Um. Las Vegas when?”
“How about Sunday night at nine in front of the Bellagio Fountain?” The answer was quick. He’d probably come up with it beforehand. He knew I would agree, eventually.
“Okay. Um. How will I know where you are? Las Vegas isn’t exactly, like, deserted or anything and I’ve seen pictures of that fountain and it isn’t exactly one of those cute circular ones with a cupid spouting water at the top.” I rolled my eyes, even though he couldn’t see me.
“I’ll be wearing red. All red. I think I’ll stand out, don’t you?”
“Okay. I’ll wear, um, red, too.” I said, nodding, even though he couldn’t see it. It didn’t really sound like a very good plan, but hey, when Julien said he would be wearing all red, he meant all red –from his coat to his shoes and socks. He’s just like that.
“Perfect. Listen, Ali, I have to go, but I’ll see you on Sunday, okay?”
“Right. Okay. And uh, Julien?”
“Yeah?” he said.
“Promise you’ll be there?” I whispered. I guess –and I know this is totally clichéd –but I kind of thought this might be some weird dream I was having because I was lonely and mad at my brother for leaving me by myself. Maybe I would wake up and find myself still in bed, or maybe I fell asleep in front of the television.
There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I promise, Ali.” he said.
I smiled and said, “Thanks. See you Sunday, Julien.”
“Later, baby sis.” He said.
“I’m older than you.” I grinned.
“Details, details,” he replied, and I could imagine Julien somewhere with a phone in one hand, waving his other dismissively.
“Okay,” I laughed, “Bye.”
“Bye.”
He hung up first and I listened to the beeping sound that goes off when there’s no one on the other line for a few seconds before hanging up the telephone, too.
I took a step back and sat down slowly back onto the stool, my smile quickly sliding off my face.
My brain totally wasn’t absorbing what had just happened.
Las Vegas. Bellagio. Julien. Nine O’clock.
I blinked twice and then got up, stepped over my spoon (still on the ground) and drifted back to my room, somewhat in a daze.
Today was Wednesday. We were meeting on Sunday.
I took a deep breath as I sat down on the edge of my purple-covered bed. Bending over, I put my face in my hands and rubbed my eyes and then my temples.
I stayed silent and stared at the floor. There was a small stream of light that had squeezed its way through the crack in between the two heavy, navy blue curtains that covered the single window opposite of the door. That bit of light stretched across my room, making a strip of light on the gray carpet and on the top of the toes on my left foot.
I usually don’t turn on the lights in my room. I have a lamp on the desk in the corner of the room and that’s what I use when I’m doing homework. Since NYU, where I go to school, is so close to our home, I don’t live in a dorm –not that I particularly want to.
Today the darkness and silence around me was comforting. It made me feel freer to think for some reason.
One thing was for certain, I thought. I was not going to tell Mom about this –not exactly, anyway. If I told her about Julien’s call, she would take it as a sign that he was coming back home. After Julien ran off, Mom got a lot more involved in her work; it was her way of taking her mind off things. So unless Julien actually was coming home, I couldn’t tell her anything.
Wait a minute!
I sat up straight; that’s it!
If I were a cartoon, I would have a little floating light bulb over my head.
When I meet Julien, if I could convince him to stop running around and come back to NYC, Mom would be happy, I would be happy, and Julien would be happy (I think). It was a win-win-win situation. Nothing could go wrong.
At least, that’s what I thought.
I booked a flight to Casper/Natrona International Airport, Wyoming the next day. I really hate airplanes, so I like to have a connecting flight –one with a nice wait before I had to get into the air again –and even though I was taking a cheap airline, it still took a lot of the money I had earned at waiting tables at a two-star restaurant for the last two years to get the two airplane seats; one to Casper and another to Las Vegas.
That night around ten, I called my mom –who was still at work –and said (a little nervously) that I was treating myself to a vacation and that I had already booked the flight.
“That’s great, honey,” she had replied distractedly, “You deserve a break. Take lots of pictures for me, okay? Oh, sorry, gotta go –love ya –bye!”
