Where Sea Meets Sky

“Listen up,” Blair says, clapping his hands together. “When you’re all suited up, make sure to slip on your helmets. I’ll come by and make sure everyone is done up correctly. Then I’ll quickly go over the abseiling technique and we’ll make our descent.”

I raise my hand. “Uh, descent into where?”

He smiles and makes a sweeping gesture to the forest behind him. “Just over there.”

There’s nothing but ferns at first glance, but when I stare a bit longer I can see the shades and heights of the greenery change.

Once we put on our helmets, complete with a light on top, and look like a bunch of scuba-diving astronauts, Blair does a quick demonstration on abseiling technique. And when I say quick, I mean, like, lawsuit-ready quick. Something about keeping a steady grip on the rope and your knees relaxed and trying not to plummet to your death. That’s all I get out of it.

I look at everyone else in the group but they seem more excited than worried as Blair leads us over to the place he was gesturing toward earlier.

The ground in front of us opens up into a wide hole in the ground, a very mini version of the Grand Canyon filled with ferns and other prehistoric-looking plants. There are no hobbits here but I wouldn’t be surprised if a velociraptor came darting out of the bushes.

There’s the distinct smell of fresh water wafting up toward us and the sound of it babbling from somewhere down below. When I gather the courage to step closer to the edge and look over, I can see the ropes are already in place. Down where the canyon seems to disappear under the lip of a rock, there’s a stack of inner tubes. I have to remind myself that these tours run several times a day, every day.

I’m not going to die.

But it’s not long before I’m tempting death and Blair is hooking me up to the ropes. I don’t know why he’s chosen me to go first; maybe because I’m the tallest and most expendable.

Or because I’m Canadian.

I can’t back out now. I’m hanging off the side of the cliff, my feet against the rock face, trying to keep my knees from locking. I’m gripping the rope for dear life and I’ve forgotten everything that Blair has said. The only thing I can see is Gemma, peering over the edge at me. All the other faces, all the other voices, meld together until they’re nothing.

But she’s there. Watching me with concern, with wonder. A few strands of dark hair hang loose against her cheekbones, and I remember brushing my fingers along her skin, pushing her hair away. I don’t think I’ll ever stop comparing that night—what we were—with what we are now.

In some ways, I wish I had never slept with her. Then I could appreciate being with her more, revel in her company, in getting to know her. But I can’t even do that, because I already feel like I know her. I’ve come inside her mouth. She’s come into mine. I’ve felt her heartbeat beneath me. So much intimacy in such a short amount of time.

And now I’m forced to start at square one, and it’s killing me that there’s this distance, that I’m hanging from this rope and going into the abyss alone while she watches with her boyfriend by her side. I’m falling, slowly and controlled for now, but I’m still going down.

I wonder if she’ll follow.

She at least follows into the canyon.

As soon as my feet reach the ground and I let go of the rope, unhooking myself, Blair is readying it for her. I step back and stare up at her as she descends with ease. She has obviously been abseiling before.

When she lands, light on her feet, and it’s just us two, I have a very Neanderthal moment, imagining we’re Adam and Eve. I could just scoop her up in my arms and run into the cave with her and we could start a new life in this secret little world.

But Nick is next, blasting down the ropes like a stripper on a pole, and he gives Gemma a hard high five, accompanied by a few Tom Cruise-ish hoots and an “Aw yeah, awesome!” If I let my real caveman come out, I would have to club him over the head with a rock and steal her from right under his nose.

Soon we’re all gathered on the overgrown canyon floor and Blair is leading us toward the stack of inner tubes. Once we’ve each picked one up and swung it on our shoulders, we’re told to flick on our headlamps and follow him into the cave.

It smells like, well, like a cave—dank and earthy—and while at first there’s a lot of height to the ceiling, it gradually slopes lower and lower until we’re all hunched over. The sound of water increases to a roar, and through the glow of our headlights I catch glimpses of a river. The light from the outside world is far away, a dim glow of blue at the end of the cave.

I shiver. “Has anyone seen the movie The Descent?”

Amber glares at me, her face washed out against my lamp. “Shut the fuck up, don’t talk about that movie while we’re in here.”

Blair laughs. “Every day, someone brings that film up. Well, rest assured, we aren’t going to be squeezing into any tight spots, and there are no creepy half-man, half-animal blind cannibals hiding in the dark. Besides,” he says, reaching forward and grabbing Gemma’s biceps, “it looks like Gemma here can take care of them herself.”

Gemma gives him a small smile at the slight intrusion, but Nick immediately smacks Blair’s hand off of her, stepping in between them with his chest out and his neck muscles all strained and ropey.

“Hey, ease off,” he snarls, getting in Blair’s face.

And I thought I was the caveman here. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">