Page 28 of A Summer to Save Us

I have to hold on to the branch because my knees are weak. Not true! I never talk in my sleep. Arizona and James would have told me. Or did they not hear it?

River looks down at me. “So, you can, after all. That question is clarified.”

He says it like I’m his project. If I can talk in my sleep, my body still knows how it works. Maybe the gap isn’t as insurmountable as I believed. Have I ever wakened myself up with my own scream? But maybe I’ve only done this since I met River.

He straightens up and stands completely still on the slackline. “I’ve been reading a lot about mutism over the last few nights.”

I’m still perplexed. It’s too much information in too short a time, but he starts talking before I’ve even had a chance to understand.

“You’re mute, but you can speak. There’s a barrier within you that you have to overcome.

It’s like arachnophobia. People who have it aren’t actually afraid of the spider.

It’s a transferred fear. So, you’re not really afraid of speaking. ”

That’s both true and not true.

“Go back to the tent or join me if you dare. I have a leash here.”

I look up. It’s way too high. Come down , I want to shout.

For the first time, it occurs to me that he might be more serious than I was on Old Sheriff.

That he needs help more urgently. That’s the only reason I run to the backpack that’s lying in the meadow between the flock of cranes and grab a climbing harness.

I look at him again. Now he’s smiling. “So you really want to rehearse for our big gig at the end of the summer? Just you and me and our date with heaven?”

I nod, but I don’t know if he sees it. I quickly slip into the harness and go back to the tree, reaching on tiptoe for a thick branch.

As children, we used to climb trees on Granny’s property—James, Ari, and me. But I never dared go as high as my siblings. I always stayed close to Mom.

“You know, you sleep deeply, but I learned a lot about you. Bad things, baby.”

The smoky way baby comes out sends a hot-and-cold shiver of fear and joy across my skin, no matter what he said before. Nobody has ever called me that before, and never has it sounded so sexy and so tender from any mouth.

I pull myself up with a half-ass pull-up and cross my legs over the branch.

Now, I’m hanging like a monkey in a tree.

My hands are sweating, the Handana is slipping, and the wounds underneath still burn from the strain of the safety course in the canyon.

With all my strength, I wiggle around in a spiral motion so that I lie on the branch.

“You’re working your way up, Tucks. How old were you when your mom left?”

My breath catches. How does he know that?

“Item four on your list; ask Mom why.”

With shaky legs, I stand and carefully walk forward on the branch so I can see River. It’s wide enough, and I hold on to another one like it’s a railing.

“The fact that you can ask her means she’s alive. You really wanted that newspaper at the store, so while leafing through it, I spotted Meredith Fox.”

He looked at the newspaper? I didn’t even notice that. But then, he hardly ever sleeps.

“If she’s not your older doppelganger, she must be your mom.”

I’m not that far below him anymore. His light blond strands glow in the dark, and his eyes are smoldering sparks, blacker and yet brighter than the night.

He still seems gloomy, as if a veil of blackness is hanging over him. Like in the Badlands, I’m suddenly afraid he’ll just let go. Right now. He could die. He would definitely die!

My pulse twitches in my throat. Carefully, as if any quick movement from me could trigger him to jump, I pull the black crane out of my shirt pocket and hold it out to River in the palm of my hand.

For you. To let fly .

He shakes his head as if he understands me. “Come up and throw it off the slackline. I’ve already folded and f-l-o-w-n enough origami for two lifetimes today.”

There it is again, the spelling. Always just that one word, as if he can’t pronounce it.

I return the crane to my pocket and climb up to the TreeBuddy around which the line is stretched. The wind blows through the branches, rustling the leaves, and my hands are shaking.

“Come on!” River calls out to me, suddenly seeming less melancholic.

I crouch awkwardly on the branch. He tied the loose end of the leash to the slackline, and I untie the knot and tied the first figure eight. Then, I thread the leash through my harness and place the second knot parallel to the first, just like River showed me.

Despite the safety line, my knees tremble when I put my foot on the line. It’s so high. Crazy high. Way too high.

With wobbly legs, I place my second foot on the slackline and hold on to a branch above my head.

Oh God, I can’t do this . But I want to go to River. He seems so different, and I have to show him that I can be there for him, even without words.

“Good. Now... let go.”

I let go and stand on the line with my hands free, but I can grab the branch right away if I need to.

