Ella and I awoke from our naps inside our beautiful wooden cabin.
mmm... I stretched like a cat and curled my toes and fingers. I can't imagine anything much nicer than waking up from a nap and finding myself tucked away in a cabin like this... mmm... yes. This is one of the nicest things about moving this quickly and taking an excessive amount of naps. Sometimes I wake up and forget where I am. And sometimes remembering where I am can be such a delightful surprise.
"Definitely the nicest place I've stayed in Mexico so far."
I moseyed out into the crisp evening air where Brendon and Orange Cat sat on the porch, still deep in conversation regarding the world's problems and the solving thereof.
"I'm going to walk up to reception to Skype Boy. Want to meet at the internet cafe in town, watch the sunset and then go for dinner?"
 |
| you wish your walk to reception looked like this. ;) |
I Skyped Boy and then ambled into town.
Perhaps a bit more slowly than usual.
'Cos this is what I was ambling past.
The walk from Puestra del Sol into town is about 500 meters.
Give or take.
The road is narrow.
The road is winding.
The road has 30 meter drop offs.
The road has 2 meter drop offs.
Being a bus driver over these mountains would give me current traumatic stress disorder. Good god, HOW do those guys do it? Day after day after day... it's psychotic. So dangerous.
I found my friends at the Tourist Information Center (sans information) with internet that sometimes works and very rudely showed them pictures of the sunset they'd just missed.
We enjoyed the same quesadillas as the night before and with full bellies, began the walk back to Puestra del Sol.
It was pitch black.
A few twinkling stars.
But the moon hid behind the mountains.
When my left foot stepped in front of my right, it stepped out into nothing and hoped the road would be there to meet it and that my right foot would follow shortly.
"We're going to find Edwin and get the shrooms," Brendon told us at the fork in the road, motioning to Orange Cat.
"Great. We'll pick up milk for hot chocolate and walk back to our cabin. Meet you there?" I motioned to Ella.
"Sure, sounds good.
Have I ever walked in such darkness? I thought, clutching the carton of milk painted with a cartoon cow in my left hand. I feel like I'm in a cave and the guide just turned off all the lights and asked us to try to see our hands in front of our faces.
Right foot?
Yes.
Left foot?
Yes.
Cars whizzed past on the narrow road. I moved to the side.
Left foot?
Yes.
Ella and I chatted about walking alone at night in London versus walking alone at night along the river trail in Colorado.
Almost there... I mean, I love walking in the dark... but this is just too much. Even for the seasoned night-walker that I am. What with the cars and the drop offs and not being able to see ANYTHING...
Car rumble.
Blinding car lights.
Left foot?
...
No.
...
......
...
I fell into the absolute blackness.
That moment
lasted
longer
than forever.
That moment
of not knowing
whether or not the cliff I'd just stepped into nothing over
had a something waiting to meet me in two meters
or a something waiting waiting to meet me in thirty.
That moment
of suspension
dangling in helplessness.
That moment
of fear
adrenaline expanding my senses...
That moment
will remain with me for as long as I am capable of remembering
any moments at all.
The ground came hard.
I felt the air go from my belly.
"oooOOOF."
My head snap back.
"oh."
A searing pain stab through my right knee.
"FUCK."
I rolled.
I reached.
Hands crawling over prickly branches.
Knees dragging underneath me.
Stinging.
Searing.
Wet.
Blood?
"Have you stopped rolling?" Ella called down to me.
"Yes," my breath came in short spurts.
What now?
I squinted my eyes in the darkness and brushed the ground with my fingertips, searching for things I may have dropped.
Milk.
"I smashed the carton of milk," I moaned. "No hot chocolate."
"It's okay. Can you get up?"
I limped to the wall over which I'd fallen and sent my hands searching, praying for the top. They just reached.
Instead of being discouraged at how far I'd have to lift my mangled body,
I dug in my fingers
whitened my knuckles
and pulled.
Adrenaline showed me a part of myself
I've never really seen before.
I shot over the wall
in seconds.
We hobbled back to reception.
"Are you okay?" asked Ella along the way.
"It's a lot," I gritted my teeth, lifted my pants leg and felt the wetness coursing down my thigh. "I can't see anything. Maybe it's just spilled milk." "
That. Is incredibly optimistic, Bourget. I don't think even Orange Cat would give it 50-50 for being spilled milk.
We made it to reception (I immediately looked around to see if there was any milk for sale. Girl has her priorities straight. Ahem. Hot chocolate) and I lifted my pants leg again to show the lady on duty my bullet hole-esque wound in lieu of trying to speak to her in Spanish.
She got the picture pretty quickly and then went to get the first aid kit.
The hole in my leg resembled the chorizo I like so much in picnics.
I felt nauseous.
"I can't look at it."
I've never felt such a deep pain before.
And the tears came.
Tears of pain.
It's so much. What do I do with all this?
Tears of gratitude for the ground meeting me in a little over two meters as opposed to a little under thirty.
What if it had been thirty? It could have so easily been thirty. Jesus.
Tears of fear. About having a leg with a chorizo bullet hole so far away from "home".
I want to be in Cathy's TV room right now. With the tea and the puppies and the Greek yogurt and the Sherlock Holmes. And my parents close by and Boy on the couch with me.
Tears of bitterness.
How stupid was that? How fucking stupid was that?
Ella and the woman at reception wiped away the blood and doused the wound with some fizzling, burning antiseptic.
"Thanks for doing this," I told Ella with my face turned away.
Simple kid bandaids were stuck over the chorizo.
Like I scraped my elbow, or something.
Tape over the bandaids.
Umm... okay. Well, at least it's clean.
Brendon and Orange Cat blew in the front door.
I saw the color drain from Mačka's sunburnt face.
"Cat..." he rushed to me. "I'm so sorry, Cat."
We made it down the hill to our cabaña at the bottom.
The walk agitated the chorizo again and soaked my kid bandaids through with blood.
We sent Brendon back to reception for milk and more bandages.
A fire was made and I sat in front whilst Ella cleaned my knee, Orange Cat comforted me and Brendon took pictures of the scene.
I still couldn't really look at my knee.
But I laughed.
"You're such a rockstar, Aimee," Brendon shook his head and snapped another picture.
I laughed again.
"What else is there?"
I mean, this whole situation is already bad enough. Why not laugh? How would complaining make this any better?
"Thanks for taking such good care of me. I mean... if I'm gonna fall off the side of the road and down a mountain, I'm glad I was able to do it with you all here."
Fresh bandaids in place, I mixed chocolate with milk in our newly purchased blue skillet and stuck it in the fire, stirring occasionally with the fabulously yellow and useful spoonforkknife thing Janet had given me before I left Colorado in November.
NOTHING keeps this girl from making her hot chocolate.
I stirred slowly, watching the thick chocolate bar melt into the hot milk and feeling the heat of the fire on my face.
Nothing, I say.
It was a cold, long night. My body must have decided to send all its energy towards healing my leg and none of its energy towards keeping me warm.
I shivered and shook in that mountain cabin and felt the seconds ever so slowly tick-tock by.
Reliving that moment
of helplessness
of suspension
as I waited for morning to meet me.
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