Amy And Roger's Epic Detour Part 2

But when we were in the car, their private world of books didn't bother me for once. Because my father and I had our own routine in the front seat, and I had responsibilities.

He had taught me to read a map about the time I was learning to read, and I was always the navigator. "All right, my Sancho Panza," he'd say. "Tell us our course." I had no idea what he was talking about, but I didn't care. I was important. I was in charge of making sure we were going the right way and, if there was traffic or a road closed, finding an alternate route. When a CD needed changing, I was in charge of putting in the next one. But it wasn't like there was a lot to choose from. Generally, when my father was driving, it was all Elvis, all the time.

He'd put two packs of Life Savers in the cup holder, and I was allowed to have as many as I wanted, provided that when he held out his hand, I was ready to unwrap one and drop it in his palm.

Charlie kicked my seat again, this time a repet.i.tive pattern that grew increasingly annoying. Rather than giving him the satisfaction of turning around again, I just stared straight ahead and helped myself to another Wint-O-Green.

Whenever it was just the three of us, Charlie became especially annoying. He was always more fidgety than I was, and reading was the only thing that had ever calmed him down.

The kicking grew harder, and I whirled around in my seat again. "Stop it!" it!"

"Come on, son," my father said, looking behind him. "Tell you what-you can pick out the magnet this time, how about that?"

"Whatever," Charlie muttered, but he sat up a little straighter and stopped kicking.

"And do we see it approaching?" asked my father, turning down "Hound Dog" for the occasion. I looked out the window to my left, and there it was. Yosemite. There was the small wooden guardhouse, and the guard in his green uniform outside it, collecting twenty dollars from every car that pa.s.sed through and giving them a permit and a map. Then he would wave us through the gate, allowing us to enter another world. I tipped my head back as far as it would go to look up at the trees.

"We see it," Charlie called from the backseat, and I held my breath, waiting for my father to say what he always said when we pa.s.sed through the gates.

"We're back," he said, "you glorious old pile of rocks. Did you miss us?"

I'd like to dream my troubles all away on a bed of California stars.

-Wilco.

"Wow," Roger said as we stepped out of the reservations office. "Bears, huh?"

"Bears," I confirmed. I was relieved that there had been a cabin available at all. Apparently, most people made reservations for their cabins months in advance, something that hadn't occurred to me, as my father had always taken care of that. But they'd had a cancellation, and we'd gotten the last available cabin. Not the kind of cabin we always used to stay in, but one of the canvas-tent cabins. It had only one bed, which I was trying not to think about at the moment. But it had taken us so long to get there-and then an hour just to get to Camp Curry once we'd reached the Yosemite gates-that having to turn around would have been really depressing.

After we'd paid for the room, we'd had to watch a video of a bear mauling a station wagon, then sitting on the ground and eating the chips the owners of the station wagon had left behind at their car's peril. Watching it, I actually wondered why the camera operator didn't do something, or at least send someone to warn the station-wagon family. But the message we were meant to take away was that bears at Yosemite were dangerous, especially to vehicles. And then we'd had to sign releases saying that we wouldn't sue if our car got mauled, even if we had had taken the chips out. taken the chips out.

We walked back over to the main parking lot, down by the Curry Dining Pavilion-what we'd always called the lodge. Although it was growing dark, there was still enough light to see to get around. Which was a good thing, because when it got dark at Yosemite, it got dark dark. There were no lights around anywhere, except by the lodge. Which made it easier to see the stars, but harder to find your cabin. As we walked down the paved path, I noticed Roger looking up, mouth hanging slightly open. I looked up as well, at the scenery that I could still make out. Even though it wasn't my first time there, Yosemite was still stunning. There were mountains and huge, ancient trees everywhere, making you feel tiny. The air was clearer, and crisper, and had always made me want to take more deep breaths. It had always seemed to me to be a place apart, with none of the normal rules that applied elsewhere. For example, having to take your shampoo out of your car to stave off hungry wildlife.

