From Chapter Six of Pearls in the Mountains

Chapter Six

Sammy had a lowland boil going. His large wrap around deck was arranged with tables and chairs everywhere. It was probably closer to five o’clock than four, and the crowd was already there, people and dogs scattered around in different conversations. Some were river people. Some were hikers from the A.T., mainly section hikers that hang out most of the season at the hostel next door. This was a place of rich stories, filled with very skilled story tellers. And a lot of booze. And a lowland boil…
“Damn, Sammy! You’re going all out!” I said.
“Hey! Hey! How was your trip?”
I let Mary answer for us while I ran back toward the driveway chasing after Mollie. So embarrassing. Someone left the gate open and she was making a bee-line toward the river, with the road in between. Charlie grabbed her as he was walking up, and we hung out for a while having a beer and passing a bowl. Mary was making the rounds with Sammy, literally meeting everybody. So I took Mollie down to the river with me and pulled the cooler out of the raft. There wasn’t much ice left, but there were still a few beers swimming around with the food. I brought it all up to donate to the cause, and grabbed a beer for Mary, but she already had one, legs crossed, waist deep in a conversation about her studio in Atlanta. Mary was popular with everyone that night. It isn’t every day that you get to hang out with a world famous ballet dancer. I was thoroughly happy to just sit and listen. She told her own stories about a rich, exemplary life that leaves you saying “Wow” over and over.
The boil was a huge success. We all feasted until we were stuffed, rosy cheeks over smiles, and no left overs remained on the soaked newspaper. The tempo of the conversations started ramping up. People were gauging their heads, taking inventory of their alcohol, and making last trips out to resupply. It was time to get the bus. Mary wanted to ride with me. “You can drive alright?”
“Yeah, I only had one beer.” I drink pretty slowly. “Besides, it’s ‘ride,’ not ‘drive.’”
“Smart ass.” She laughed. We had a beautiful trip over the mountain. We made love in the bus while the sky gave up the last of its light. The moon was a little further away, but would be around soon. We climbed on top with camping chairs and sat on the roof rack to share a bowl. We talked as two lovers. My resolves began to melt away like those mists in the morning sun. Our tones drifted ever more intimate. Eye-contact began to dominate our conversations. And beautiful, rich silences.
She had the LED lights dimmed above her again as we climbed the mountain. Legs crossed once more. Looking at me. Mary was in love. She didn’t say anything. She just rode and looked into me through the mirror above me, smiling. I wished that motorcycle wasn’t in the way.
Things were in full swing when we got back. The dogs didn’t miss us at all. Bourbon was going around. Moonshine was going around. Rum was going around. Revelry rising. Mary and I were arm-in-arm, leaned against the handrail, volleying stories back and forth with a handful of friends. In another place we were at a tall bar table, me sitting and her backed up between my legs, standing in front of me. I was feeling it too. I enjoyed her wanting to make physical contact. We found each other in different rooms and touched going by. As the night wore on though, it seemed like her bubble popped and she looked tired. She was quieter. But it was a fast, fun ride for her up to that point. I asked if she wanted to go back to the RV. She said no, but I reminded her that I had to work in the morning. I was fine with going to bed early. Preferred to. We had the old wrought iron bed on the deck, but people wouldn’t be going home for quite some time. Besides, someone else might need that bed. “In this industry, every night is a Friday night,” I said. She gave in. She wanted to leave, it was clear, so we grabbed the dogs and left quietly and unnoticed.
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“It’s OK. You had a full day. Tons of surfing. Sunshine. Alcohol. A big meal. Lovemaking. You should be tired.”
“It isn’t that.”
“What?” I asked. We lay in bed, party noises outside.
“It’s so crowded. She is everywhere here. I can feel it. I can see it. Everyone is talking to me, but you can see how there is so much more they have to say. You can tell they are thinking about her, whoever she is, and being polite to me.” I started to say something, but Mary stopped me. We lay in more silence. Every noise from the party felt to me like it cut her now. She was crying and I was struggling to understand. To find a solution. Something I could say to “fix” it. I tried, but Mary shut me down again. “It’s not your fault, Joe. I just feel like I’m in someone’s shadow. Every turn, your flood, the high water line. Tell me more about Sadie, please. I like it when you talk about Lucas and Sadie. How did they die?”
