Page 41 of The Darkest Parts of Me

“Well, I better help Tasha pack up.” My nerves get the better of me. “See you on the trail?” I ask.

He smiles wide, eyes crinkling. “See you on the trail, Maven.”

My nerves only grow the closer we get to the ascent, and for some strange, but welcome reason, my knee is still holding up well. I really need to ask Renn more about that ointment.

The ascent is only half a mile, but it’s the steepest section of the entire hike. The group as a whole seems to move at a faster pace in anticipation of finally getting to our sought-after destination, and even though Tasha, Renn, and I are at the back once again, we keep up well enough. Maybe it’s the adrenaline that pushes me forward, helping me to ignore the burn in my muscles, or maybe Tasha and Renn’s presence gives me motivation.

If I’m being honest, it’s probably both, and I’m grateful for it.

The last ascent before the overlook is narrow and rocky, with sections of nothing but sheer drop-offs on either side. The guides instruct the group to go single file and to leave plenty of room between each other. Because of this, we have to wait for our turn to go one by one. I’m thankful for the extra time to rest and review everything I know about the ascent. The narrowest, most dangerous sections of the trail are guided with rope tied to metal stakes which are anchored into the rock. I’ve heard many stories about this part in particular over the years, and it’s where people actually fall off the cliffside every few years.

“If people would just do what they’re supposed to, they wouldn’t fall.” I hear my dad’s voice in my mind.

“The key is to not look down, keep your bearings, and go slow,” Trey says, giving the group tips. My knee starts to bounce nervously with anticipation.

“Do you want me to go before you, or after?” Tasha asks. I watch those already scaling the mountain, taking note of what’s helping make it easier, and what to avoid.

“I’ll go last.”

The sun beats down on us. Trees are more scarce now that we’re near the top of the mountain, which means less shade as we wait. Maybe going last isn’t such a good idea. I can feel the heat stealing my strength little by little.

As we wait, Renn spends most of his time talking with the same group of guys from town, but at one point, the woman who said she wanted to take Renn into the woods for a hookup approaches him. She’s pretty with short, blonde hair. She’s bold, I’ll give her that, but a pulse of jealousy pumps through my blood when I watch her put a hand on Renn’s forearm. She had to touch him there, of course. He catches my eye as his expression says something like “help me.” I shrug and flash him a wicked grin, the jealousy gone.

When our turn finally arrives, without a word, Tash pulls me into a tight hug and holds me for a long moment. I hold her back just as tight.

“You’ve got this,” she says, pulling away. Her wide, hazel eyes are full of hope and worry as she looks at me, unblinking.

“I’ve got this, and so do you,” I say, giving her an encouraging smile.

She gives one last squeeze, then tightens the straps on her pack and starts scaling up the rocky path. Her curly hair is pulled up high on her head, and she looks graceful as she moves onward and up. A beam of pride for my best friend burns in my chest.

Renn comes up next to me, watching her for a moment, then bends down to tighten his shoelaces and the straps on his pack. “Well, this is it,” he says. His eyes are more green than I’ve ever seen them. I wait for him to give me the same encouraging sentiment as Tasha, but instead, he moves closer to me so I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Keep looking forward, one step at a time,” he says, low and calm. The sound of it grounds my nerves and thoughts of excitement. For a moment, I think about hugging him, but instead, I just nod. “I’ll see you at the top,” he adds, his eyes clear and captivating. I read it all there, the things left unsaid. The belief, not hope, that I will make it—and that is the final push I need.

“Don’t worry about me. Just keep going. I’ll catch up,” I say.

He smiles wide and then turns to face the mountain. He takes a deep breath and starts to climb, his broad chest moving in and out, slowly. I try not to let my mind go wild as I take in every move he makes, his arms flexing as the muscles tighten across his back, his long fingers gripping on to the rock when he needs extra leverage. Even through his shirt, I can see the material moving against him, stretching against his muscles, leaving little to the imagination.

Stop thinking about Renn’s muscles. Focus on the mountain, I tell myself, laughing lightly. Once he’s several yards ahead of me, I close my eyes and take a collection of deep breaths.

Steady yourself. You’ve got this. They will be waiting for you.

I say the mantra to myself a few times, then open my eyes and begin. I don’t think of the path as a whole; instead, I do as Renn said and take it one step at a time.

Make it to the bend. Now the rock ahead. I take the path in small stretches to get me to the end, little by little.

I can spot Renn from time to time up ahead of me, catching quick glimpses of his red backpack for a moment or two when the path isn’t obstructed by trees or rocks, and every time I do, it gives me that extra motivation to keep moving. When I arrive at the first rope section, it becomes clear that people didn’t exaggerate when they said it’s narrow. It’s so slim that I have to walk almost as if I’m on a tightrope, one foot in front of the other while clinging on to the rope, the roughness rubbing against my palm, almost burning from my tight grip. My heartbeat thumps in my ears, and my hands are sweaty, probably from a mixture of nervousness and exhaustion. I try to keep my eyes ahead, but steal a glance to the side at the sheer drop off, and all at once, my body goes stiff, my legs feeling like they weigh a ton. I try to step forward, but can’t. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to control the fear building inside me.

Deep breaths. Just take a step. One step, that’s all.

But no matter how many times I say it, I stand, frozen.

Not sure what to do, I do something I haven’t done in a long time.

“Dad,” I say aloud, the vibrations of my voice echoing off the rocks around me. “Dad, if you’re there, if you’re somewhere . . . anywhere, I need your help.” I pray that maybe there’s a part of him here—an imprint because of how much he loved this place. Maybe that’s why I do it, but no matter the reason, it’s comforting the more I speak.

“Dad, help me.” I keep my eyes shut tight, waiting for a feeling, anything to give me a sign. I take long, deep breaths, trying to hone in on the mountains and nature surrounding me, focusing in on the soundscape until it becomes a soothing source of solace. It begins to call to me, igniting my soul.

Maven, you are not alone. You can do this. Don’t give up now.

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