We packed up all the snacks, and took my one suitcase and Roger's two out of the car. Then we set off to find Cabin 9. I soon realized, when the paved path turned to gravel and wood chips, that there was a reason most people coming to Yosemite didn't bring big rolling suitcases. Mine kept getting caught on the wood chips and flipping over, and refusing to roll. Not to mention the fact that the people walking by-the ones who'd prepared to be at Yosemite, carrying flashlights and wearing fleece vests-probably thought I looked ridiculous. But I finally got it up to the cabin, where Roger was standing outside, looking down at his phone.

"All set?" he asked, looking a little distracted.

"Yep," I said, then inwardly cursed myself. The cabin, as advertised, was made of white canvas, with a green-painted door. A set of four steps and a railing, also painted green, led up to it. The bear locker was at the bottom of the steps. Roger and I went through our things and locked anything that bears might think was food-that is, everything everything-inside the metal box, making sure that it was latched closed. I looked at it a little dubiously. The cabins we used to stay in hadn't had these, and I wasn't confident that this little metal box could withstand hungry bears, especially when station wagons were no match for them. I also didn't like the fact that it was so close to the cabin. Wasn't that kind of like setting the appetizer right next to the main course?

Trying not to follow this line of thought to its conclusion, I took the small bra.s.s key they'd given me and opened the cabin door. I found the light switch just inside and turned it on. The cabin was very small, with the one bed taking up most of the room. The bed was metal, painted white, and unmade, with a set of sheets and two gray scratchy-looking blankets resting on top. Clearly these were not luxury accommodations. But the bed looked small small. I doubted it was even queen-size.

"Rustic," Roger said, looking around at the cabin, which was the same white canvas on the inside, with green-painted wooden beams crossing it. There was a chair in the corner, and a wooden dresser with a wood-framed mirror. And that was it. "But I'd expect nothing less," he added, setting down his duffel bag and backpack and taking out his phone again.

I looked back at the bed, which seemed to be drawing all my attention. "Look," I said haltingly, not exactly sure where I was going with this. "About the bed situation ..." I didn't want him to think that I'd wanted wanted a cabin with only one bed. "I'm really sorry about it." a cabin with only one bed. "I'm really sorry about it."

"Why?" asked Roger. "Do you snore?" He smiled as he asked this, but I could see that he was blus.h.i.+ng a little. "And it's just for tonight."

"Right," I said. Since we hadn't actually left the state of California, but had just moved up it-when we were supposed to be in New Mexico-I knew we were going to have to do a lot of driving tomorrow. But presumably, wherever we ended up, there would be two separate hotel rooms.

"My only thing is that I have to sleep on the right side," he said. "My girlfriend-" He stopped and cleared his throat. After a moment, he continued, "Well, I mean my ex-girlfriend, she always had to sleep on the left. So I guess it's just ingrained."

"Oh," I said, turning over what he'd just said. That right now he was single. But that there had been a girl in the picture, one who'd changed his sleeping habits. And that the way he said "girlfriend" sounded a lot like the way I said "parents."

Even though I hadn't realized I'd formed an opinion, I guess I'd just a.s.sumed that Roger had a girlfriend. He seemed too cute and too nice not to have one. And there was just something about him that made him seem taken. The fact that he wasn't suddenly made me a little nervous.

"Well, the left is fine for me," I said, hoping it would be. I had never stayed the night in Michael's dorm room, so I hadn't shared a bed with anyone since Julia, when we were in seventh grade and sleeping over at each other's houses every weekend. I had no idea what it would be like to share a bed with a guy. Especially a cute, older, apparently single guy.

"Awesome," Roger said, still sounding distracted. "So, I'm going to make a phone call." He headed for the door.

"You can make one here," I said, taking my own cell out of my pocket to check for bars and seeing I had a missed call from my mother. "There's reception."

"No, that's okay," he said, speaking quickly. "I'll give you some time to get settled, and then I'll meet you down by the lodge, okay?"

"Oh," I said, realizing a moment too late that he obviously wanted privacy to make the call. "Sure."