And so, here I was, Thursday morning, walking into JFK International Airport. Since I wasn’t going to another country, like Japan or China or anything, my gate was one of the small ones way at the end of the airport, tucked away behind the big, double-decker Boeing 747’s taking off from the first gates, off to some exotic land that would take ten billion hours to get to.
I had with me a single backpack, stuffed with extra clothes for if I got cold and for the next few days. I’m excellent at packing. I had an extra shirt, pair of pants, socks, under garments, and a sweater. Plus I was wearing my favorite red jacket.
Yes, I was leaving two days earlier –and I didn’t exactly plan out where the heck I was going to stay when I got to Sin City –but if I stayed around the apartment, I eventually would’ve accidentally spilled the beans to my mom about Julien’s call –which is not something I wanted to do.
I watched a medium sized airplane pull up in front of my gate through the big windows that I’m pretty sure all airports have. The sky outside was cloudy, with no sunlight, but it had been getting cloudier and cloudier for the past week, so I wasn’t exactly concerned. Meteorologists predicted only 60% precipitation, so it couldn’t be that bad.
Looking back on my nonchalance for the situation, I think at the time, I should have recalled that my SAT score in math wasn’t exactly the best –I barely passed –so I wasn’t really someone to judge the likes of weather probabilities.
Anyway, the flight to Casper was, predictably, uncomfortable. The seat itched, my seatbelt kept tightening itself until I was on the verge of getting cutting in half at the waist (I’m kidding, of course), and the captain kept saying Ladies and gentlemen, please hold tight and remain seated; we’re experiencing a bit of turbulence. It felt like a really bad merry-go-round ride; up… down… up, down, up, down, down, down, oh look! Up again!
By the time the captain informed the cabin members, We are now entering Wyoming, but please stay seated, as we are still experiencing some turbulence, I was really close to actually using the air/trash bag in the pocket of the seat in front of me. Plus, to add to the weird hum of the engines and the rattling of the overhead compartments (all those luggage), there was a pitter-pattering-sound going on with the walls. I had absolutely no idea what it was until I leaned over the lady next to me and saw big, fat water drops splashing against the window.
Well, I thought to myself, I guess the 60% chance of precipitation won over the 40% chance of no precipitation after all.
Once out of the plane and into the airport, I wandered around until I located a screen with the gates, times, and destinations written on them.
I was shocked to find that almost every single one of the flights said DELAYED next to it; the ones that didn’t had the words CANCLED next to it.
I ran to my gate and found the screen next to the door to the gate said FLIGHT TO LAS VEGAS, NEVADA DELAYED. NEW TIME OF DEPARTURE: 7:00 PM.
“Omigosh; you’ve got to be kidding me!” I groaned through my teeth, stomping my foot against the carpet.
“Well whadaya expect?” A man sitting nearby said, “It’s pouring out there.”
As if on cue, lightning flashed outside and thunder could be heard over the airport hubbub.
I clenched my teeth together and adjusted my backpack, then turned and walked away. Or rather, stomped away.
They wanted to delay the flight for six hours? Fine! I would drive to Las Vegas by myself –the rain wasn’t that bad!
Admittedly, my frustration was a little extinguished by the time I rented a car from one of the cheap companies. I bought a large bottle of water and a box of Oreos and but them in my backpack for a snack on the road, and then bought a big map of the state of Wyoming.
The car I had rented was pretty ugly –a small orange one and the inside had a weird musty smell to it. And the gas pedal was kind of sticky for some reason.
Still, I pulled out of the parking garage with the map of Wyoming lying over my backpack on the front seat and rain pounding on the windshield.
I headed down Yellowstone Highway on route 20/26. I planned on going west until I reached the town of Shoshoni and then I would start heading southwest toward Nevada.
I tried turning on the radio to listen to something, but the signal kept going all whacky and I couldn’t hear anything it said over the thunder outside anyway, so I turned it off again.
The wipers on the windshield flashed back and forth, but the rain was barely wiped away before more splats of water attacked the window.
The road was a blur and I could barely make out what the signs said.
