COSMOS | Complete

THE WATERFALL: 1

This time, I'm the one to call Aaron. I ask if he wants to go on a hike, and he complies without a second thought.

He picks me up from my doorstep in his sportscar. Sleek and shiny as ever, it rolls into my driveway silently, the sunlight glinting off the fresh paint and making me squint.

"Conspicuous ride," I muse, dumping my bag into the trunk. I climb into the seat next to him, easing into the air-conditioned leather seat. The interior of the car is jet-black, and while it should have sucked in all the heat, the seats remain comfortably cool. I figure the seat adjusts the temperature itself – there's a dial of buttons on one of the armrests.

Aaron pulls out of the driveway, setting the car in an easy cruise down the road. "I think this one is one of the boring ones I own," he says. I stare at him, but he isn't kidding. Old habits die hard.

The ride is laid-back and serene, the car's engine completely silent. The tires absorb most of the shock, leaving a still, tremor-less drive. If I closed my eyes, I could mistake the seat for my own bed.

Aaron switches on the radio, and my head lazily lulls to the music. "Your car is making me tired," I remark.

"Best way to get girls." Aaron winks. "One ride in this, take 'em to your room and your bed, and bam-" he snaps his fingers " – you got yourself a good night."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks for advice I'll never use."

"No problem."

After ten blissful minutes, we pull into the exterior of the forest. I immediately spot the crumbly trail that we took the other night, looking much different – now, I can actually see where I'm going.

I swing my bag on my back and follow Aaron down the trail. He told me to wear a swimsuit, and I have a t-shirt and shorts on over my one piece. The only source of water that I can think of is the waterfall, and the imagination of what Aaron has planned sends excited chills down my spine. He's always been full of surprises, but I have a shaky feeling about this particular one.

The walk through the forest is much easier than it was before. I pay attention to the hidden rocks and pebbles, and manage to keep up with Aaron (with him walking slower than his normal pace, of course). Without having to worry about the obstacles as much, I'm free to savor the wild world around me and drink it in.

The trees are a lighter green than I remember, probably due to my dark surroundings my first time. They're lush and swaying and gentle, beckoning us deeper into their home, bidding us safe travels. Aaron points out his favorite spots to me along the trail. He has tiny alcoves here and there, disguised by bushes, all standing out with a tiny 'A' hidden in each one. In some, he's carved the letter in nearby dead trees – in others, he spells it out with littered branches. Little by little, Aaron has turned the forest into his second home, one that doesn't belong to anyone else. And, he's letting me in.

"This place is amazing," I say.

Aaron glances back at me, grinning. "That's a first."

He continues to answer my silent question. "I've taken Chris and some other people back here, hoping they'd enjoy it as much as you. It's always the same – it's just another forest to them, just some more leaves."

He kicks at a clutter of branches by his feet as he walks.

"They get bored in here. They don't like hikes, they like sports."

"They like things they already know very well," I conclude.

We journey further on, the walk shorter than I remember. Perhaps it's because I'm not scared for my life every five seconds and we're able to move at a faster pace, but soon enough, we're at the same flat stone I lounged on the other night.

"'God's gift'," I remember, laughing. Aaron sits down next to me, smiling at our surroundings. "This whole place is God's gift," he responds.

We sit there for a bit, simply relaxing in the greenery. Sunlight dapples from the tiny openings between the leaves, dancing along the dirt ground. The occasional breeze stirs dead leaves, making them prance and twirl. I think of the beach party a few weeks ago, and I think of how I was much like those leaves, but they move to music that isn't there.

"That other night, after the drive-in, was my third time here."

Aaron turns to me, curious. "To this forest?"

"To any forest." I laugh quietly, my mind going back to memories with a man who I can't picture, though I know it's my father. "My dad didn't let me go to many places, especially empty woods."

Aaron shares a knowing look. "Your face-blindness." It isn't a question, it's an answer. He doesn't look pitiful or sad – he says it like it's nothing strange, something completely normal. I thank him for that. He's the only outsider who's ever thought of me and my disorder that way, and probably the last.

I nod. Without having to glance at him, I can pull his face up in my mind. It's surreal, and impossible. To be able do that with every person in my life ... it would be ground breaking.

"I wish I were you," Aaron says softly. "To not know so many of the current people in my life ... that would be a gift."

"Just wait until you can't recognize Chris," I respond bitterly.

Aaron smiles sadly, looking at me. "Seems like we both have our own demons."

"Yet another thing we can relate on."