He was out of the cabin a second later, raising one hand to me in a wave and letting the door bang shut behind him. I waited a moment, then snapped off the lights and stepped out of the cabin, locking it behind me. Then I sat on the top step and looked around, s.h.i.+vering slightly. I'd forgotten how cool it could get, even in the summer. It was almost totally dark out, but the trees were casting their shadows on the ground because the moon was out-and it was incredibly bright and clear. I could see Half Dome, Yosemite's most famous mountain, to my left, and it was all achingly familiar.

It was just me-and who I was with-that was completely different. "I'm back," I said softly, "you glorious old pile of rocks. Did you miss me?"

"Hi, you've reached Pamela Curry. Please leave a message with your name and number, and I will return your call as soon as I am able. Thank you."

Beep.

"Hi, Mom, it's Amy. I guess I missed you. Darn. But things are fine. The drive was fine. And now we are at our hotel and checked in and everything. So everything is going according to plan! I'll try to talk to you tomorrow. Tell Grandma hi for me."

I stood on the steps outside the cabin and tried to make myself go inside. This had been going on for a while now. I knew that with every minute that pa.s.sed, Roger was probably thinking I was having some sort of intestinal problem, since I'd left to walk to the bathrooms to get ready for bed about twenty minutes ago.

I thought I'd be okay with the whole sleeping-in-the-same-bed thing when the moment came. I really did. I'd met Roger at the lodge, where we'd had dinner and been talked at by two incredibly loquacious dentists from Palm Desert. Then we'd watched the evening entertainment, an informational video on Yosemite and Its History Yosemite and Its History, and then we'd headed back to Cabin 9 to go to bed.

I'd even been fine with it when Roger had gone out to the bathrooms to get ready. It was only when he came back, wearing a blue and gray Colorado College T-s.h.i.+rt and a pair of black mesh shorts, that the reality of it hit me. Not only would I have to sleep next to Roger, but I would have to sleep next to him while he wore pretty much just his underwear.

I gaped for a moment, then grabbed my own sleep things, retrieved my toiletries from the bear locker, and headed to the bathrooms to get changed. The bathrooms were located down the path from our cabin, and I walked down it, keeping an ear out for the sound of bears and trying to seem as unappetizing as possible. I put on the least-revealing sleepwear I had-sweatpants and a long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt-then brushed my teeth and washed my face, taking my time, hoping against all odds that by the time I got back, the reservations office would have miraculously found another cabin.

But I knew this wasn't really a possibility. I'd locked my things in the bear locker and was now trying to get myself to open the door and go inside.

I just didn't want want to. I didn't want to have to sleep in the same bed with someone I barely knew. I wanted to be back home, in my own bed, with my parents down the hall and Charlie next door. I'd just always a.s.sumed those constants, so basic, would never change. I hadn't even realized they were anything special at the time. And now I would have given anything to be back there again. to. I didn't want to have to sleep in the same bed with someone I barely knew. I wanted to be back home, in my own bed, with my parents down the hall and Charlie next door. I'd just always a.s.sumed those constants, so basic, would never change. I hadn't even realized they were anything special at the time. And now I would have given anything to be back there again.

Amy! was probably having a burger right now with her football-playing boyfriend, and her biggest concern was that zit on her cheek that just wouldn't wouldn't go away, darn it! go away, darn it!

I heard Roger moving around inside the cabin, and I knew I was going to have to go in eventually. I took a breath and opened the door, feeling my palms get sweaty. I saw that Roger had made the bed, and neatly, the top blanket folded down. He was sitting on the bed, on the right side. I set my clothes down on top of my suitcase and walked around to the left side of the bed, feeling incredibly self-conscious and wondering what it was that I normally did with my hands. As I got to my side of the bed, I saw that Roger's T-s.h.i.+rt had risen up a little, exposing a strip of his back above his shorts. I looked away quickly, wondering what to do. Should I sit on the bed as well? Pull back the blanket? Wait for him to get under the covers first?

Roger turned to me. "Everything okay?" he asked. "I was starting to get worried a bear got you."

