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The Other Side of Blue(44)

By:Valerie O. Patterson






Dr. Bindas pulls off the road to Christoffel National Park, stopping at a restaurant tucked in a grove of divi-divi trees bent seaward. The boys run ahead and stake out two tables on the porch. They jockey for position, fighting over who will have the outer seats.

“Boys,” Dr. Bindas calls after them as he walks ahead of Mrs. Bindas, Kammi, and me. Either they don’t hear him or they’re ignoring him. Kammi and I follow Mrs. Bindas, who doesn’t seem to notice the boys, or the frown from the café owner, who pops outside at the noise.

“Girls, please to sit here?” Mrs. Bindas smiles as a waiter comes over and wipes off a table and chairs with a towel.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kammi says, though I notice her look over to see where Saco is sitting.

I join her, though I want to get closer to the table where the boys are, too; closer to Mayur and his promise of information, whatever it is. He has his back to us, and I wonder if he did that on purpose, sat facing away. He knows I’m curious, that I can’t help myself. He isn’t going to make it easy. Typical Mayur.

The waiter comes with extra help and they quickly feed us a hearty meal of eggs and confetti rice. Mrs. Bindas’s driver comes to pick her up, and then the boys, Kammi, and I pile back into the SUV. Dr. Bindas puts it into drive, and we head toward the mountain in the distance.





Inside the park, Dr. Bindas drives past the first trailhead parking lot.

“The longer hike,” he says.

“Yes, not the girls’ hike,” Mayur says, and the other boys laugh.

“Boys,” Dr. Bindas says, drawing the word out. “The hike we’re going on is even more scenic. We go right to the top.”

Saco taps Kammi’s pack. “What’s in here?”

“My art supplies,” she says quietly.

“What for?” Mayur asks. This is his hike. He wants everyone’s undivided attention.

“I want to paint something for my dad,” she says.

My chest twinges when she says that, it’s so unexpected. I thought she’d say she’s practicing for Mother. Somehow, that would be less painful than the answer she gives to Saco.

“And you?” Loco asks.

“No, I’m here to hike.” And to talk to Mayur. I don’t bother to explain that I don’t paint. I stare at the scenery.

“But your mother expects you to paint?”

“No, she doesn’t.” She prefers that I not. She wants to keep the art for herself, to tell me what art is and isn’t.

“Do you know how tall Mount Christoffel is?” Dr. Bindas asks, his eyes reflected in the rearview mirror.

The boys guess among themselves.

“More than three hundred meters,” Roberto finally says.

Dr. Bindas laughs. “But how much more?”

“Three hundred and seventy-four,” Kammi pipes up.

“Excellent!” Dr. Bindas smiles into the rearview mirror.

I grin. The information must have been on the cruise-ship tourist map.

“Three hundred is close enough,” Mayur mumbles.

“You would not say that if it were your allowance you were rounding down,” Dr. Bindas chuckles.

“That’s right.” Saco laughs and punches his cousin in the shoulder.

The road begins to wind through greener underbrush and vines. Cacti grow in clumps. Mango trees, their leaves a dark green, stand out, taller than the surrounding brush.

At the next trailhead, Dr. Bindas parks the SUV.

“Before we go,” he says, “two rules: Stay on the marked path. At the top, wait for everyone else. I have the lunch basket.” Then he grins, and the boys pour out. Kammi slides out on my side and shoulders her backpack. The edge of the watercolor board sticks out the top, the cord stretching over it.

Dr. Bindas hands us each a copy of the trail map. “In case you get separated. But that is not to happen. Right, boys?” Dr. Bindas looks only at the boys when he says this.

On the map, a star marks the peak of Mount Christoffel. The trail rises along the backside of the hill.

“From the top, you can see the ocean,” Dr. Bindas reminds us.

Roberto and Loco jog toward the trail, their packs flopping against their backs. Mayur stalks off after them. Scraping his boot in the dirt, Saco waits at the trailhead. For Kammi? Dr. Bindas leans against the SUV to retie his shoelaces in double knots, something Dad used to do before hikes.

“Come on,” I say to Kammi. I want to catch up to Mayur.

She nods and follows me. Saco falls in next to her. Dr. Bindas stays a few steps behind us. Then his cell phone rings, and he stops to answer it.

My sports sandals don’t keep my feet from getting dusty, but they give me good traction on the dirt and stones. I start up the trail, leaning into the ascent. If I hurry, I can catch up to Mayur. But once I do, how can I get him to tell me what he knows, or what his cousin is supposed to know? I don’t trust him. He’d say anything just to make me think he’s important. His father may be a respected doctor here, and his cousins may have to be polite to him because of it, but I don’t.