Then the trees open, and there it is. The waterfall.
A proper cascade, cutting through the rock like it’s been doing this forever. Mist floats in the air around it, catching the late afternoon light. The whole clearing smells like pine and river and something faintly metallic.
Manuela stops walking. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” I say.
We stand there for a second.
“I feel like we were supposed to find this,” she says, almost to herself.
“Me too.”
We sit on a boulder near the edge of the pool at the base. The sun is slanting hard now, warm and bright and low in the areas where it cuts through the leaves. I should be thinking about my inbox, about the dozen emails waiting for me back in New York, but for the first time in months, I haven’t checked. Not once since we landed. And right now, staring at the water, I don’t want to. The quiet feels like a luxury, a peace that I didn’t realize was missing from my life.
Eventually, Manuela leans back on her hands and sighs. “I really don’t want to get up.”
“We should probably head back soon.”
She nods, but neither of us moves.
When we finally do stand and retrace our steps, the light has changed again. Dimmer and cooler. We follow the hill down to the base, but when we emerge near the train station, it’s empty.
No one is waiting. I pull out my phone, thumb moving with a practiced motion. No service and a blank screen where the bars should be.
Manuela walks ahead, checking the board. Her shoulders drop.
“What does it say?” I call, already knowing what she’s going to reply.
She turns around. “The last train was at five. There’s not even another connection to a different town. Maybe we can catch an alternative method of transportation.”
I check my phone, just to make sure. 5:12 p.m.
We look at each other, and she sighs again, louder this time. “Switzerland and their punctuality, darn it.”
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help but chuckle a little.
“Connor, we missed the train,” she says flatly.
“I noticed.”
“And no one thought to text us?”
“Maybe they assumed we were on the train? Like, a different carriage?”
She runs a hand through the front of her hair and paces in a small circle, then stops and looks up at me. “You think they’ll come back for us?”
I glance at the board again. “Not unless they’re taking a helicopter.”
Her mouth twitches. “You’re telling me we’re stuck?”
“Seems that way.”
She groans but then, surprisingly, laughs. “Okay. Fine. Great.Fuck. Okay. I think we can figure this out, right?”
I smile, letting the weight of it sink in. “Sure.”
“I mean…puta madre, why do these things happen to me?” She groans again and then pulls out her phone. “This is a first world country. They must have, like, an app for a ride share. Right?”
