Before You Go

chapter thirty-one

Leon

Serena isn't happy about giving me a free pass up Whistler Mountain, but after several minutes of hearing an earful of complaints from her and a very convincing argument from Eliza, she finally caves. She doesn't fail to let me know that if she loses her job she's coming after me and all my money. Although Serena's tone scares me a little, I'm positive she won't live up to that threat. She's got a mouth, but she's a good person who has her heart set in the right direction. I'm glad Liz was able to surround herself with good friends.

The ride up to the top of the mountain takes about twenty-five minutes. During that time, Liz and I don't talk much. I think our lack of conversation is mainly based on the fact that there are several other people on the gondola, but also because we haven't gone out alone together, in public, for years. And, depending on which hike we choose to go on, it's been years since we've spent this much time together when it's just the two of us. I'm excluding the Farmer's Market because we were too busy with customers to spend time together for a long period.

As much as I hate to admit it, I'm nervous about spending time with Liz. She might be taking me up here to yell at me or even sink my body to the bottom of one of the lakes. I don't know why she decided we were going to spend the day together, but anything Liz does is for a reason.

At the top, Liz and I take a left and veer in the direction of the Inukshuk. It's busy, with large groups of tourists taking their time as they admire the beauty Whistler has to offer.

I hate it.

With these large groups, Liz and I have to wind around them and deal with their slow, gawking pace; it's preventing us from talking. And I desperately want to break this silence that's building between us. I'm capable of telling her what happened to Mom. I'm capable of teasing her and making her laugh. I can deal with Drunk Liz. So why can I hardly bear being on top of a mountain with her? Despite the open alpine air, I feel as though I'm suffocating.

"Want to do the High Note trail?" Liz asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.

I adjust the straps of my backpack and focus on the contents to calm my nerves: two water bottles, a sandwich, and a slice of peach pie from dessert last night. "That, uh, sounds perfect," I reply.

The way my voice shakes doesn't seem to bother Liz; she turns around and begins heading for the trail, winding her way through awestruck tourists and their ignorance. As I follow her, I begin to reminisce about all the times we came up here when we were growing up. It puts a heavy weight on my heart. I'm the reason our memories have become bittersweet.

We pass by the Inukshuk and begin our descent down a small incline. The beginning of the trail is much the same: downhill and rugged. We have to climb down from rocks that are protrusive to the path and avoid slipping in loose gravel for the first ten minutes, but it eventually mellows out into a rolling trail. The terrain is still uneven, but it's easy to combat. And, all around us, there are astounding views of Black Tusk and Cheakamus Lake, as well as alpine habitat and birds in general. I take a deep breath to clear my head. While the silence is blistering, I'm caught in the middle of remembering why I love High Note Trail. Up here, it feels like the rest of the world is beneath your feet. And it's absolutely stunning.