I’d probably been driving for three hours when lightning flashed and lit up the sky to reveal a large wooden sign by the road that read TETON NATIONAL FOREST.
I hit the brakes quickly and the car slid on the road before coming to a halt.
Grabbing my map, I clicked on the overhead light and searched for Teton National Park. It turned out that I had somehow gone northwest instead of south somewhere –probably just past Shoshoni. I was in the north corner of Wyoming, whereas Las Vegas was south.
I looked out the window. Man, the rain really was kind of bad. I could barely see through the downpour and the accompanying sound made it feel more like rocks were falling from the sky instead of water.
Now I’m not really a big decision-maker. I may like being on my own, but I always turn to someone else for directions. With me out here all by my lonesome, I was at high risk for doing something stupid.
I revved up the engine and drove forward, gaining speed before performing a U-turn. Unfortunately, I miscalculated the distance (bad at math, remember?) and my swerve went too wide, causing the car to take a slide through some mud on the side of the road.
The car crashed off the road and down a slope, picking up speed as it went.
I had a killer-grip on the steering wheel and my eyes were squeezed close, my mouth clenched shut. The rain was hitting the windshield with the sound of bullets being fired.
I tried to stomp down on the brakes but in my confusion I ended up hitting the gas pedal. The car lurched forward even more quickly and I went jumping up out of my seat. The seatbelt locked automatically and at the same moment my foot found the brake, but a large bump on the ground sent the car into the air just as I hit the pedal down.
The last thing I remember was getting thrown forward by the force and an ugly crack as my head hit the windshield.
****
I slowly opened my eyes. At first everything was fuzzy. My head was throbbing and all I could see were dark outlines. There was a light pitter-patter sounding overhead, seemingly off in the distance. Something was cutting into by shoulder –this turned out to be my seatbelt.
I sat up, feeling disheveled and looked around. The windows were all fogged up since the heater in the car was still going and the engine was still running. I had landed perfectly on the ground without destroying the vehicle or myself, for that matter.
It seemed to take a large amount of effort to wrap my hand around the key and pull it out of the ignition and then to reach back and undo my seat belt. I grabbed the map of Wyoming and folded it as best I could before sliding it into the front pocket of my backpack. Then I unlocked and opened the door.
Things literally went downhill from there. I took two steps out of the car, slipped on something seemingly slimy on the ground –probably just wet grass –and stumbled forward and downwards before I could take in my surroundings.
Muttering darkly, I got to my feet and picked up my backpack, which was thrown a few feet away when I fell. I flicked a speck of mud off it and swung it onto my shoulder. Then, even though nobody could see me, I lifted my chin and walked away with as much dignity as I could muster.
Call me stupid, call me impulsive, call me whatever you want to, but I still went in the wrong direction.
So, let’s review:
Due to my inability to predict the weather and calculate a decent U-turn, I, Alice, have –instead of falling into a rabbit hole – driven off the highway, crashed, knocked myself unconscious, and finally, I have managed to start walking toward the aforementioned highway, only to have gone IN THE COMPLETELY WRONG DIRECTION.
In my defense, I must say that it was pretty dark out. Lightning was not frequent and when it flashed, it was off to the distance and did not provide much light.
When I finally realized I had been walking a little too long to be heading in the right direction, I stopped.
My jacket was waterproof, and so were some parts of my backpack, but the rest of my clothes soaked up the rain like a dry sponge in a tub of water. The back of my shirt was wet, too; water had trickled down the back of my neck and had been absorbed by my blue t-shirt.
I looked around and grinded my teeth together in frustration. It was so dark and I couldn’t see anything more than the trees directly around me. I was wet and I was lost.
I should have waited in the car. I should’ve waited in the airport, I thought, biting my teeth together so hard it was making my jaw hurt. I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to start crying. My lips pulled back, but I kept my teeth together.
I started to turn and start walking back, but I stopped. What if I went deeper into the wilderness instead?
Eventually, just standing there wasn’t working for me. I started walking again. Two minutes later, I turned and walked in a different direction. I turned again later and walked a different way. Somehow I figured that if I kept changing directions, I would eventually get somewhere.
