“Lisette?” a voice called from above me.
It was Michael. It was always Michael.
“I’m here,” I cried.
All of a sudden, it was as if I could let myself feel again now that Michael was here. The numbness of my situation faded, and I started to cry. I felt all the pain in my leg, and the coldness on my skin, and I felt scared, and miserable, and relieved all at the same time.
“I’m here,” I mumbled in softer cries that made my chest shake and hurt.
“I’m coming,” he said. “You’ll be okay.”
I saw the beam of light shine down at me from the flashlight that Michael had pulled out of his pocket. It enabled me to see how far down I had fallen, and when I turned my head, I could see how wide the ledge was that I was laying on. Damn I had been lucky; I very easily could have missed this protruding slate of rock and fallen the entire rest of the way down the mountain to my death. I watched as Michael surveyed the situation and tried to figure out the best way to get to me. It was as if he had appeared out of nowhere to save me; just like he did at the hospital.
“Okay, there’s a slope on the side of the mountain that wraps around next to where you are. I’m going to walk down that way and then I think I can reach you. You won’t see me for a few minutes, but I’ll be there. Are you hurt?” he called down.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “I can’t move my leg.”
“Alright,” Michael said. “I’m coming down to get you. Just hang tight.”
He disappeared from view, just like he said he would, and I waited. While I waited, I thought about him, and about us. I wondered how much longer we could both last without knowing for sure that we were definitely not brother and sister. It was the cruelest kind of torture; not being able to have each other but also not being able to let each other go. Not that it mattered because I wouldn’t be able to let Michael go no matter what, and as bad as it might have sounded, I was ready to forget about the whole thing and pretend that we had never heard anything about possibly having the same father. But I knew that Michael wouldn’t let go of it until he had solid proof.
“Hey,” I heard his voice call from somewhere beside me.
I turned my head to look and saw Michael coming toward me. His flashlight illuminated that there was a thin edge of rocky mountainside that stretched from the slope that he had walked down, onto the ledge where I was laying. He walked slowly toward me, making sure that his footing was stable and that the terrain was secure. When he reached me, he dropped down onto his knees and immediately began to look me over and assess what injuries I had suffered.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked me.
“Everywhere.” I tried to laugh a little at my own pathetic response, but when I shook my ribcage, it hurt so much that I forced myself to stop and be still.
“Okay, let me rephrase that,” he said. “Where does it hurt the most?”
“My leg,” I answered.
Michael pulled a utility knife out of his pocket.
“Wow, you really come prepared,” I teased.
I was trying anything I could do to make the situation less awful and the mood less tense as Michael cut open the leg of my jeans. His wince and audible gasp let me know that my leg was in rough shape.
“Is it broken?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not a doctor,” he said, “but it looks like shit.”
I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit then. I guess when you hit rock bottom, literally, things start to become funnier. The cold air bit at the open wounds on my now-exposed leg, and I could feel that it must have been bleeding a lot because the ???
“Yeah, I can’t say that I’ve ever heard a doctor give that exact diagnosis before,” I said.
“Alright, I’m going to lift you up,” he said, ignoring my banter and focusing on the more serious matter at hand. “And then I’m going to carry you back up the mountain slope. You’ll need to try to hold on tight, and wrap your arms around my neck, okay?”
“Are you going to be able to do that?” I asked. “It’s really narrow.”
“Yes,” he said with confidence. “I can do it. Just don’t let go.”
“I was never planning on letting go,” I said.
Michael looked at me for a couple of seconds and we got lost in each other’s eyes. He knew, just as much as I did, that I was referring to more than just this mountainside rescue attempt. And I could see in his own eyes that he wasn’t going to ever let go either. Before he started to pick me up, I asked him a question.
“How did you find me? I didn’t even scream.”
“Yes you did,” he said. “You screamed as soon as you tripped and started to fall.”
“Oh that’s right, I do remember doing—”
I stopped mid-sentence.
“Wait a minute. How did you know that I screamed right after I tripped? Were you here?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m always here, Lisette. I would never leave you. As soon as I saw you leave the campsite, I followed you. When I could tell that you were lost, I was getting ready to come and get you, but then you tripped. I saw you, and I came to help you.”
“But I didn’t see you,” I said. “And I was looking everywhere. Didn’t you see me looking for you?”
“Yes,” he said as he hung his head and looked down at the ground. “But I wasn’t ready to come back yet. I was watching you at a distance because I just wanted to make sure that you were safe.”
“Yeah? How did that work out?” I wasn’t trying to be mean. But I did after all, wind up in this predicament because of Michael running off in anger.
“Not well,” he said flatly. “I’m sorry.”
I sighed and reached a hand up to touch his cheek. My whole body hurt when I moved.