"Oh, ha ha," I said, trying for a light laugh but, even I could hear, failing miserably. "No, I'm fine. I was just, um ..." I had no idea how to finish that sentence, so I didn't even try, and it just hung there in midair between us. "Thanks for making the bed," I said finally. "You didn't have to."

"It was no big deal," Roger said with a smile. He stood and looked at me for a moment, taking in my outfit. "You look hot."

"What? Me?" I stammered, completely flummoxed.

"Yeah," he said, still looking at me.

What? Was this some kind of come-on or something? Right before we were about to sleep in the same bed? Like this wasn't complicated enough already. "Oh. Um, thank you. I mean, not that you don't, but I'm not sure that you should-I mean ..." Was this some kind of come-on or something? Right before we were about to sleep in the same bed? Like this wasn't complicated enough already. "Oh. Um, thank you. I mean, not that you don't, but I'm not sure that you should-I mean ..."

"Oh, no," Roger said quickly, and I could see that he was blus.h.i.+ng again. "No. I mean-I meant what you're wearing. Are you going to be too warm?"

Oh. I momentarily wondered if it would be possible to get one of the bears lurking outside to come in and kill me. "Oh, right," I said, trying to force my voice to stay upbeat. "Um, I think I'll be okay. I always get pretty cold here at night." Roger nodded and stretched, revealing a flat strip of stomach this time, and I looked away again, wis.h.i.+ng that he could have worn a slightly longer s.h.i.+rt. "Are you going to be okay?" I asked. "Warm enough, I mean?"

"Oh, sure," he said, pulling back the covers on his side. Relieved to have some direction, I pulled them back on my side as well. "I'm always hot at night. Hadley used to call me the s.p.a.ce heater."

I walked over to the door, checked that it was locked, and turned out the light. But because of the white walls, and the moonlight filtering in, there was still enough light to see to get back to my side of the bed. Roger got in, and I climbed in as well, staying as far over as possible on my side while still actually being on the bed. I kept both arms pressed against my sides and looked up at the ceiling, acutely aware of how close together we were. I could have reached out and touched him without even extending my arm. I could feel the rhythm of his breathing. "Hadley?" I asked after a moment, figuring this was the ex-girlfriend-the one whose side of the bed I was now occupying.

"Yeah," said Roger, and I could hear a strain in his voice. "My girlfriend. My ex ex-girlfriend," he corrected immediately, sounding annoyed with himself. "She ... she was just ..."

I waited, turning my head slightly to look over at him, but apparently what Hadley was wasn't going to be articulated. Roger sighed deeply, then tucked his arms behind his head. I took in the gun show for a moment, then looked fixedly up at the ceiling.

"What about you?" he asked, turning his head toward me. "Is there anyone in the picture?"

I immediately thought of Michael, but wasn't sure how he fit into any picture I wanted to tell Roger about. "Um, not really," I said. Then, thinking that made me sound too pathetic, I added, "I mean, there was this guy, but it was just ... I mean it was mostly just ... I mean, it wasn't really ..." I stopped, wondering where all my adjectives, nouns, and verbs had gone. Mr. Collins would not have approved. "I don't know," I finally concluded brilliantly. "Not really."

I looked over and saw that Roger was now on his side, facing me, curled up a little bit. I usually slept-or tried to sleep-on my side as well. I looked up at the ceiling, mentally preparing myself for another long night. I'd started having insomnia for the first time in my life over the last month. I'd lie awake for hours before finally giving up and going to watch the Weather Channel. For whatever reason, I found it soothing-the preciseness of it, the way it essentially predicted the future. I liked that the meteorologists could tell people across the country what their days and weeks would bring. They were preparing people, letting them know that a storm might be coming toward them. And that way, you weren't caught totally off guard and unprepared when it finally hit you. After watching the Doppler radar for a while, I could usually doze off for an hour or two. But here, without the seven-day forecast, with bears potentially hanging around outside, and sharing a bed with Roger, I knew I wouldn't be getting any sleep.

"Well, good night, Amy," Roger said.

"Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bears bite," I added automatically. It was how my father and Charlie and I had always said good night when we were here. I hadn't thought about it in years, and yet there it was, just waiting for the right prompt.