And I did. Just not where I wanted to get.
****
I groaned and opened my eyes. The light that met my sensitive morning vision caused me to quickly squeeze my eyes close.
I fluttered my eyelids open and close a few times to get used to the light and then sat up.
My arms were wrapped around my backpack and my hair was plastered to my face and neck with water.
Feeling positively disgusting, I dragged myself off the ground.
The sunshine, the birds chirping nearby, and the swaying-in-the-wind spruce tree around me gave out a very disturbing vibe of peacefulness. The trees, first of all, were not very tall. They were mostly just taller than I was, at my average height of five foot seven.
I pulled at my jeans and my shirt, which were sticking to my skin from the water that was still on them.
I remembered walking and walking the day before, numb and wet, until I was so exhausted I collapsed onto the ground and fell asleep on the spot.
I opened my backpack and pulled out my extra clothes, while taking off my jacket. The cool morning air immediately attacked my damp clothing and made goose-bumps rise on my arms.
I changed into dry clothes as quickly as I could, feeling comforted by the clean, dry fabric.
It hadn’t really sunk in that I was lost; I was being awfully calm about the whole thing, acting like I woke up in the middle of a forest all the time and stuff. I took a sip of water from the bottle I had bought and then I ate four of the Oreos, licking the frosting off first and then eating the cookie like I used to do when I was a kid.
I started walking again, after that, moving in what I thought was probably the right direction. I was in a national forest, after all, so there must be nature trails or camping grounds somewhere.
It really was quiet. The only things I could hear were occasional chirping birds and the cracking of twigs as I stepped on them. Pine needles littered the ground under the trees, and the ground was mostly covered by patches of yellow and green grass, growing tall and wild.
The sky above was a deep blue color, cloudless after last night’s storm.
I started to climb up a steep slope, hoping there would be an overlooking view of the forest at the top. Stopping half-way up, I opened my backpack and took out the water bottle for another drink.
I did have a wrist watch on, and I knew it was Friday, so I should be able to keep my sanity for a while. Back in eighth grade, a friend and I read about a man in the newspaper who went crazy because he didn’t know the time. So, we came to the conclusion that without time, people of this century would go insane. This being realized, we vowed to wear watches every single day for the rest of our lives just to be safe. I don’t know if that friend of mine still wears a watch all the time, because she moved to Wisconsin, but I still stand by that promise we made to each other. Plus, I don’t want to go crazy.
The moment I turned to put away my water bottle is the moment I felt the ground disappear under my foot as I set it down.
I’m usually not one to scream. Not at concerts, not on roller coasters, not even yesterday when the car went off the road. I sometimes think that movies only have screaming to exaggerate the scariness. I mean, come on, screaming when someone’s trying to come find you to kill you? Not very smart.
The point, though, is that I didn’t scream when I tumbled forward and off a cliff. Yeah, girl falling off a cliff; pretty cutting-edge stuff, huh?
Fortunately, the ‘cliff’ was about five feet high and did not send me falling into shark-infested waters. I gave a weird grunt (that I hope I never give again) and put out my hands out to catch myself.
My hands were bent backwards as I continued into an unintentional somersault. I put my arms in front of my face as I rolled down a steep hill. Twigs and fallen pine needles scratched my hands and arms and poked my legs and torso through my jeans and t-shirt.
When I rolled to a stop, I was ready to start screaming. How many times did I have to fall?!
I looked up and my breath caught in my throat.
The feline was extremely large –six feet long, max, including the tail–but it was frightening, nevertheless. Its sleek light brown fur looked golden in the sunlight. Its eyes looked as if they were lined with kohl, and the tip of its tail looked like it had been dipped in black paint. It stood a few feet away, staring at me with greenish eyes.
I gulped and scrambled back.
The cougar’s tail flicked to the left but it didn’t move toward me. I stood up slowly and picked up my backpack and water bottle. It watched as I slipped the bottle into the side pocket and growled when I swung my backpack over my shoulder.
