Page 21 of Second Chances

Just outside Denver, Henry sent his first postcard home before choosing a spot at the foot of the Rockies to stay for his first night. Removing the tent he’d packed from his car, along with a sleeping bag and the food his mom and sister had packed, he set up camp. A rainstorm provided the soundtrack for the beginning of what he hoped would be his metamorphosis, sluicing away his humiliation from DD’s rejection. As the dawn broke through the clouds, the Rockies, stunningly unlike anything he’d ever seen in South Dakota, formed a barrier to his past.

In Utah, he mailed the second postcard home from Arches National Park. Because check-in at the Grand Canyon was ongoing the entire week, he seized the opportunity to remain an extra day, unable to pass up hiking around the sandstone formations. Pinnacles, spires, and sandstone boulders, all painted a deep, earthen rust by nature, emphasized Henry’s focus on his future. Contemplating the colossal universe twinkling overhead in the purple sky, he found comfort in the solitude and endless abundance of the cosmos.

Four full days of driving later, he arrived at the Grand Canyon, exiting at a scenic overlook on the highway to take it all in. Pushing his Minnesota Twins baseball cap off his head, Henry wiped his sweaty brow, memorizing every detail of the sweeping expanse so he could accurately describe it to his mom—the deep gorges with veins of blue and pink darting through them, the brightness of the sky in stark contrast to the red dirt clinging to the cuffs of his jeans. More spectacular in real life than any photo, he did his best to soak in the wonder. From the towering cliffs to the cavernous valley carved out by the Colorado River below, the landscape was something from another planet. The hues of the gorge in front of him made him wish he was a painter, able to capture something so vivid yet strikingly barren. Coughing as the wind kicked up a cloud of dust, Henry supposed he’d have to get used to the arid atmosphere as well, completely opposite from the humidity he’d left behind in eastern South Dakota.

To prepare for his road trip, Henry had loaded up one of his mom’s old pieces of Tupperware with his favorite cassettes. Fortunately, his dad had installed a tape deck in his car after warning him that FM radio reception would more than likely be spotty in places. AM radio only was definitely not an option, even though he’d gotten used to WNAX (“the oldest radio station in South Dakota, son,” his dad often reminded him) working at the auto shop. Hearing farm reports and Paul Harvey were not what he wanted driving across five states. One thing AM had going for it was the reception, and Henry tuned in to the station for his beloved Minnesota Twins game last night. This morning, to get his blood pumping for his arrival at the Grand Canyon, Henry exchanged Fleetwood Mac for Black Sabbath. Thanks to his older brother, he had honed his listening preferences early, steering clear of disco and the new wave that was becoming popular. His sister, a country girl through and through, lent him some of her collection, which included Alabama, Loretta Lynn, and Waylon Jennings.

The past four days, while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel along with whatever he was listening to, had given him plenty of time to think about college. He’d brought a few issues of the New England Journal of Medicine, The Lancet, and Scientific American, hoping to read through them before starting classes at USD in the fall. From as far back as he could remember, he had always loved science. Putting the pieces together, figuring out a diagnosis—his dad often remarked that was what made him invaluable at the auto shop, as well. That, and his patience when dealing with some of their more difficult customers, since farmers could be very sensitive about their aging pickups and machinery.

Back in his car, after retrieving his map from the front passenger seat, he trailed a finger along the road that led from his current location along Navajo Point to the southern rim. Half an hour later, he spotted a sign: “New Check-Ins ” and made the turn to the Visitor Center.

Pulling into an enormous parking lot, Henry parked behind a red 1966 Chevy Camaro. Once out of his car, he admired the shine that a recent wax job had given the vehicle. “Like it?”

Turning, Henry looked at the young man standing behind him. Around Henry’s age, he was several inches shorter, with a mop of curly black hair, twinkling dark brown eyes, and a slight gap between his two front teeth. “Yours?”

“Yep. A little spit, lots of polish, but my dad and I rebuilt it over the past year. It’s the first model ever made,” the stranger informed Henry, beaming with pride.

Henry nodded, “I know. My dad has had his eye out for one of these forever.” He stuck his hand out. “Hi, I’m Henry.”

“Juan,” the young man shook Henry’s hand. “You know cars?”

