Answers
Zelda arrives to find Jackson and Edward out front, sipping
coffees. Jackson greets her with a rib-crushing hug. Edward settles for a wave.
They squish into the seat of Jackson’s truck and proceed south to Los Gatos.
The back of the cab is piled high with fast-food wrappers and Gatorade bottles.
Jackson loops past the wide lawns of the high school and parks on the Main
Street Bridge, twenty feet above the mountain-bound drivers on Highway 17.
They cross the street and descend a dirt hill to the Los
Gatos Creek Trail. This is, in fact, the same trail that passes behind Zelda’s
apartment five miles north.
Zelda’s head buzzes with questions, but she thinks it best
to save them for later. After all, the anemone has invited her into his
tidepool. They walk a long straightaway along a steeply banked concrete
channel. The mountains on either side are steep, as well, giving the walk a
canyon-like feel. The late sun imbues the ridges with a pale glow. A mile on,
the channel gives way to a more natural-looking creek, bordered by lush pockets
of ivy. The hills on the right close in, revealing the undersides of the
highway and the imposing columns that hold it in place.
The woods thicken into stands of bay laurel and big-leaf
maple. They approach a bench on the left, and Edward takes a sudden turn.
“Watch your step,” says Jackson. “Lots of loose soil.”
They drop onto a concrete spillway and then to a series of
chunky bluestones. Their path flattens out next to the creek and proceeds into
a sudden canyon, the right side cut off by looming gray-blue boulders. The
creek grows wider and shallower. Edward crosses, performing a soft-shoe along a
series of stepping stones.
Jackson laughs. “Makes it look easy, doesn’t he? Here:
follow my lead.” He lands on the first stone, pauses, then hits the next,
making certain that Zelda sees the way. They achieve the other side and split a
row of well-spaced oaks to half a tennis court of grass.
“There’s an old road that used to run right next to the
creek,” says Jackson. “This spot is so level, we think it might have been a
part of that. There’s some old bridges closer to the reservoir. We’ll have to
take you sometime. He sits on a well-worn log and pats the spot next to him.
The view down the creek is gorgeous, twilight filtering through a high-arching
tunnel of laurel branches. Edward kneels at the edge of the clearing, shuffling
leaves. Jackson narrates.
“The local authorities are pretty tolerant, as long as one
stays out of sight. So we buried a couple of garbage cans.”
Edward lifts a lid, reaches into the ground and extracts a
light-brown pack. He unties the fastener, takes out a wad of shiny fabric and
pulls it open. It settles to the ground as a fully formed pup tent.
“These pop-up tents are amazing,” says Jackson. “Coulda used
one of those in my Boy Scout days.”
Edward throws a rolled-up sleeping bag into the tent, then
opens a second garbage can and brings them each a peanut butter snack bar.
“Thanks,” says Zelda.
“You’re welcome.” He sits on the grass, his back to the log.
“The part that would get me is the darkness,” says Jackson.
“Can’t afford to give yourself away with artificial light. Although you can
count on Highway 17 for some headlights in the heavens.”
They sit and chew. Zelda can hear the traffic above,
sounding a bit like ocean waves. She gets the idea that Edward is working up
the nerve to tell her something.
Jackson pats Edward on the shoulder. “Buddy? You want me to
handle this?”
Edward tries to speak but settles for a nod.
“Okay.” Jackson takes one hand in the other and flexes his
fingers. “It’s like this. Edward is very grateful for the added dimension
you’ve brought to his professional life, the dancing and… Okay, I’m adding
this, but especially when you took that face-plant. Which is why he feels like
he owes you at least the bare bones of his story. Good so far?”
Edward gives another nod.
“Okay. So. Edward was a… professional. Had a successful
career. Got married. He was very much in love with her. A few years later, she
got sick. The cancer treatments were not entirely covered by his insurance.
They fought the disease for five years, and they lost everything they had. And,
finally, he lost her. The amount of time he spent with her affected his job
performance, so he lost that, too. Bastards.”
Edward clears his throat.
“Sorry,” says Jackson. “I’m not supposed to add editorial
comments. Anyway. He found some consulting work, and was starting to recover
when the mortgage crisis hit and he lost his house, which was refinanced twice
during the cancer fight. That was when he decided to live outside the margins,
where people couldn’t take things away from him. If you ever – and I’m sorry,
Edward, but I’m going to add this one thing – if you ever saw some guy holding
a cardboard sign on a meridian and you wondered, if everything went to hell,
all at once, would that be me? That was Edward.”
That’s the end. They sit there for a silent minute. Edward’s
breath is coming in short ruffs. Zelda realizes it’s because he’s fighting off
tears.
“Should we leave?” asks Jackson.
Edward waves a hand. Jackson stands and helps Zelda to her
feet. They begin to walk away, but Zelda stops to lean down and kiss Edward on
the cheek.
“I’m sorry.” She runs a hand over his hair.
“Not your fault,” he whispers.
The climb up the hill is a challenge, but the main trail is
light in color and easy to follow. They stop at a spot where the channel drops
into a concrete pool. The waterfall sends out a white blossom, glowing in the
faint light.
“You don’t know how huge this is,” says Jackson. “I think,
when you had your fall, it snapped Edward out of himself. It’s been a long time
since he’s allowed himself to care about somebody. It’s a dangerous thing, to
care about somebody.”
“But he cares about you.”
“Sure.” Jackson smiles. “But I’m indestructible. So were
you, till you started bleeding all over the field.”
“I promise not to make a habit of it.” Zelda recalls the
look in Edward’s eyes, dark hallways of loss. “So sad.”
“Don’t think I don’t know. Come on, let’s get back to the
truck before they bust us.”
Photo by MJV
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