I didn’t dare move even as it took a step forward. Now I see why people never move when they’re in situations like this. Everything that you’ve been taught –scream if someone tries to kidnap you, for instance –it all flies right out of your head when you’re actually in that situation. No one ever thinks they might find themselves standing three feet away from a mountain lion with no one nearby to help, but here I was, anyway –here, and scared stiff.
My legs trembled and my palms were starting to sweat. I looked around quickly as the cougar just watched me.
“G-go away!” I yelled, waving my hands at it. I scooped a branch off the ground and brandished it like a sword.
The feline hissed and barred its teeth but took a step back.
“Away!” I shouted louder, making jabbing movements with the branch. I pointed off to the distance with my other hand and waved the branch some more.
The cougar growled and moved away.
I started to breathe a sigh of relief when it stopped and looked back at me.
“No! Keep going!” I said desperately, pointing the branch at it.
It didn’t move.
Maybe it detected the fear in my voice.
“Go!” I tried again, keeping my voice firm and commanding.
It looked away and then at me again before leaping away and disappearing over a smaller hill.
I dropped the branch and ran in the opposite direction, breathing hard. Tears of terror leaked from my eyes as I ran. It didn’t matter where I went, just as long as I got far, far away. I slowed down slightly a few minutes later and looked around.
Something made a noise behind a tree and sent me running again. My senses seemed to have become more sensitive while also numbing at the same time.
I noticed the small things; the slightest rustle of pine needles, a twig crunching, movement in my peripheral vision…but things like direction, time, and my own exhaustion did not seem to register.
I burst into a large clearing with a small sort of valley. Running down the hill at breakneck (or rather, leg) speed, and jumping off some parts to get to lower ground, I dropped to my knees at the bottom, probably bruising one of them, and bent over, panting.
Sweat trickled down my forehead and my wrists were sore from my fall before the cougar-incident. I turned and sat down. While I reached for my backpack, I realized I had dropped my damp clothes from the day before when I had fled.
I guzzled down some water and wiped my forehead with the front of my shirt. My head felt like it was radiating heat, but I resisted the urge to pour some water over my head. It was almost half-way empty and who knew how long I’d be lost.
My watch told me it was just past noon (I changed the time in Casper, as New York City was in a different time zone than Wyoming). My stomach was rumbling since my breakfast had only been four Oreos.
I was careful not to eat a lot –four more Oreos, was all I did. I had gotten one of those big packs of Oreos with thirty two of the cookies in it, but I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to live off Oreos.
Once I finished eating, I eyed the package for a moment before deciding on one more cookie. I took it out and then quickly put the package away before I could be tempted into taking one more (and then one more, and then one more, and then one more…). I stood up and picked up my backpack, nibbling on the edge of the chocolate cookie, and started walking again.
****
“I, I’ll get by… I, I’ll survive when the world’s crashing down, when I fall and hit the ground, I will turn myself around…. Don’t you try to stop me… I, I won’t cry-I-I…
I had already gone through all the songs I knew how to sing and know I was resorting to sing the chorus of Avril Lavigne’s ‘Alice’ to keep myself occupied. When I stopped singing, the silence of the forest started creeping me out.
Much to my dismay, I had not found a single nature trail or camping ground in the past few hours. I had wandered in one direction, thankfully not encountering any animals, singing and dragging myself onward.
I was lost, I was tired, and I was bored.
There must’ve been something I had done to deserve this. I’m not terribly superstitious, but I do believe in karma.
Was this how the forces of the universe were punishing me for stealing cookies from the cookie jar when I was a kid?
Worse yet, I really needed to go. Like, to the bathroom, kind of go.
I know in movies people dig holes and then do their business, but what was I supposed to use as TP?
That being said, I held it in.
“Get back on my feet, on the ground… Is this real? Is this pretend? I’ll take a stand until the end…” I tailed off and looked around, shivering. The stillness of the forest was intimidating. I swallowed my fears and sang louder, “WHEN THE WORLD’S CRASHING DOWN, WHEN I FALL AND HIT THE GROUND, I WILL TURN MYSELF AROUND… DON’T YOU TRY TO STOP ME! I, I WON’T CRY-I-I!”
