Mr Peanut - Adam Ross [70]
“Like what? Like I did something?”
“Don’t make me say it!”
She stopped so suddenly he nearly slid into her. She turned her back to the cliff and walked up the slope backward to let a group of hikers who were coming from the other direction pass. David couldn’t tell if they’d heard their argument.
He and Alice walked silently for a time.
“I’m waiting,” he finally said.
She didn’t reply.
“I’m waiting for you to say it.”
She said nothing.
“It’s like the prize behind door number three. I can’t fucking wait to hear.”
She tripped.
He saw it happen before she did. He was sure when he saw it that she’d never make the whole hike. She wasn’t in shape; the pack was too much. A mile and a half in and already she couldn’t lift her feet even over such a small rock, her left foot catching on it, and this sent her falling to the right, toward the edge of the cliff, and when the pack slung forward she landed hard on her shoulder, her momentum throwing her feet in the air. David’s heart stopped. But she came to a halt, fortunately, and lay there. Another foot and she would’ve gone over. He bent to help her up.
“Don’t touch me,” she said.
Another group of hikers approached them. When they saw Alice brushing herself off, the leader asked if she was all right. David said she’d taken a little spill and would be fine. In the presence of these strangers she collected herself quickly, her cordiality galling to him. The trail was so narrow that passing required a kind of clownish maneuvering. You faced the oncomers, got as close as you could, and shuffled in place.
The group finally passed, though Alice just stood there for a moment. A helicopter thundered overhead, the engine roar louder than the subway or a fire truck, NA PALI SKY TOURS it read on the craft. It was so noisy it almost spoiled the place.
Alice tucked her hair behind her ear, waiting.
“Let me see your shoulder,” he said.
Begrudgingly, she turned to let him examine her.
Her right shoulder was scraped along the deltoid, berries of blood in full bloom. Around the edges, it was already purple. “Can you move your arm?”
“Yes,” she said, refusing to demonstrate. “I’m fine.” Out of the corner of her eye, she looked at him.
He wiped the sweat above his mouth with his palm. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She stood there.
“Can you carry your pack?”
“It hurts a little.”
He sighed. It was quiet now. He felt remorseful and wanted to kiss her. “It’s beautiful here,” he said.
She nodded.
“Let’s just get to Hanakapi’ai,” he said. “We can take care of the cut and then reassess.”
She cleared her throat.
“Do you want to lead?” he said.
She stood there like a child. “You go,” she said finally.
They had to face each other as they pivoted around. He smiled, but she wouldn’t look up.
Their pace slowed considerably over the next half hour. Every time he looked back, Alice was struggling, limping slightly and adjusting the straps on her shoulder. When he asked intermittently how she was holding up, she said she was okay, so he stopped asking. After an hour, they came to a precipice wide enough for a dozen people to stand on. A boulder formed a natural bench, shaded by a small tree—a perfect place to rest.
She stopped and slipped out of her pack, wincing as it slid over her shoulder. Then she sat and lifted her right foot. “I have a blister,” she said. She took off her shoe and sock.
“Let me take care of that,” he said. The blister was on the outside of her big toe, the skin hanging there, white as cream.
With Second Skin and medical tape in his pack, he prided himself on his readiness. She let him tend to her—this gladdened him—and when she put her shoe back on, he said, “Maybe we should turn around.”
“I want to keep going,” she said, remaining seated.
A family appeared from around the corner, day hikers with only water bottles, headed back to Ke’e Beach. The mother and father looked to be in their late forties, the two boys in their teens. They stopped at the lookout and regarded the view. David nodded at them.
“Would