Escape

    Grit in my nose and clumps of hard mucus made breathing difficult.  There was a whistle when breathing through my nose; of course, it may be broken also.  There was really no way to tell.  Inside, my mouth was covered in a fine grit from having been open the hour or two I had managed to doze, a sip of water would have been gratefully welcomed.  Ribs reverberated and clicked audibly with every breath, regardless of how shallow.  In a sense, I was grateful that the downhill crash left me only able to move my head and left arm.  They were the only parts that could feel pain.  My eyes were cemented shut with grit and weeping; I did not want to open them.  But I did.

    As my eyelids roughly parted they slid over desiccated orbs, coarse with sand, dust, and dried lubricants.  I was lying diagonally on the hill, thankfully with my head above my body.  Somewhere below me was my bike, the front end had slid on sand, caught on a rock and sent me over the handlebars and into a rock patch.  I had landed on my face.  Several teeth could be pushed around with my tongue. I could feel one that was missing and a couple that were broken.  It felt kind of good.

    It was dawn and soft pink could be seen on the full bellies of the graying clouds.  Past the sandstone saddle and rising ridge across the swale, sparse green shrubs and a single dying Pacific Madrone could be seen.  The Pacific Ocean was visible, three perhaps five miles away.  So close.  I would never sit in the surf and watch another sunset.  I was prepared for most anything, but not this; not Pam leaving.

    She needed to find herself.  I hadn’t known she was lost, but I suppose that was my fault.  Pam said she still loved me, just not enough to stay married to me.  When I told her about this trip, biking across the Baja peninsula, she’d said I wasn’t ready.  I guess it turned out she was right.  But that was okay, I didn’t have much of a life with her, and without her I had none.  I knew I existed though, because of the pain.  I still enjoyed the physical pain, not quite as much as when I was younger, it was still comforting though, a hell of a way to validate one’s existence.  The emotional pain was unbearable, it always had been.  I had tried to lose it in the desert wilderness, to pedal past it and breathe it out of my psyche.  In a way it had worked, by tomorrow I wouldn’t have a psyche, there would be no more ‘me’.  Most likely I would cease to exist before today’s sunset.  It would be nice to see one more sunset though, maybe I would last.

    We’d met the year between college and grad school.  At the time I had a promising career, but over the years it hadn’t panned out.  From the moment I first saw her she was irresistible to me.  She would smile and my world brighten.  She made me feel like someone important like I mattered and had a place.  Her eyes were soft, compassionate and empathetic.  Babies, puppies and kittens were irresistible to her, and she irresistible to them.  Over the years we seemed to always have had a stray in the house, a stray kid lots of times, she was good that way.  I’d liked that.  She’d seen through me before either of us had spoken a word, she knew me, the real me.  I guess it turned out the real me didn’t do much for her. 

    Maybe she had more love to give than one man was capable of accepting, or than I was able to absorb.  The fact was she didn’t want me anymore.

    I am not really sure when Pam and I parted, if it was when the kids were all gone or sometime before that.  It may have been ten or twelve years ago when we were busy with life, maybe it was the day after our first child and she knew I was bound to her and the child.  Perhaps we never were together; maybe I was the only one that thought we had a relationship.  It didn’t matter; my life would end the same, alone, paralyzed physically and emotionally.  I think she had called it unavailable.  Funny concept unavailable, I'd always thought for something to be unavailable it had to be wanted.  One more instance, I suppose, where I had it all wrong.

    My eyes welled with tears; I didn't think there was that much moisture left in my body.  My lips were dried, split and caked with dirt and dried blood, the upper lip felt swollen.  I was parched; turning my head the bike came into view, maybe three feet below.  There was water in the four bottles in the cages.  I couldn’t get to any of it.  From one bottle, water slowly dripped, forming a small damp spot beneath, where the dry earth attempted to slake its ever present thirst.  Motionless, a horned lizard was in the bottle's shade, waiting for the next drip, an unexpected wealth in this harsh environment.  The lizard’s expressionless black eyes gazed through me.  Seeing everything and nothing; the void of me.

    I started awake, suddenly opening my eyes, blinded by the sun high in the now cloudless sky.  There was a soft hiss and flapping at my side.  My face, arms, and legs were burning, the sun’s radiation frying my skin.  My tongue was thick and dry.  I brought my hand to shade my eyes, and there was a sudden startled movement to my side, followed by another gentle hiss.  Rolling my head, three Turkey Vultures came into view.  I waved at them and two flew to roost in the dead Madrone.  The one that remained walked beyond my field of view.  There was a numb tug on my leg.  Suddenly I knew why I had awoken.  Covering my eyes with my hand I felt more tears, a waste of moisture.  I had wanted to escape; I hadn’t wanted to die alone.