After coming back from my mother's funeral back in Michigan, I decided to leave everything and go die out in the mountains.
I left most everything where it was, except I put my checkbook out on the desk. I paid all my bills a month ahead of time. I did not pack anything. I did not throw anything away. That all seemed like a bunch of time wasting.
The day sunny, warm even for a February. Clear sky, perhaps hazy, and if I'd hiked up Camelback Mountain, in the middle of Phoenix, I'm sure I would have seen the brown smog that the Phoenicians breathe every day.
Instead, I got in my truck and drove over to the Spearmint Rhino by the airport. Did I actually know my sister Jenna would be working the lunch shift? No, just a feeling.
No cover during lunch, not that it mattered. Inside, amazingly, there was an all-you-can-eat taco bar, so that, instead of men sitting at tables sipping over-priced drinks and staring lecherously at scantily-clad young women, they were sitting at tables stuffing their faces with tacos, drinking over-priced drinks and staring lecherously at scantily-clad young women. It was almost like eating the all-you-can-eat tacos symbolized something, like how those men would actually like to treat those women. In any case, what, at night, did not have much sex appeal, at noon had less, and I felt bad for the girl working the pole. She seemed to know it, and there was nothing she could do to get any good tips.
Jenna was working the floor, the only woman with short hair in the whole place, and tattoo sleeves on both arms. She was in the middle of a lap dance for a guy holding a taco in his left hand and laughing with his buddies. I tried to ignore the weirdness of seeing my sister's breasts. I caught her eye and waited at the bar.
She came over, tucking her wad of bills in the front of her thong. She had a new tattoo on her stomach: An eagle holding a snake. Paul, what are you doing here?
I need you to drive me somewhere.
Now?
Yes.
I'm working.
I pulled out my wallet. How much to cover you for the rest of the shift?
She looked sad. I don't know. I don't want your money.
I gave her two hundred dollars. All that I had on me. She took it and went off to tell her boss, coming back out in jeans and a black Ramones t-shirt and a leather jacket. We went out to my truck. I held out the keys to her. Can you drive a stick?
She took them. Yes. You want me to drive you?
That's what I said.
Why? What's going on? Where are we going?
I pointed east to the Superstition Mountains. There. Get on Sixty.
Once we were heading east, she asked, How was the funeral?
Fine. A fitting end.
Are you being sarcastic?
Maybe.
Did you really want me to go?
I don't think you would have enjoyed yourself.
It's just, I left that place a long time ago. I never want to go back.
I understand. I didn't either.
Are you saying it wasn't fair you had to go back?
No. I don't think so. I think I was hoping you might...bury some of your demons.
She drove silently for a while. I appreciate you wanting to help me, Paul. I'm sorry I'm such a fuckup.
Maybe if you didn't think of yourself as a fuckup, you wouldn't be.
It's that easy?
I started to cry.
Goddammit Paul, stop it! Now I'm going to do it!
So we cried driving down 60, south of the Superstitions. I showed her the turn off, onto a wide dirt road going north. At first we drove by saguaro cactus waving hello, or goodbye, and long skinny ocotillo, orange and yellow flowers in full bloom. Barrel cacti, some with flowers also. A cholla cactus forest for a while, looking soft and cuddly as teddy bears. As we gained some elevation, the cacti faded and more shrubbery appeared, sometimes thick on the edge of the road. Palo verdes, which look 'pale' green though 'palo verde' actually means green branch. Un falso amigo, o amigo falso. After a couple miles, the road ran into a river, or stream, and started up on the other side. Jenna stopped the truck.
It's ok, I said. It's shallow. Just put the truck in four wheel drive.
She did and eased us through. I looked upstream as we crossed. All that water coming at us.
The road continued, and soon turned into a two-track after a few miles. Bushes and branches scraping the side of the truck. Arizona pinstripes.
Paul, what are we doing out here?
It's a surprise.
I don't want a surprise.
We reached the end of the road, at a Forest Service trailhead, with a small gravel parking lot ringed by a barbed wire fence. Surprisingly, there were a couple cars there.
Here?
Here.
I don't want to go for a hike, Paul.
Don't worry, you're not.
Am I parking?
No, just let me off here.
Let you off? Here? She stopped the truck, keeping it running. Then what do I do?
I opened the door and slid out. I'm going up in the mountains to camp.
Paul, you don't have a tent, or a fucking backpack. Or fucking anything.
I've got a camp out here. I'm trying to see how long I can survive.
Don't you have a job?
I quit.
She continued to stare. When do I come pick you up?
I'll call you.
With what? You don't have your phone.
I'll come down and find a phone. Somebody's house.
Are you fucking insane?
I sighed. Go home. I'm giving you my house. And the truck. Everything. Mom's house too. I made the arrangements already.
Wait, what? What the fuck are you talking about?
I'm done. I don't want it anymore.
Don't want what?
All the stuff. Life. Enough. Basta.
Paul, what the fuck are you talking about?
I sighed again. Jenna, I just want to leave. I just want to...die.
What?! What are you gonna go shoot yourself out here?
I shook my head. No. Not sure. I just want to leave everything and just wait out here until I die.
She stared at me, mouth open. Are you fucking crazy?
No. I don't think so. But maybe crazy people don't think they're crazy? Anyway, I just want to say...goodbye.
Goodbye? Are you fucking serious? Are you on meth?
I started crying. She always did that to me. Jenna, please, just take the truck and the house. Use them how you want. I'm trying to help you.
She squeezed the steering wheel with both hands, turning her face down and sobbing. I can't.
Sure you can. Look, Jenna, both our lives suck right now, for different reasons maybe, but I'm trying to make it so yours will suck less.
You're just giving me your house.
Yes.
And mom's.
It should be sold soon. I left the info with the lawyer's number. He'll be contacting you. You might have to travel back to Michigan though. Sorry.
She sobbed again. I'm sorry.
So am I. Will you please just let me do this?
You really want this?
Yes.
She nodded slowly. Then ok. I'm sad though.
I noticed.
I feel like you pity me.
I didn't say anything. I hadn't thought that, but once she said it, it sounded true.
I don't want you to pity me.
Ok, I won't. I promise. But I still would like to help you. You're the only family I have. I want you to have this.
I don't want your shit if it means you have to die. That's fucking stupid!
Jenna, I think you are the only person who might understand what I'm about to say: I have been in pain for my whole life. Not physical pain, but mental. I have not been happy, ever, for any extended amount of time. Nothing I do seems right. I walk around with a big lump in my chest from feeling sad and depressed and I'm sick of it. Do you understand what I mean?
She sniffed. Yes....
Do you understand how I might just want to stop? Maybe start over somewhere else?
She nodded. Ok. I get it. She looked at me and put the truck in gear. I love you Paul.
I was stunned. We had never said that to each other. You do?
She laughed, with tears still running down her cheeks. You doubt me?
I didn't know what to say. She suddenly took the truck back out of gear, hopped out of the cab and ran around to me, hugging me and kissing me on the cheek. Ok. Are you sure, bro?
I nodded, though my stomach felt as empty and black.
She ran back around, hopped in, put the truck in gear, and peeled out, sending bits of gravel flying at me. I covered my face and swore and watched her drive away. Goodbye Sis.
I turned to the trailhead. A Forest Service sign declared that I was about to enter the Superstition Wilderness. Buckhorn cactus poking up around it. Cat-claw shrubs. Everything in Arizona wants to poke, sting, or bite you. The sky clear, the sun about two-thirds on its way east. A slight breeze. Downhill, the valley we had just come up, out into the flats where 60 was. Uphill, mountains. More scrub, a lot of oak, but soon, close, huge rock cliffs.
