“ALASKA?” I SAID. “YOU’RE putting me on.”
“I wish I was. It came up really fast, Dylan. My dad said to tell you how disappointed he was, after expecting to finally meet you and run the river with you. He didn’t really have a choice.”
I was awfully slow to process what I’d just heard. It was like I’d suffered a concussion.
“He asked me to explain, Dylan. Dad thought he was going to be able to work here this summer, guiding on the Rio Grande. Even though the river runs highest in the summer—when the rains come—summer is the low season for the river companies. The tourists aren’t too keen on the heat. Most of the guides leave to work on rivers in Colorado, where it’s nice and cool. As of last week Dad was the only guide left in town, but he thought he had work. He had three bookings in August lined up for after our trip.”
Rio’s eyes were flitting this way and that with barely a bounce off mine. He took a quick breath and kept talking. “The economy is killing us, Dylan, especially the cost of gas, and the fear factor about Mexico isn’t helping. Tourist visits to Big Bend National Park are way down, and business for the river companies has cratered. Those three bookings for August I just told you about, they all canceled. My dad found out only four days ago. Well, he had to get work, and fast. It’s always hand-to-mouth around here. An old friend who owns a river company out of Haines, Alaska, offered three trips on the Alsek River—each one eleven days long—if he could get there in twenty-four hours. Dad threw some stuff in a bag, drove to El Paso, and jumped on a plane. He’s going to make some good money up there.”
Rio leaned back, waiting for me to say something. I was still too dumbfounded, just trying to stay calm and not say anything I would regret.
“I know, Dylan. This sucks.”
Ariel brought our burgers, two apiece. They were huge and looked delicious, but as I started in on the first one, I was so distracted by the grinding of my mental gears I couldn’t even taste it.
I was hungry, though. I kept chewing and swallowing. Between burgers I said, “How come you didn’t let me know before I left home?”
“My dad was on the fly. He asked me to take care of it and I told him I would . . . I came down here to the Starlight and started to punch up your number. I just couldn’t do it.”
“Uh, why not?”
“Well, I knew your bag was probably already packed.”
“It was, but still—”
“What I mean is, I knew how much you were counting on it. I was counting on it myself, like you wouldn’t believe. Summer around here is deadly dull. The kids from school are scattered all over the desert. There aren’t any even close to my age who live in the ghost town. I figured we could go ahead and have a great time doing whatever.”
“You could’ve told me when you called the hotel in Alpine. I mean, I was right there.”
“I know. I’m really sorry about that. I figured that if I filled you in, you would’ve phoned home and that would’ve been the end of it. Don’t you think?”
“Probably so.”
“Look, I’m really sorry. I’ll understand if you scratch and do a U-turn. I can see how annoyed you are.”
“More like disappointed.”
“I thought the chance might never come again. You know how long we’ve been talking about it. Well, not literally. You know what I mean.”
“Your dad actually left you here for more than a month, alone?”
“He was away for a month last summer, working in Colorado. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s not easy, but I can handle it. And people in the ghost town look out for each other. Really, I’m sorry. I had this whole image of how it was going to be. I realize how weird this must seem.”
I was at a loss as I tried to sort out my feelings about his deception. Here’s what made it so difficult: My cousin seemed so sincere and so honest, if that’s the right word.
One thing Rio was right about—how long we’d been looking forward to this. He might be correct, too, that it was now or never. My mother thought of her brother as flaky enough as it was. Would she be willing to make like this snafu didn’t happen and try again the following summer? Send me all the way back to run the river?
Maybe not. Well, probably not.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” I told my cousin. “I understand, sort of. What will we do if I stay, besides hang out?”
“We can paddle Santa Elena Canyon for sure. It’s the closest and shortest of the four canyons. The put-in is only ten miles away. Ariel can drop us off and pick us up. The canyon is real narrow, real deep—an incredible place.”
“Lots of rapids?”
“Only one, called Rock Slide, but it’s a big deal.”
“How long of a trip is it?”
“Just one day . . . you look disappointed.”
“I guess I am. I mean, we were going to have a week on the river, and that sounded awesome. But, okay, we could paddle Santa Elena Canyon for a day—then what?”
“We could do a lot of mountain biking . . .”
“I’ll have to sleep on it,” I said. “Sleep on the whole deal.”
“Fair enough.”
On our way out of the Starlight, we collected my stuff off the porch. Rio asked if I wanted to climb to the top of the hill by the water tower and throw fireworks into an eight-hundred-foot-deep mineshaft. The fireworks bouncing off the walls all the way down made for “an insanely spectacular show.”
I was dead tired and asked for a rain check. I followed Rio across the hillside into the residential part of the ghost town. There weren’t any streetlights but the moon was up. My cousin told me to watch where I stepped; the rattlesnakes were active at night. Lights twinkled here and there from dwellings scattered amid the ruins. I felt like I was sleepwalking in a postapocalyptic world.
We came to an iron gate in a stone wall. The gate squeaked open to a patio and Rio’s front door. I took note that my mother’s brother and his son didn’t live under a rock after all, though their house was made out of rocks. “Welcome,” Rio said. “Mi casa es su casa.”