“No interviews and no major writing plans aside from getting letters out to both the kids,” I answer. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s just that I’ve not really seen you leave the house, The Drip, or Lenny’s since you got here,” he says, giving me a smile that tells me he’s trying to be nice as he delivers a mildly judgmental take on how I’ve been spending my time. “As soon as I leave here, I’m going on one of my favorite hikes to a place called Triple Falls. It’s a little steep but not technically challenging. The views are great, and I think it would do you good to come with me. Picture it like a two-hour version ofWaldento reinvigorate your creative process. It would be good for us both.”
I think back to something Felicity told me when she came to Chapel Hill earlier this month before I left for Canopy.Try to get some fresh air. I’ve walked downtown more times than I can count, written thousands of words, supervised tons of home repairs, andcrossed almost everything off my to-do list. Fresh air? Not so much. Plus, after yesterday, some new scenery might help to get our friendship back on track. I can’t even pretend to be offended by his invitation.
“For someone who bought a house in a cute mountain town, I haven’t really done much of the mountain thing yet, have I?”
He lets out a laugh and nods his head in quick agreement.
“You promise not to judge me?” I begin. “Because I haven’t so much as rolled out the yoga mat since I’ve been here. Not sure where my cardiovascular health stands at the moment.”
“I promise,” he says, holding up three fingers to mimic the Scouts’ sign. “Your legs will burn, but I did this hike with my seventy-year-old aunt a few months ago, and she’s had a hip replacement. You’ll be fine.”
“Great, no pressure,” I joke. “Let me get changed and grab my backpack.”
—
As usual, Joshis right, and I know it the second we step out of his truck in the trailhead parking lot. The sound of the rushing falls greets us in the echoes of the forest. They are out of sight but teasing us with their presence nearby.
“Pretty cool, right?” he asks, noticing me close my eyes for a second to take it all in.
“I love the sound of water,” I respond. “Which is ironic, because I’m not big on swimming or boats or most water activities—but the sound of water instantly calms me.”
“For me, it’s the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind onthese mountain trails,” he shares, handing me my bag from the back seat.
“First you mentionWaldenand now you opine on rustling leaves?” I offer playfully. “I think you’ve got a hidden poet somewhere in there.”
He smiles and gestures to the path.
“A mile up, a mile back,” he says, before adding, “The way back is much easier.”
We’re quiet for the first few minutes of the hike. I’m easily distracted by a handful of fly fishermen, equally spread out as though they are obeying unwritten rules about space and territory. One guy lets out a yelp of excitement, and I turn to see him dropping a small trout into his net before snapping a quick photo and letting the fish back in the gushing stream.
“Do you fish?” I ask, assuming the answer is yes because there doesn’t seem to be an outdoor activity that Josh hasn’t tried.
“I do, but not by myself,” he answers. “To me, fishing is synonymous with spending time with James, my nephews, my dad, or my uncles. You?”
“I’ve tried it a few times, but it’s never been my thing. Ben liked it a lot and would take Benji out. They rarely caught anything but always managed to have the best time ever.”
We round a bend in the trail and are greeted by an impressive incline.
“A little steep, you said?”
“The elevation comes in waves. We’ll go slow and talk the entire way. You’ll barely notice these little hills. Plus, the first payoff is at the very first landing, so it’s instant gratification.”
“If I make it there alive!”
Josh playfully rolls his eyes, mimicking one of my classic facial expressions. Before I have time to elbow him, he jumps into conversation.
“What else did Ben like to do?” he asks.
I’m surprised by the question, but just like when Sunny recently asked about Ben, I welcome the opportunity to tell Josh about him.
“For fun? Ben loved sports,” I say at a somewhat rapid pace, thanks to my embarrassing shortness of breath. “Basketball at the Y, pickleball with retirees, coaching Ava’s soccer team. He always had to be in motion. He kept all of us active.”
“I can relate to that,” Josh shares. “Although for most of the last few years, it’s only been a few hikes here and there…and fantasy football. Not sure that counts.”
“What is it with grown men and fantasy football?” I ask with a smile. “Ben was obsessed.”