Roger laughed, a quieter version of the laugh I'd heard earlier. "Right," he said. "You too." I saw his eyes close and figured he'd probably be asleep immediately. I felt irrationally envious of him-someone who could just drift off, someone whose thoughts didn't keep him up. Someone like I'd once been.

Roger's breathing got more even, and slower, and I could feel myself start to relax a little on my side of the bed. There was a little stretch of bed between us that Roger didn't seem to be drifting toward. Moving as incrementally as I could, I turned myself over to lie on one side, facing Roger, and curled up.

And even though I knew that sleep was going to be impossible, I let my eyes close as well.

The next thing I knew, I was awake again. I squinted at my watch and was shocked to see that it was three a.m. I'd fallen asleep-even without the benefit of the Doppler radar. I sat up and looked around. The cabin was darker than it had been before-maybe the moon was behind a cloud-and I was alone in bed. I immediately felt myself begin to panic, which was ironic, considering how much I hadn't wanted to share the bed in the first place. But now it felt much too big. I was starting to run though a list in my head of where Roger could have gone-the bathroom, off to do a little late-night stargazing-when I heard his voice outside. I looked to the door and saw that it was slightly ajar, and I could hear him talking.

"Hey, Hadley," I heard him say, "it's me again." I looked around and wondered what I should do. Turn on my iPod? I knew I wasn't supposed to hear this, but at the same time, I really, really wanted to. Before I could make a decision, Roger continued. He sounded nervous.

"So I guess you're not in. Or maybe you're sleeping. I guess it's pretty late there. Or early. So if this woke you, I'm sorry...." He paused. "I'm up in the mountains in California, and the stars are so beautiful here. I wish you could see them. I'm ..." His voice trailed off. "I just don't understand what happened, Had. Or why you haven't been in touch. It's not really like you. So I ... I don't know. Anyway, give me a call if you get this, okay?"

I waited to hear him say good-bye, but nothing followed that. Figuring that he'd be heading in soon, I lay back down and closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn't know I'd heard him.

But the next time I opened my eyes, it was fully light out, and I could hear birds-some chirping, some squawking-all around me. I looked at my watch and saw that it was eight o'clock. I looked across the bed at Roger, his head just a hand's distance away from mine. He was sleeping soundly, the covers falling off his shoulder. I watched him for a moment, hoping this wasn't creepy, just taking in what it was like to see someone when they looked so peaceful, when all their defenses were down. I looked away, then rolled out of bed and stretched. I'd just slept more soundly than I had in months.

You'll be missed, Miss California.

-Jack's Mannequin.

After Roger woke up, we headed to the lodge, a building I'd always loved. It was stone, with an enormous fireplace where people tended to congregate. Between the wooden decor and the constantly burning fire, it was the kind of place that made you want to curl up with hot chocolate, even in July. And decorating it were pictures of my long-ago ancestors, who'd descended on Yosemite more than a century before and set up a camp for profit. Eventually it had been made part of the park. It seemed like the main thing my ancestors had been responsible for was the "Firefall," in which flame was poured, nightly, down a chute carved into a mountain. The Firefall was stopped in the sixties, mostly because people were amazed that it hadn't killed anyone yet. After I'd given Roger the brief tour of my family history, we ate breakfast.

Or, more accurately, I I ate breakfast. Roger ate the kind of meal usually reserved for holiday dinners and people with tapeworms. Luckily, it was a buffet, and all-you-can-eat, a policy I had a feeling they might be revising after our visit. As Roger came back with his third heaping plateful-this one focused on various meat groups-he raised his eyebrows at my plate. "Is that all you're eating?" he asked. ate breakfast. Roger ate the kind of meal usually reserved for holiday dinners and people with tapeworms. Luckily, it was a buffet, and all-you-can-eat, a policy I had a feeling they might be revising after our visit. As Roger came back with his third heaping plateful-this one focused on various meat groups-he raised his eyebrows at my plate. "Is that all you're eating?" he asked.