My voice seemed even louder in the silence as I stopped and bit my lip nervously. The sun was beginning to set and soon it would be dark. As tired as I was, I didn’t want to fall asleep since I was beginning to develop paranoia. My theory was that if I fell asleep, a cougar or something would come and kill me in the middle of the night.
I trudged on until I could barely lift my feet, and then I shuffled forward. It wasn’t until I tripped over a branch in the darkness that I went and curled up at the base of a tree. The sun had dried the grass so it did not dampen my jeans.
When I took off my backpack, I remembered I had a sweater and so I took it out and put it on. I pulled the hood over my head and pulled at the strings to tighten it and then wrapped my arms around my backpack.
A bird whistled overhead and I closed my eyes, willing sleep to come quickly.
Hoot. Ca-craw! Ahhooo! Ai-ai-ee! Kreek, kreek, kreek!
I couldn’t tell what sound belonged to what animal and I shrunk back each time the noises came from nearby. My eye lids grew heavier and when I fell asleep, I dreamed of a vast, never ending white plain. I stood in the middle.
****
I was starving. My stomach rumbled every two seconds, demanding food.
It was Saturday morning, six o’clock. I had taken to checking my watch frequently; assuring myself that it had not been that long since I had last seen another human being.
I had woken up at three-twenty AM after sleeping for four hours, and had started walking again after finally getting the –ah –courage to go to the bathroom in the wilderness.
Now I stopped at the top of another hill (I had discovered that Teton National Forest seemed to be full of them) and sat down for breakfast.
I ended up eating nearly half of the remainder of my food. I counted and realized there were only thirteen left. Oops.
Let’s pause the story for a second. There I am, sitting on the top of a hill as the sun rises. I have an almost-empty package of Oreos in my lap. I’m wearing the red clothes I was going to wear when I got to Las Vegas. My hair is tangled and clumped up with dirt and leaves and what-have-you.
I was a mess, but I still believed I would get to Las Vegas by the next day. Fast forward through the story and you’ll find I was right.
But let’s rewind a little, first. It’s Sunday, noon. My Oreos have been gone for hours by now, and my water bottle is empty, too. I stink of dirt and sweat and my hair is even worse than before. My feet are sock-less in my red tennis shoes; I disposed of the first and second pair when they wouldn’t dry properly. It’s windy and I’ve got my backpack on my back and my hands balled up in my pockets. Yet I’m smiling faintly. Smiling because I’m standing on a road, waiting for a car to pass.
Let’s hit play again, now.
I looked up and down the road, grinding my teeth together. There isn’t a single vehicle in sight. I shuffled to the side a bit. I really didn’t want to move; I figured I’d walked enough. I still had that map of Wyoming in my backpack, but it was useless because I had no clue where I was; road signs seemed as scarce as cars.
“I, I’ll get by. I, I’ll survive.” I mumbled to myself. “When the world’s crashing down, when I fall and hit the ground… I will turn myself around; don’t you try to stop me… I… and I won’t…cry…”
When I was about to start singing the chorus for the fifth time, I saw it. Speeding along the highway was a green open-top Jeep.
“Yes! Yes!” I exclaimed, waving my arms.
The Jeep came to a stop in front of me and the driver looked over at me.
“Whoa. What happened to you?” As obnoxious as it sounded, the young, curly-haired man still managed to sound a little concerned. He was kind of cute, with those dark locks of hair and long eyelashes surrounding his green-blue eyes. His southern accent was a plus.
“I, uh… I’ve been hiking.” I said, biting my lip, “For, um, two days.”
“You’re wearin’ all red.” He informed me.
“I know.” I said, smiling a little, “Listen, could you tell me where I am?”
“Um, like, route 89?” He asked back, scratching his chin.
“Is Teton National Forest over here?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Uh…”
“Never mind. Is there an airport near here?”
“Yeah. Jackson Hole.” He nodded.
I eyed his Jeep, “Could you, eh, give me a ride there? I mean, if it’s not any trouble, of course. You could always, like, drop me off in the nearest town…Or I could maybe pay you?” I laughed self-consciously and hopefully.
