Page 69 of Big & Lily

A panic I’ve only known once in my life—that moment ?after impact, the screech of metal, the shattering of glass, my sister’s slim body jerking forward and then back as the seat belt stops it—locks its arms around me and pins my feet to the cold forest floor. A scream tries to escape my throat, but those arms are squeezing too hard to let anything out. My brain turns one word over and over.“No, no, no, no, no!”

I can only inch myself forward, hoping to avoid looking over the edge, yet knowing I have no choice in the matter. I am dizzy with fear for what I’ll see. I’m aware that one slip of my foot and I could end up down there with her. I keep my eye on a focal point, a tree growing out of the slanted earth on the other side of the creek I heard before all the shouting started, and will myself to move closer to the edge. How did we get here? What the hell made me think that following my sister to this wild place would solve anything? I haven’t saved my sister. I’ve done the opposite.

Finally, I’m close enough to look down. The ground is falling away at a steep angle, coated with ferns and grasses. Trees hold back rocks and broken branches that pile up like dams, stopped as they tumbled down—just like Lily did, but she isn’t among them. I can make out a slimy path of earthy debris, one she must have made when she slid. At the end of it, near the creek I’d heard from above, is my sister.

She is on her back, her head pointing toward the water. It’s as if she made a snow angel in the mud and dead leaves and broken greenery—her arms and legs splayed. “Lily!” I yell. For a second, she lies there, unresponsive. “Lily, talk to me!” Slowly she puts one hand to her head, and I sob with relief. Then she sits up and looks at her palms and I can see from here—they are covered with blood.

“Lily! Don’t move! I’m coming to help you!”

She doesn’t look up. Is the rushing water drowning out my voice, or is it something worse? I now see blood on her forehead. I remember all those visits to the pediatrician who’d try to assure me head wounds often seem worse than they are because of how much they bleed, but I dismiss it immediately. She could be in shock, she could have a concussion, a skull fracture, a brain hemorrhage. Between Google and being a mom of an accident-prone kid, I’m armed with just enough experience and information to be dangerous—and scared shitless.

Every muscle in my body begs me not to go down there, but every piece of my heart is demanding it—and now. How the hell am I going to do that? I can’t figure out how to step down and into the ravine. It’s not like walking a flight of stairs. It’s steep and wet, and the rocks are loose. “I’m coming, Lily,” I yell again. Pacing back and forth, I dip a toe into the air below me, back up a step, come at it from a different angle. Meanwhile, my sister sits up on the cold ground looking like she has no idea where she is or how one minute, she was telling me off, and the next, she is on a forest floor, confused and bleeding. I decide to back into the ravine. On my hands and knees, I lower myself down. Below me, Lily finally speaks.

“What are you doing?” she yells.

I continue my backward crawl, lowering myself inch by inch, scraping my body across the loose ground, unearthing chunks ofdirt; small rocks fall away from me and roll downhill like the first snowballs of an avalanche. “I’m coming.” I grunt with the effort. “Stay where you are, don’t move.”

“No, don’t come down here!”

“I’m fine, I can do it.” My face is so close to the ground I can taste the earth. Scratchy bits and pieces of the forest have gone down my shirt into my bra, and my knees are sore and cold. I can’t tell how much farther it is to Lily, but I can’t risk what could happen if I look down at her again. I should have scooched on my butt. At least I’d be able to see where I was going.

“No, don’t come down here! Go get help.”

I stop my reverse commando crawl. Walking into the campsite, waking up Brick to admit that we’d snuck out and I now need help pulling Timmy out of the well is not my first—or tenth—choice. “No, I got you, I’m almost there.”

“Christ, Big. Don’t be dumb!”

This time I do turn my head. I want Lily to hear me loud and clear. “I’m not being dumb. I’m saving you, goddamit.”

“Listen to me. I think my wrist is broken. And I’m going to bleed to death if you don’t get some help from someone who knows what they’re doing. Please. Climb back up and get Brick.”

I am clinging to the side of a ravine. Below me is my bleeding sister. But above and back down the trail is a guy who I will surely humiliate myself in front of—once again. I have only myself to blame, going along with this scheme. I groan and start to crawl back up. I grab for a root sticking out of the dirt, and my hiking boot slips on the loose ground. In that instant my other one gives way. The shock of losing my foothold makes me let go of the tree root, and I become the avalanche.

I am sliding on my belly, grasping for something to hold onto. Everything my hand touches is loose, and it comes down with me. My shirt rides up and the ground scrapes against my skin. Suddenly, something grabs my foot, but instead of stopping me, it delivers a searing pain to my ankle, turns me around, and sends me on my way headfirst. After that it’s a series of yelps, and grunts, and banging into God knows what, and the taste of more dirt in my mouth, and possibly the sound of my sister yelling my name.

Finally, I come to a stop.

I’m on my back, blinking up into the sky. Slowly, and with deep groan, I sit up, assessing the damage. I spit a twig out of my mouth. My ears are ringing, and I put my hand to my forehead. No blood. The pain in my lower back is radiating downward, the burn from the bear spray is searing, and my ankle hurts so much I’m queasy. But I’m not dead.

I see Lily only yards away. Her hair is filled with leaves and dirt. The blood dripping down her jawline has splattered onto her collar. She’s holding her ribs and grimacing. “Well, that was stupid,” she says.

I peer back up to the top of the hill. It’s as steep from here. “Shit.” Trying to stand sends pain shooting through my ankle. With effort and some ugly grunting, I roll over onto my stomach and crawl toward my sister. When I reach her, I am drenched with sweat and exhausted. I flop myself back onto my back, and we both lay on the bank of the creek, breathing heavily and staring up at the sky as if we came here to stargaze. “Lil, are you all right?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Okay, well, I realize that you are not, but I want to make sure—”

“You pushed me off a fucking cliff. Myownsister. Pushed me off a fucking cliff. I’m bleeding to death. You want to know if I’m all right?”

I want to share my head wound knowledge with my sister, tell her it probably looks worse than it is, but I think this is not the time. “I’m sorry, Lily.”

“Oh, good. Sorry makes it all fine. What the hell has gotteninto you? The old Big was a lover and a nurturer. Not a mountain serial killer.”

“For crying out loud, we could do without the drama in this moment. I’m hurt, too, you know. And I didn’t push you off the cliff. You tripped and fell. Because you were being a bitch.”

That stops her and leaves her with an open mouth. But only for a second. “Meeee?”

“This isn’t helpful, we’ve got to get out of here. Do you think we can park all the slinging accusations until then?”