Mr Peanut - Adam Ross [73]
He chose to head back to Ke’e.
He felt confident in his decision. She had no reason to go the other direction. Nor could she reasonably consider the hike doable, especially after the strain of these first two miles. Even now, the fatigue he felt as he labored back up the switchbacks was humbling, and the idea of hiking into Hanakoa seemed ridiculously foolish, far beyond his stamina. He found himself on the balls of his feet, taking giant steps forward, gasping for breath. In his mind he saw Alice tumbling in the wave and being thrown to shore. He felt awful. Terrible things happened when minor miscalculations like that were made. He’d nearly rescued her mood. They had nearly been past this. Somehow he needed to make things up to her. To show her that for as long as they’d been together, for better or worse, she’d always been foremost in his thoughts. Why did he require her absence to realize this? What was wrong with his soul that he always forgot?
Hurrying, he shifted into a state of pure, mindless movement, stride after stride. He made the summit and once more looked down at Hanakapi’ai. That was when he saw her.
Through some blessed instance of good fortune he saw her across the valley Hanakapi’ai formed, as far along the trail toward Hanakoa, and as high, as he was toward Ke’e now. She was standing there on this mirror ledge, looking in his direction, then down the trail ahead of her. It was as if they were standing in facing skyscrapers. She had her thumbs tucked under the straps of her pack and was considering something, then turned again and was looking right at him—he was sure of it! He waved but she didn’t wave back. He jumped around and waved both arms. He said her name silently and screamed it but saw no acknowledgment. He suddenly lost confidence. Perhaps she couldn’t see him. From this distance she was as big as his thumbnail. Something had given her pause. He waved and waved and did a worthless calculation—his watch said 1:23—and guessed that with the descent and subsequent ascent to her position plus her already substantial head start she was at least an hour beyond his reach—and that if he made haste.
He screamed her name again, waving both arms, and whether she heard him or not she turned and continued along the trail, soon disappearing.
He moved recklessly, zigzagging like a skier, sometimes slipping and then tripoding down, once falling badly enough that he had to stop and repeatedly flex his smashed knee. His blood sugar had plummeted. With everything that had gone on today, in all of his distraction and anger and relief, he’d neglected to eat. He took off his pack and took out the peanut butter and banana sandwich he’d made and ate on the move, making sure to drink water as well. Now he was too scared to be angry. This terrible silence that had come between them had brought them into what felt like dangerous territory, as if they were stuck in the middle of a tightrope over a gaping chasm and now had to find the skill to somehow maintain their balance together and cross over safely. Within half an hour, he made the river of rock and passed the sign that said HANAKOA VALLEY