He smiled revealing a cute little dimple on his left cheek, “Nah. It’s fine. Ah’m headin’ that way. Climb in.”
What luck.
I grinned, “Thank you so much.” I went around the front and opened the passenger door.
“I’m Ali.” I said, buckling the seat belt.
“Ah’m Jase.” he said, “This here is Cindy.” He patted the dashboard of the car.
“Hi Cindy.” I smiled, talking to the car, “I’m really glad you and Jase came by.”
Jase laughed and pulled off the side of the road, “so, is it common to hitch rides ‘round here?” He asked.
“What? Oh. I dunno. I’m um, from New York.” I said sheepishly.
“You need to get back there?” Jase asked.
I shook my head, “Nope. I’m going to Las Vegas.”
Jase raised his eyebrows but kept his eyes on the road, “Oh yeah? How come? Er, Ah mean, if it’s okay that Ah asked…”
“It’s alright. I’m going there to see my brother. My twin actually.” I said matter-of-factly.
“Really? You have a twin? That’s so cool. Do y’all look alike?”
It was about an hour before we arrived at Jackson Hole Airport. Jase was really nice. He was a traveling kind of guy, like Julien. He had saved up enough money to buy a car and then he had gotten Cindy, left his hometown in Tennessee, and had been driving around since, working odd jobs for money and sleeping in his Jeep. He was nineteen like me and he dreamed of becoming a country singer one day. I noticed he had a guitar case sitting in the backseat and Jase said the guitar was named Peter Pan.
I told him about everything that had happened, from Julien’s call, to my trip through the wilderness. He listened quietly and patiently, dropping in his own input every few minutes.
Jase pulled up behind a line of cars in front of the airport and cut the engine. “Time tah say good-bye, Ah guess.” He said.
“Thanks a lot, Jase.” I said, unbuckling my seat belt, “It was a pleasure meeting you. Really.”
“Pleasure tah meet you, too.” Jase smiled, “And can ah tell you somethin’?”
“Yeah?”
“Ah think you should clean up before yah try getting’ any tickets.” He gave me a dimpled smile.
“Good idea.” I laughed, stepping out of the car, “Bye, Jase.”
“Maybe one day Ah’ll be famous and yah’ll see me on TV.” He said, starting up the engine.
“Yeah? Think you’ll remember me?”
“The weird gal with the red clothes an’ who was standing on the side of the road in the middle a nowhere? Nah. Ah don’t think Ah will.” Jase laughed, pulling away, “Bye, Ali!” He called as he drove away.
I smiled and shook my head, turning toward the airport.
Destination number one: The bathroom. I washed my face and tried to do my hair in the sink and then wiped away some dirt with a damp paper towel. A few people gave me weird looks, but I cleaned the sink and the area around it and since some people there smelled worse than I did, they had no reason to complain.
I cupped my hands together under the running water and brought it up to my mouth for a sip. Finding it good to drink, I pulled out my empty water bottle and filled it to the top with water.
I bought a ticket to Las Vegas using money I had taken out of my bank account using an ATM, and then I used some of the left over money at McDonald’s to buy myself a Happy Meal, just because I thought it was ironic. From McDonald’s, I went over to Burger King and bought a bigger meal.
The flight to Las Vegas was better than the one to Casper. It was three-thirty when the plane touched down onto the runway, so I played tourist for a few hours, following random strangers through Sin City, seeing the Sites To See…
At eight-fifty-seven, I stood at the end of the Bellagio Fountain in front of the actual hotel. And then I waited for my twin in red.
****
I lean back in my chair, stretching my back. I’ve been typing for a long time and I’ve filled many pages with writing. I click the SAVE icon on the word processor and stand up. My eyes are sore from staring at the computer screen and I rub them as I open my bedroom door. It’s been hours.
I can hear the apartment door opening and keys jingling; my mother is home.
“Hey Mom!” I call as I walk down the hall.
“Oh, Ali! You’re home already? I thought you would still be vacationing!” She appears in the kitchen at the same time I do and she sets her purse down on the counter.
