Page 30 of Losing Sleep
“Am I missing something? Seeing an elk or bison sounds cool to me.” Grey looked back and forth between us, his brow furrowed in confusion. He shifted in his seat, looking out the windshield as if watching for an animal to come trotting down the road straight for us.
“Sure, they’re cool, but not when they’re causing this big of a traffic jam. Besides, we’ll probably see herds of both deeper into the park,” Tory said, frustration tinging her tone as she leaned forward as if silently willing the cars in front of her to move faster.
Trent and I nodded in agreement.
“Makes sense.” Grey looked out the window, scanning the trees, before turning back to me with a goofy grin. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to see Yellowstone. How busy do you think it’ll be at Old Faithful?”
“If we ever get there, insanely busy,” Tory said, her tone flat. Tory hated crowds in nature, making me wonder if we’d stick tothe plan and visit the iconic geyser, or if Tory would take us off the beaten path to some secret corner of the park that wasn’t as popular.
We continued to battle traffic, which had been caused by an elk, for a few miles before things cleared up. Grey snapped several photos of the animal, taking advantage of the forced slow down to observe the elk and exclaim over its size. I bit back a smile at his clear enthusiasm, his reaction making the traffic jam worth the delay.
We finally reached the fork in the road where we turned towards Old Faithful. The drive, which was still crowded but moving, passed quickly thanks to Grey’s excitement and questions about everything we passed. If we hadn’t been headed to a clear destination, he probably would have begged to stop at every pullout, soaking in the magic of Yellowstone with its mix of fields, forests, mountains, and geologic features.
We made it to Old Faithful and found a spot on the worn, weathered boardwalk near the back of the crowd. I watched Tory’s shoulders bunch towards her ears as she took in the people, knowing it was taking all her self-control not to bolt to the car and wait for us there. While she’d chosen our destination, I knew she’d done it for Grey. Tory, who loved people, also loved the quiet and calm of the mountains, something that was counteracted by the bustling crowds at tourist attractions like Old Faithful.
Despite the crowds, the sunshine was pleasant and helped erase my tension from the earlier traffic jam. Excitement built in the crowd the closer we got to eruption time. Grey fairly bounced on his toes, his enthusiasm palpable.
I wanted to reach over and grab his hand, feed off his energy and excitement. Instead, I slipped out my phone, capturing his expression as the geyser went off. The pure wonder on hisface would live in my memory for a long time, encapsulating a moment of magic.
We watched, along with hundreds of other tourists, as Old Faithful launched thousands of gallons of water skyward. Grey’s expression of amazement made me imagine what he had been like as a young child, and for a moment I got lost in the wonder of watching frothy white water explode from the earth, wind heavy with steam blowing in our faces.
“Are we sure it isn’t manmade? Or magic? The fact nature can just launch water into the air like that…Wow!” Grey rambled as we climbed back into the car.
“Just wait until you see the Grand Prismatic. It’s indescribable,” I said as I buckled my seatbelt, his excitement reminding me of my first visits to the area as a kid.
Back then, everything about Yellowstone had felt otherworldly, and I had impatiently anticipated what waited around the next corner as my mom and I had driven from one end of the park to the other. Not all of her adventures had ended in disaster. Some had given me memories of just the two of us that I would treasure forever.
“I don’t know. It’s going to be hard to beat boiling water shooting into the sky. How high do you think it went?” Grey asked, settling into his seat. His golden-brown eyes shone, and he fairly vibrated with residual enthusiasm, causing the seats in the back of Tory’s car to move slightly.
“I’ve been thinking. What if we save the Grand Prismatic for after everyone gets here?” Tory called from the front seat as we waited for an opening to pull out of our parking spot. “I don’t think Kylie’s been to the park either, and I’m sure she’ll want to see it too.”
“That, and you’re dying to get into the water,” I teased, reading the tension in Tory’s shoulders as she dealt with the crowds. Ifthere was one thing guaranteed to alleviate Tory’s stress, it was spending quality time outside in a body of water.
Tory shrugged, her black curls dancing with the movement. “Guilty as charged.”
We all agreed to the change of plans, and Tory drove to the Firehole. It was still fairly busy, making it difficult to find a parking spot, but Tory was able to squeeze into a spot after waiting for a family in a minivan to pull out. We each took turns in the nearby bathroom to change. I did my best to ignore the smell as I changed into my one-piece blue floral swimsuit and water shoes. I wiggled my toes in relief now that I was wearing sandals as opposed to the stiff, restrictive hiking shoes.
I stashed my clothes in the back of the car and reached for a camp chair to set up along the riverbank. The sun felt wonderful on my skin, and I welcomed its warmth.
“What do you need that for?” Grey asked, pointing to the chair. He had joined me at the back of the car wearing green swim trunks, a life jacket slung over one shoulder. I did my best to ignore his bare chest. While he didn’t have a six pack and bulging muscles, it was clear Grey took care of himself and wasn’t a stranger to exercise or the sun.
“I’m not swimming. I figured I’d read a book on my phone and enjoy nature.” I waved my phone to prove my point.
Tory joined the conversation with a shake of her head, her curls pulled up into a bun on top of her head. Her black and white polka dot swimsuit had a vintage feel that made me wish I had more polka dots in my wardrobe. “But you have to swim! This is one of the best things to do in the park.”
“I’m not a big swimmer,” I protested. Though perhaps the more accurate way to explain my swimming ability was that Icouldswim, I just chose not to. Swimming involved a whole lot of hassle that, since I’d become an adult, rarely seemed worth it.
Trent didn’t comment, simply joined our circle in blue swim trunks, his arms crossed over his bare chest, muscles bulging. He clearly spent multiple hours a week working out.
Grey watched me quietly, reading my hesitation.
“Are you afraid of the water?” he asked softly, trying to get at the root of my hesitation.
I shook my head. “I can swim.”
“Is it the rapids?” Concern pinched his brows, and I wanted to reach over and smooth out the crease.
“No, I can handle them.”