"It is," I said, taking a sip of orange juice. I'd already had oatmeal, two m.u.f.fins, and a banana, which seemed like more than enough for me. "I'm pretty full."

Roger shook his head. "You should carb up," he said. He settled into his chair, picked up the Yosemite Guide Yosemite Guide we'd taken on our way in, and began reading it while eating a piece of sausage. "There's a lot going on today-hiking, walks, something called Badger Pa.s.s-and you're going to need the energy." we'd taken on our way in, and began reading it while eating a piece of sausage. "There's a lot going on today-hiking, walks, something called Badger Pa.s.s-and you're going to need the energy."

He handed me the paper, and I pretended to read it as I looked at him over the top of it. "So how'd you sleep last night?" I asked as casually as I could.

"Great," Roger said, but I noticed that he was concentrating very hard on his Canadian bacon. "I was out like a light. How about you?"

"Oh, fine," I said lightly. I looked across at him and realized that there was more to Roger than I'd a.s.sumed. And that I was not the only liar sitting at the table.

"Hi, it's Amy's phone. Leave a message and I'll get back to you. Thanks!"

Beep.

"Hi, Amy, it's your mother. I guess we're playing phone tag. Glad you made it to New Mexico, and I hope by now you two are well on your way to Oklahoma. I called the Gallup Holiday Inn to make sure you'd checked in, but they had no record of you. But I didn't get the impression the desk clerk really knew what she was doing. So just call me back so I'll know everything's on track."

"This is beautiful," Roger said, stretching his legs in front of him and looking around. We were sitting on the outside patio of the Curry lodge, taking in the scenery-the enormous pines, the stunning mountains, the sunlight filtering through the trees. We'd checked out of the cabin and put our things back in the car, but we were close enough to it that we would be able to see if some hungry-looking bears came wandering by. Roger held up his hand to block out the sun and pushed himself to his feet. "Sungla.s.ses needed," he said, pulling the car keys out of his pocket. He looked down at me. "Want me to get yours?"

Yosemite Hike-u Led by Ranger Carl Welcome to this place of Serenity and Natural Beauty! The Hike-u tradition has been around for seven years now, and it is one of our favorite parts of the Yosemite hiking program. Throughout the hike, we will have designated stopping times where you can record your Feelings on the paper below. Please try to keep to the 5/7/5 pattern. Keep longer Pieces and Ideas for the Sunset Sonnet Stroll or the Couples' Couplet Const.i.tutional. The Hike-u tradition has been around for seven years now, and it is one of our favorite parts of the Yosemite hiking program. Throughout the hike, we will have designated stopping times where you can record your Feelings on the paper below. Please try to keep to the 5/7/5 pattern. Keep longer Pieces and Ideas for the Sunset Sonnet Stroll or the Couples' Couplet Const.i.tutional.

ENJOY!.

Yosemite Hike-u Led by Ranger Carl WORKSHEETThis is so stupid Haikus are so very dumb.

Plus, getting blister.

-Amelia E. CurryYou were the one who Wanted to go on the hike Of Half Dome, 'member?

-Roger H. SullivanThat was before I Read the fine print, which was Very very very very very scary.

-A.E.C.Amy, I don't think Haiku are supposed to rhyme Or repeat same words.

-R.H.S.Yosemite Hike-u Led by Ranger Carl WORKSHEETIs the plural of Haiku really haiku, Rog? I doubt it somehow.

-A.E.C.Like mice, like moose, like Aircraft, plural is the same. And "Rog"? Stretching, "Ame."

-R.H.S.Ranger Carl is mad His face turns red when he yells, "Don't hold up the group!"

-A.E.C.Ranger Carl needs to Allow some slow people more Time to count meter.

-R.H.S.Yosemite Hike-u Led by Ranger Carl WORKSHEETWas that referring To me? I take some offense I just don't like Carl.

-A.E.C.Poor, poor Ranger Carl Yelling, red-faced, and sunburned And fly is open.

-R.H.S.Wait, is it really? I had not yet noticed that-Oh my G.o.d. Hee hee.