“Yeah, well, you know…” I shrug and give her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh honey! You look exhausted… What happened to your head?” She reaches out and brushes my hair away from the bruise there.
“Mom,” I say, stepping back quickly, “I just got hit on the head…”
“What?” she says, looking alarmed. She tries to see my forehead again, but I duck away.
“You know… by a… volleyball…” I lie, “I bruise easily, you know…”
“Alright, honey. You should go to bed, you still look tired.” Mom smiles that Aw-You-Poor-Thing smile.
“Later.” I waved my hand dismissively, “Anyway, you’re home really early. What’s up with that?”
Mom laughs, a happy sound I haven’t heard in a while, “My boss forced me to stop working so late…So, I’ll be around more.” She smiles, looking satisfied by this, and drifts out of the room.
I take a mug from the rack by the sink and fill it with water. The phone rings and I holler, “I’ll get it!” I take a quick sip of water and then grab the phone, “Hello?”
“Ali?”
“Julien.” I state, frowning.
“Listen, Ali, I’m sorry-”
“You promised, Julien.” I remind him, “You lied.”
“Yeah, Ali, I’m really sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut, it, Julien.” I sneer, suddenly angry. He had no idea what I had gone through to get to Las Vegas, only to get stood up.
“Ali, just listen-”
“No you listen, Julien.” I cut in, “I don’t care about you stupid excuses right now. I’m tired. Good bye.” I say forcefully, hitting the off button quickly. I hang up the phone and pick up my mug.
There’s a window over the sink and I stare out of it, a frown still set upon my face.
Julien, I realized, was not finished playing out his little adventure that he had started two years ago. He could keep on running around, for all I cared, but I had had enough. He had promised he would be there. And he had lied.
“Ali?”
I turn around and find my mother standing in the doorway.
“Hey, Mom.” I sigh.
“Who was that, Ali?” she asks.
“Mom,” I say, putting down my mug, “I haven’t exactly been vacationing for the past few days.”
“What?” she asks, raising her eyebrows.
“Let’s sit down. It’s kind of a long story.” I say nervously.
We travel over to the kitchen table and sit down across from each other. The sun is setting outside, and orange rays of light leak into the room through the window.
“I…” Don’t start yet, I think to myself. You don’t know what you’re going to say. Don’t let it come out wrong.
Mom watches me, a mix of curiosity and confusion on her face.
“Julien… called on Wednesday.” I sigh, “And he said he wanted to see me.” Before I know it, the words are flowing once more. I just talk, twisting my hands together in my lap under the table. I recount everything, from the delayed flight in Casper, all the way up until the phone call just now and my theory and realization on why Julien stood me up.
When I’m finished, I look up at my mother. Her eyes have gone all watery, and I pray silently that she won’t start crying.
Then the corners of her mouth curve upward, “I’m proud of you, Ali.” She says, “You did the right thing.”
Right thing? When? What was she talking about? I sit there, stunned.
“When Julien finishes with his ‘little adventure’, as you call it, he’ll call for real. And then we can all be a good, nice family again, okay?”
I still don’t quite understand why she’s proud of me; I crashed a car, basically lied to her, and come home without Julien, but I smile anyway, “’Kay, Mom; sounds good,” because it does, even though it doesn’t seem like anything like any of that ‘good, nice family’ business will be happening in the near future.
She walks around the table and we hug.
“That Jase boy sounded like a nice fellow. Did you get his number?” Mom suddenly asks.
“Mom!” I exclaim, laughing.
We laugh together for a longer time than necessary, just standing there. Then we go on with our lives, bustling around the kitchen, yelling suggestions for dinner. And I hope that one day Julien will be part of our lives again. Not now, maybe, but one day he’ll keep his promise.
I, I’ll get by
I, I’ll survive
When the world’s crashing down,
When I fall and hit the ground,
I will turn myself around
Don’t you try to stop me!
I… and I won’t cry…
when I said no novels do you think this could sneakily bypass for an extra long short story? Could you please, oh I don't know, break it up slightly (part one, part two) so my brain doesn't frazzle? If not you WILL get your review, it'll just take a long time *sighs, this story better be good 
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