“Hey, Tucks.” River stands there with his arms outstretched, still holding the bottle in one hand as if he’s fused to it, with a cigarette butt in the other. “It’s more difficult when two people use a line. Be careful.”

Hesitantly, I take a step forward. The line is tighter than any I’ve run, and it feels different. Maybe that’s also because of the height; even though it’s hovering fifteen feet above the ground, I’m looking down from about twenty feet. That’s twice as high as the view from my room.

Uneasy, I look at River, who is monitoring my every move.

“When I want to eat something, my favorite is fried rice with chicken and frozen peas. That is important, Kentucky. The peas. Memorize it. They should definitely be from the freezer.”

I’m sorry, what? I giggle silently.

He nods at me. “I haven’t seen my parents in almost five years.

My brother hates me; I hate my brother.” I see him swallow.

From one second to the next, he transforms again.

“It’s not that I regret it, Tucks. I never had a real family.

I had no idea what it was.” He runs up to me and flicks the butt downward.

He throws the bottle after it and stretches his arms toward me.

“Breathe. No fear, just respect. Just walk, don’t think. ”

My knees are shaking, and I feel the wind under my arms and around me. I put my right foot in front of my left. The line descends a bit, but I feel like it bends all the way to the ground.

River stays relaxed. “That’s good. A few more steps.”

I stop and shake my head. I can still go back. Suddenly, I’m scared shitless. What if the line breaks?

I can’t .

“I’ll tell you something, Tucks. Come on...”

I breathe the clear air into my lungs. River needs me, I feel that, so I take the next step.

“I do too much of a lot of things and too little of some things. I smoke, I drink, I don’t sleep.

I eat irregularly... I love opposites. Dream reality.

Black light. Eerily beautiful. That’s true poetry.

.. the only mystery... opposites, baby!” He holds out his hand, and I take another step toward him, but he backs up so I can’t reach him.

“I’m the guy your dad should have warned you about. The nation’s badass. I’ve lived in over thirty different states and over thirty houses, many of which were condemned. Come!”

I’m hypnotized by him, putting one foot in front of the other. Finally, he’s telling me something about himself.

“My life is soaked in the butterfly effect, a small mistake that started the storm in the desert, baby...”

Baby . A wild fluttering sweeps through my heart, swirling feelings like autumn leaves. My mouth tingles from all the things I want to ask him.

Who are you? What happened to you? Why do you call the place you come from hell? Why do you have to save me?

Without noticing, I’m suddenly close to him, in the middle of the line.

“You’re as pale as a ghost. This scares you.”

I nod slowly as if the movement might unbalance me.

“That’s normal. This height is different, even with a belt. Vertigo is a natural phenomenon. You get the impression that your body no longer does what you want it to. This can lead to panic, but vertigo can be trained.”

Is that why we’re doing this? So I can join him on the highline later?

He looks at me thoughtfully, his gaze stopping somewhere at waist height.

My heart is suddenly pounding even harder. With every breath, I feel the slackline swaying. Everything about me is shaking, and I feel like I’m about to fall and... oh God, maybe River will fall too.

“Hey,” he says softly, “I’m here. What I’m telling you now is important. I want you to stay calm and don’t make any frantic movements. Promise?”

I nod, my face frozen.

“You tied the leash incorrectly. That’s not a double eight.”

My knees almost give out.

“But you’re not in danger if you’re up here with me.

Never. I can hold us both, you and me, and I can catch us both if we fall,” he whispers, and he’s so close to me I can feel his warm breath in the cool night air.

Unfortunately, I have no idea if what he’s telling me is the truth. Maybe he just wants to calm me down.

On a stupid impulse, I look at the ground. It fades into the darkness and looks endlessly far away.

“Look at me,” River says softly, clutching the knot. “Only me. And if possible, don’t move.”

Oh my God!

I do what he says. My gaze slides from his mouth with its teasing, self-confident curve, over his straight nose to his glittering eyes.

Suddenly, all I see is them. They’re so clear, it hurts to look, and for a few breaths, it’s as if I see the infinite depths of the sky with a hundred cranes flying at night.

“Good,” he murmurs. “That’s good.” He’s so close I can’t breathe. He’s so close, I’m about to jump. He looks at me, but his hands are doing something with the rope. Okay, maybe he can fold origami blindfolded.

“Breathe into your stomach.” River doesn’t break eye contact.