Without the stair-stepper, I would’ve been done in the first twenty minutes. The Idaho hike is no joke.
Our destination is close to four miles into the Sawtooth Mountain Range. For the first part of the hike, I get overly confident, lulled by the cool morning and gradual incline into thinking myself a badass. But then the sun rises higher, and the elevation increases. As we navigate the trail through towering pines and up switchbacks, my lungs begin to lodge protests.
I focus on inhaling through my nose and exhaling with control like I’ve practiced with my Bane mask.
“Let’s take a pause.” Dom slips his backpack off his shoulders and settles on a flat rock, stretching out his long legs, looking like his limbs need the respite.
They don’t. He could go for miles more and barely be winded.
Meanwhile, I collapse next to him as if I’ve been heaving boulders up this mountainside for the past two hours we’ve been hiking.
“Need your inhaler?” he asks.
I almost shake my head no, but I remind myself not to be proud.
Be honest, and maybe I’ll get through this.
“Yes,” I wheeze. As far as I can tell, I’m not about to have an attack, but breathing isn’t comfortable at the moment. The inhaler can be preemptive instead of responsive.
Dom digs it out of the side pocket of the backpack I’m still wearing, so I don’t have to bend my arm at a weird angle. He also finds the spacer, which I brought with me. I attach the two pieces and take a puff.
After allowing the medication to ease my airways and resting for a stretch, I’m ready to go again. A few chipmunks scurry away when I heave off the rock. I stand tall, hands braced on the lightweight trekking poles Dom gifted me on our arrival at the trailhead.
“Let’s get back to it.”
To Dom’s credit, he doesn’t argue with me or push that we rest for longer. He trusts me to tell him my limits, and I appreciate that. Even when I wobble while trying to balance on a loose collection of logs laid over a stream, he doesn’t swoop in and scoop me up.
Though his face does look pale, jaw tense, when I reach the other side and turn back to check on him.
Dom makes the crossing with annoyingly perfect grace. The hiking pants stretch over his muscular thighs, and I’m suddenly thankful for the rising temperature, because he’s already stripped off his jacket. I chew on my lower lip as my eyes trace the way his sleeves strain over his biceps.
As if he can tell what has me distracted, Dom smirks.
“Come on, Maddie. You’re holding up the line.”
I snort but turn back to the trail. He’s not entirely wrong.
Josh might send us to remote places, but they aren’t without people. We’ve already crossed paths with a handful of other day hikers like us, and I bet if this were a weekend, we’d see a lot more. If my brother were here, he probably would have made friends with half the people we passed by now. Dom and I, introverts that we are, tend to offer nods and smiles and “Good day for a hike.” And leave it at that.
We’re loners.
Loners together.
Maybe Josh was worried about both of us.
Finally, after more breaks than I’d like but the amount I needed, the sparkle of water flashes through the trees. Another minute and we come upon a lake plucked from a fairy tale.
Alpine Lake. The water is so clear I can see straight to the bottom, which is a cluttered tapestry of stones and logs. Mountains surround the crystal water, their rocky peaks still holding on to small swaths of snow even in the middle of summer.
“Good choice, Josh,” Dom murmurs as he stops by my side. The heat of his body so close to mine should bother me since I’m already sweaty and running hot from the exertion of the climb out here. But having Dom at my side is soothing and has been for a while.
Gone are the days where his presence brought discomfort and bad memories. Around him, the world feels better.
“Ready to read it?” He asks, voice low as if speaking too loudly might disturb the tranquil scene.
I nod and let my trekking pole dangle from my wrist as I open my hand to accept the envelope, hungry eyes on the familiar handwriting.
Idaho
44°03’53.6” N
115°01’21.7” W
Dear Maddie & Dom,
Welcome to Idaho!
Oh, Idaho, how did I overlook you? So many mountains. So much deep powder to ski down. And those views…
You see one now, right? I hope you do. Maddie, if you made the hike to the coordinates I left, I’m so proud of you. I know it’s far, but I also knew you could do it.
And if you didn’t, I’m still fucking proud of you because you don’t have to climb a mountain to be amazing. But one day I hope you do because you deserve to see all the beautiful places in the world.
Assuming that you’ve both made it to Alpine Lake, it’s time for my dreaded task! Don’t worry, I’ve already made you hike miles, so I’ll keep this one easy.
Tell each other what you hope your future looks like. What do you dream for yourself?
This is one of the things that made my diagnosis suck so much in the beginning. I lost my will to hope.
I found it again, and now my future isn’t a faraway thing. It’s tomorrow and the next day. Next week and maybe next month if I’m lucky.
But I still have dreams for those futures. Still have hopes.
And they’re coming true. Mostly because I speak up now. I ask for what I want.
So, tell each other your perfect futures. Say them out loud.
And help each other make them come true.
Love,
Josh
P.S. Don’t forget to take a picture for me and leave me among the trees.
I huff a frustrated laugh. What is it with Josh wanting me to crack myself open time and time again. Isn’t it enough that I have to deal with knowing each read letter is a step closer to his final words?
Dom clears his throat and I glance up at the tall man, framed in sunlight that sets the few lighter strands on his head to blazing.
“I can go first,” he offers. “If you need time to think.”
Truthfully? I do. If I want to say something other than…
My perfect future has my brother in it, but that’s not going to happen, so I guess the rest of my life is shit.
“Go for it.”
My body leans toward his, as if my cells want to know his answer. To melt this secret piece of Dom knowledge into the very makeup of my being.
He nods, gazing out over the pristine water before turning back to me.
“My perfect future has you in it.” Dom’s eyes hold mine, and I lose my breath again, but not because of the climb. The intensity of his stare holds me transfixed. Then his hands cup my face, and he tilts my chin at the perfect angle to deliver a soft kiss. “Happy birthday, Maddie.”
I should’ve known he would remember. He has the day programmed as the lock on his safe, after all.
Today is my birthday. A day that my brother always sought to make special for me even if all he could afford was my favorite bag of candy from the local gas station. This day, a year ago, I was in a dark pit of misery that was only growing deeper after I cut off contact with my mother.
But today? This day is special again.
Because of my brother and his best friend.
I fully face Dom and press up on my toes, fisting my fingers in his moisture-wicking shirt to drag him down to me. Our mouths meet with a slow burning that ends with tangled tongues and both of us breathing heavy on each other’s air. Eventually, I break away only so I don’t have to take another dose of my inhaler to survive this man. Still, we hold on to each other, and I finally fulfill the requirements.
“My perfect future has more birthdays like this,” I murmur, and Dom’s lips twitch into a barely-there smile.
But I see it. And as his words and pleased expression play on repeat in my mind for the return journey, I can’t help remembering how we only have two states left.
At the start of this, I wanted everything to go by faster. Get to the next destination quick, so I could hear from Josh and get Dominic Perry out of my life for good.
But now?
Now I think I’m ready for life to slow down.