AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m perfect,” I say, running my fingertips up and down along the base of her spine. “Just perfect.”
29
zeke
“How far is this waterfall?”I ask, squinting into the sun that filters down through the trees overhead.
“I think it’s a mile?” Freddy says from ahead of me as we climb.
“You sure you’re up for this?” I still can’t believe he’s off crutches and has nothing more than a soft brace around his knee. After that injury, it was hard to picture him walking, much less hiking along the Columbia River Gorge.
“Come on, brah,” he says, slowing to let me catch up. “There are kids on this hike. I can manage this.”
It’s true. As we crest the small hill, a family of four passes the other direction with a golden retriever. The youngest looks to be about five and seems to have managed the trail just fine.
It’s been a while since I’ve hiked the gorge, but I don’t know that I’ve ever been to Wahclella Falls. I can already see why this is a popular hike. The trail hugs the canyon wall, alongside a river of icy snowmelt. As we approach a footbridge ahead, Freddy stops and turns to the rock wall to his left.
“Brah,” he says, pulling off his hat and grinning. I catch up and grin at the waterfall that trickles down the wall, close enough that we could reach it and touch it if we wanted to.
“When are you flying out? For camp?” I ask.
It’s weird that I don’t know. But I haven’t exactly asked. In fact, this might be the first time we’ve spent together, just the two of us, since early this summer. Things started to feel weird when he and Faye started hanging out so much. But everything has shifted recently and I’m leaving for camp Tuesday afternoon. It’s time to bury this hatchet—or whatever it is.
Freddy approaches a rock staircase and slows. He seems to do better with ramps and gradual elevation change. We climb slowly, he moves carefully, gingerly, until we’re rewarded with a stunning vista of the scant riverbed below, dried out from the long, dry summer.
“I’m not,” he finally says.
I stop, hands on my hips. “What do you mean, you’re not?”
He keeps going, but I don’t.
“Freddy?”
He stops and turns around, lips pressed together. He lifts the brim of his hat and scrubs a hand beneath it, pushing back his already sweaty blond hair that’s slipped.
“Ask me what I’m doing this fall,” he says with a half grin.
I shrug. “What are you doing this fall?”
“Taking classes at Portland University.”
“Why?” I ask. I’ve been playing with Freddy for five years now and he’s never been one to keep anything big like this close to the vest.
“I’m done, brother,” he says. And the way his voice goes gravelly, I know this is killing him. He starts walking again, and I move to catch up.
“You don’t have to be done if you don’t want to be,” I say.
“I do, Zeke. I’m done with the league.”
“Was this management? Those fuckers—”
“It wasn’t the team. It was me.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, slowing as another young family passes. I nod at the mother who carries a sleeping baby in a hiking backpack.
“It’s too much risk. I could either have a good prognosis, healthy life, not too much pain if I quit now, live normally. Or I could maybe have a few more years in the league, plagued by pain and a high likelihood of greater injury. More surgeries down the line.”
“You don’t know that.”