With a smile, Henry shrugged. “Yeah. My dad has an auto shop. Well, technically, it used to be my grandpa’s shop.” Henry still missed his Grandpa George, who had suffered a massive heart attack when Henry was fifteen. His grandma, Mary, had found her husband of almost fifty years sitting in the front seat of his car, slumped over the steering wheel. “My dad runs it now, and my older brother works there, too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! My dad and I were kind of guessing about everything when we restored this. He had all of these old manuals lying around in our garage at home. But I guess it all worked out because she got me here all the way from New York.” Juan lovingly stroked the driver’s side door.

“New York? Man, I drove from South Dakota, and I thought that was a haul.” Minnesota was as far east as Henry had ever been, when his family went to the Twin Cities for baseball games. His trek to Arizona had broadened his horizons both west and south.

“What about this view, though?” Juan swept an arm toward the vista. “You ever been to the Grand Canyon before?”

Henry shook his head. “No. It’s unbelievable. Have you ever been to the Badlands in South Dakota?”

“No, why?”

Henry advised him, “You definitely need to go there sometime. It has an otherworldly feel, like this, but different.” On a much smaller scale than the Grand Canyon, the Badlands were paler, more akin to the color of sand, with highlights of silver and peach.

“Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?” Henry shook his head. “Dude, check that out sometime. Froze my ass off there when I went, and got totally drenched, but man…there’s a lot out there to see in the world, I guess.”

Henry agreed. “Yeah, and I can’t wait to see it all.”

The boys ambled over to the line for the sign-in table, which curved around the parking lot. “I heard they’re still looking for at least a hundred more people to work. Seems like a bunch of people either quit or are no-shows,” Juan informed Henry. Yeah, he thought—like his best friends, who should be here with him now for the ultimate experience before college, which Henry supposed was more than likely off the table now, too, for his friends. There was no way Kyle would leave the farm his dad had broken his back to maintain, saving it from being sold off more than once. Kyle had planned to one day be the coach of the Clover Lake football team. Steve had been the only one of the three boys without a firm college plan, just some vague idea about taking some classes over at Beverley Community College until he figured out what he wanted to do with his life.

“Any idea where you’ll be assigned?” Henry offered Juan some of the chips from his backpack.

“Nah, man, I hear they kind of assess you when you get here. I’d love to lead tours while riding a donkey, you know? Did you ever see that episode of The Brady Bunch when they’re in the Grand Canyon? That’s why I came.”

Was he serious? Henry gaped at Juan, worried that he was here based on a TV show that was over a decade old. He hesitated momentarily before answering. “I’m not sure this is going to be like what was on The Brady Bunch.”

“No duh. I’m just sayin’—it would be fun. You should see your face—probably thought I was nuts. Although I did always have a thing for Marcia.” Juan scratched at his chin before he added, “But I wouldn’t throw Jan out of bed either. She’d have to get rid of those glasses, though.” Juan shuddered, visibly distraught at the idea of his dream girl wearing spectacles. “Anyway, my girlfriend is here, too, but she checked in this morning. She’s working at the hotel over there,” Juan pointed off in the distance. “We got here yesterday. Took us three days, with both of us driving, and we only stopped for gas. We actually skipped graduation to be here.”

An hour later, he and Juan were nearly at the front of the line. Henry was starving, so he searched his backpack for the last ham sandwich his mom had made for his journey. He offered half of it to Juan, and the two of them were just finishing their lunch when they were each called to adjacent check-in tables.

“Last name?” A guy wearing a name tag that said “Ben” looked over the top of his sunglasses. Henry guessed him to be a couple of years older,

“Livingston,” he replied. “Henry Livingston, from South Dakota.”

“Okay, Henry Livingston, here’s your name tag. You’re in dorm three, room three-ten. Work assignment is the gift shop at the main entrance. Show up there tomorrow morning at eight for your orientation, which will last all morning. You’ll have a lunch break, and then your training at the gift shop will begin in the afternoon.”

Gift shop? He had at least hoped he’d be working outside, soaking in the landscape. If he wanted to work indoors all summer, he could have stayed in Clover Lake, working at his dad’s garage. “Um, I was hoping maybe to work outside? Help with tours or something like that? I read about it in our newspaper.” The ad in the classifieds section of the Clover Lake Sentinel was why he was here. He’d just gotten his acceptance letter from the University of South Dakota and was circling the classes he planned on taking when the paper arrived. Struck by the idea of a summer-filled adventure, Henry had called Kyle and then Steve, cajoling them both into applying, too.