“Oh, Mary. That’s too sad to talk about right now.”
“But I’m sad, Joe,” she prompted me. I thought about it for a minute.
“When is the twenty-first?”
“It’s tomorrow,” she replied.
“Everything happens on the twenty-first. It was the twenty-first when I met him. It was the twenty-first when we went rafting for the first time. There were other things. It was the twenty-first when he was killed. Eleven years ago tomorrow.”
“What about Sadie? What happened?”
“It was a head-on collision. He was killed almost instantly. The other driver was drunk and crossed the line. He died on the scene too. John. Sadie was at home.”
“You knew the drunk driver?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, very well. He was one of my closest friends.”
“Oh God, Joe.” Mary said. “I’m sorry…Sadie was at home?” What did she do?”
“Sadie was in the house. The accident happened while Lucas was making a right turn into the driveway. She saw it.” Mary gripped me tightly.
“Oh no…” she whispered.
“Sadie was a fragile piece of glass, already broken, really. She killed herself the next night. In the Spring-green grass under an April moon. She sliced so deeply into her wrist that I can’t imagine her pain. I just can’t. That’s when I started thinking about the story under the story, and how I could never know what she was going through, no matter how well I knew her. We don’t know anyone’s story. We don’t even know our own…we only know the part that keeps us ‘sane.’ Sadie was a silent mystery with another universe going on inside of her…and some hell underneath it all.”
“You saw the cuts?”
“I found her. Just a few short hours later, really, lying in the morning sun, covered in dew.” Mary sobbed quietly until she fell asleep, the sobs subsiding into deep, metered breaths, while I stared at the dark ceiling above.
I was up early the next morning. I had coffee by the river, sitting in the raft, while the dogs snoozed with Mary in the bus. I watched the fog lift as the day slowly took over the dark, and did nothing but sit as still as possible. The mind is phenomenal though, and wouldn’t be still at all, as I wrestled with things. Things in the present. Things in the past. I had déjà vu but tried to do things differently from what was bubbling up in my mind. Fuck fate, I thought. I can be a little spicy in the mornings.
I found myself de-rigging the raft and carrying things up the hill to stage by the bus. I brought the raft up last, balanced on my shoulders like a turtle shell. Mary was up when I stepped back inside. She showed me a fresh cup of coffee and then slowly wrapped herself around me without speaking. We grabbed our shower bags and walked up to Sammy’s house.
While Mary was in the shower, I started packing the gear into the bus. Charlie showed up. I had offered him a ride to the French Broad River the night before. He was working that rafting trip too. He helped load the raft and other gear onto the top of the bus and was a big help. I found Mary at Sammy’s, quietly picking up garbage. People were still asleep. I helped her until one whole side was picked up, and then led her back to the bus to have breakfast. I was surprised and disappointed to not see Sammy. He must have really tied it on because he was always up before daylight with me. Wherever I am, there is always one.
The drive took about an hour. Charlie and I caught up. Mollie spent most of the ride in his lap. I didn’t like talking around the motorcycle. We met the rest of the gang at the French Broad outpost and immediately got to work with gear. Jackets had to come out. Paddles and helmets too. Rafts had to be inflated and loaded. The customers would start arriving soon.
Mary was in the middle of it all again. Conversations. Work. Everyone there had been at Sammy’s. But as the morning went on she became more quiet. At the time, I wasn’t concerned at all, but that changed as it got later. I had two trips. Mary sat in the back with me while I did my job of maneuvering the raft and trying to entertain the guests. She felt more and more distant and became less responsive when I talked to her. I was pretty sure what she was wrestling with, and I hadn’t anticipated it. The more I said to her and the guests, the more she pulled away, and as the day grew late, I was reluctant to even talk at all. I wasn’t surprised when she disappeared into the bus as soon as we got back from the second trip. It took an hour to put everything away, but she didn’t come out a single time. Charlie was the last one to leave when it was all done. We didn’t say anything. We just looked at each other for a moment and then he nodded his head and turned to climb into the SUV with the other guides. I watched as they drove away. Charlie and I were about as tight as Lucas and me at one time. A long time ago.