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“You mean the Rio Grande Gorge?”
“Yup. The West Rim.”
The Rio Grande Gorge is one of Taos’s highlights; part of it can be viewed from the Gorge Bridge outside town. I’ve driven on it a few times and even walked across it and looked down. It’s a breathtaking sight, but to take a hike and see it from another perspective? I’m all for it.
“When can we start?”
Todd gets up from the bench. “I’m ready when you are.”
“Maybe Sarge can even get a good workout.”
Todd grins. “Oh, he will.”
The 4-mile hike along the West Rim and back to our car takes us an hour and a half to complete. The view is breathtaking, and Todd’s company is a joy. He’s as funny as I remember him and laid back.
Oh, and those tattoos. The man I knew then would never have dreamed of getting one. The man I knew loved the ocean, so he surfed every day, his skin devoid of any ink he’d have to worry would fade in the sun. But there’s no ocean for miles where we are now, only a long winding river at the bottom of the gorge that he tells me he often goes rafting in and sometimes climbs down during search and rescue operations.
I love the conversations we’re having, so different from the ones we used to have ten years ago, of unfulfilled worries and dreams, both too young to know better.
But we’re older now. Wiser, too, probably with a few scars here and there we’ve yet to unearth the longer we spend time together. He’s right to say we’re no longer the same people we used to be, nor would we want to be. I can’t help it. I like this version of Todd very much.
I hope he likes the current version of me.
* * *
After the hike, Todd and I prepare dinner while Sarge, all tuckered out, sleeps on the rug in front of the couch. For our salad, I harvest green beans from the garden, kale, and other greens. Talk about fresh. I’d probably become a vegetarian if I had so many vegetables to gather every day.
As lo-fi music plays from his stereo system, I make the salad while Todd cooks the steak, searing them on the skillet before putting them in the oven. There’s a familiarity to our movements, one that’s been refined through years lived apart and suddenly remembered, me reaching for a pair of salad servers as he gives me room or him reaching for a glass from the cupboard above me.
“Dance with me,” he says, taking my hand and leading me to the center of the kitchen. “The steaks need to rest anyway before we can start eating.”
“For how long?”
He cocks his head toward the timer he’d set next to the stove. “Five minutes.”
We don’t talk as we dance. It’s as if we’re remembering the way we used to move so effortlessly together as if each second he guides me across the floor erases the years we’ve spent apart.
The scent of steak and fresh greens wafts through the air but I can hardly focus on anything except the feeling of being in Todd’s arms again. It feels like coming home after such a long time away.
“I can’t believe you built this place,” I whisper, loving the roughness of his hands.
Todd smiles at me, his eyes filled with pride. “It took a lot of hard work and dedication, but it was worth it. I wanted to create a space where I could escape the city and reconnect with nature.”
I nod, understanding completely. “It’s beautiful here. You’ve done an amazing job.”
“I can even build you a recording studio out here,” he says. “With the right recording equipment, I’m sure the walls are probably thick enough to give you what you need for the right acoustics for sound absorption and diffusion. The isolation, too.”
My heart skips a beat as I stare at him. A recording studio? I’ve been recording my new songs inside the camper but it’s nothing like a recording studio. Not even close.
“You would do that for me?”
“Of course. I want to see you succeed, Devyn. I always have,” he says, his eyes unwavering. “Even if it wasn’t with me.”
I feel a lump form in my throat as I imagine the possibilities. A place where I can record my music without any distractions? A place where I can finally be in control of my career? It’s a dream come true.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, his hand cupping my cheek. “Just promise me that you’ll use it to make the music you were meant to make.”
