[Author’s Note: I’m planning to swap out the title of this book to “Stonewater: A Lyndy Martinez Story”. I kept trying to conjure up a more fitting title and finally it struck me in the middle of the night. This is usually how it goes with titles, as they don’t hit until 2/3 way through.]

Valley Girl: A Lyndy Martinez Story, Part-7

Yosemite Valley, CA 1990s

Lyndy Life Observation: Here’s a good example of why I often compare the 1980s to the old, old west. Your children could literally do a beer run for you. Most places in the USA, parents could handwrite a note—like a permission slip—on a piece of paper, sign your name and authorize your grade school kids to purchase beer or cigarettes from a convenience store. And the clerk would look at this note, I suppose judging the validity of the signature, and then sell your child whatever you were asking for.

After her second feeding, a thorough butt cleansing and a fresh diaper change, Maribel was in a less agitated mood. She gazed squarely into Lyndy’s face with alert, watery baby eyes. Seemed as though her little eyes were pleading: “mama, don’t you even want me?” Reaching out with her index and middle fingers squeezed together, Lyndy caressed her daughter’s forehead and wispy strands of hair. It was filling in slowly, same pretty shade of brown as her mother.

Inches away, Kyle was snoring.

Lyndy felt a familiar, suffocating tightness in her chest. In frustration, she pulled back her hand, wrapping her palms to cover her scalp. Her nerves were raw, twisting like barbed wire. Lyndy settled into a chair, letting her legs muscles go limp. After a few moments, she released her grip as her arms fell at her sides. She shut her eyes, gathering willpower and thinking.

By the way, at least someone was getting rest!

She resented Kyle for being able to ignore the baby whenever, however he pleased. She resented Maribel for not allowing her the freedom to do the things she loved. For tying her down. And she felt jealous of her, ever the center of attention, which she knew was completely insane. But she felt it, a sorrow. Maribel wasn’t fun or entertaining like a movie. She hardly laughed, or smiled, or giggled. Seeing another baby—the daughter of Erica—proved it. Her baby was serious by nature. Would she always be this dour?

The TV was on mute, tuned to some flickering home shopping network selling bad exercise equipment.

Lyndy knew she needed to experiment. Sadly, this wasn’t an ideal arrangement. The one piece of furniture in the hotel suite for sitting was a humble shaker style chair, with a spindly back and solid wooden seat. A rocking chair would’ve been comfier. Hell, even a bean bag might suffice. Falling asleep in the chair was a no-go.

Arising, she shuffled to the bed, stacking all the remaining pillows. She wedged the crummiest throw pillow at the bottom of a pile, saving the softest for her head. Next, with both arms outstretched, Lyndy reached for the baby. Cradling her baby, she eased into the bed, her back at a 45-degree angle to the mattress. She wore a real silk nightgown this time, but she’d not done up the front buttons on purpose.  Lyndy wanted her abdomen totally bare. Maribel only had a diaper on.

Exhaling, Lyndy lowered Mari’s squishy body until their chests were pressed firmly against one-another, skin to skin. She could feel the warmth of the baby, like a hot bread loaf, the moistness of her breath, a drop or two of spittle and the plasticky texture of a diaper. Naturally, Maribel’s head turned to one side, so her ear was touching closest to Lyndy’s heart.

Quietly, Lyndy hummed a slower tempo rendition of the tune Just One Look. Back in her cocktail waitress days, that one was a banger.

The baby coughed lightly and Lyndy curved her fingers over Mari’s supple back. Lyndy felt her daughter’s heartbeat and breathing pace slowing. And she continued to hum. Lastly, she cradled her other hand over Mari’s tiny bum.

The vortex of anxiety in her mind began settling. It started with a warm sensation in her chest, like swallowing a shot of the finest reposado. The warmth began to radiate, from its orb-like origin to areas not touching the baby at all. Her extremities began feeling it, and her brain began to focus. Her hands stopped twitching, as she kicked out her heals. She could see things more clearly. It wasn’t the baby she was angry with. Of course not. It wasn’t lazy Kyle either. It was her mom, who obviously experienced this same problem and was too weak to fight it. How could she?

---

Lyndy Life Observations: On oven-like Tucson afternoons, me and Rita would walk across the boulevard to a dime store and buy mint chip ice creams and car magazines. I remember us licking our double-cones, watching a painting crew on 20-foot ladders painting a commercial building. They’re too lazy to come down off the ladder and move it each time they finish a section. So instead, they literally hop the ladder by jumping and jerking their weight up and down, standing on the top rungs. Basically, they dance the ladder along the wall into the new position. Nobody fell.

The phone started ringing at 6:30, when they were both in deep sleep. Even the baby was. It rang four times before her brain waves even registered what it was. Lyndy felt for it, with squinty eyes, her left hand steered by the source of the sound. She put the old school receiver to her ear, while her head was still against the pillows. Suddenly a realization hit: “Oh, Jesus, she’d slept four hours at a 45-degree tilt!” She knew she’d pay for it later.

Even Maribel looked up at her, and her facial expression communicated: “Oh mama, we really slept like this?”

“Ooof. Hello?” Lyndy groaned, her voice weak and raspy. It was Neil Conner, sounding chipper, asking if she wanted to go for a life-changing hike. Lyndy’s right hand was still cupped around Mari’s bottom.

Covering up the receiver on her shoulder, Lyndy turned to Kyle. “Hey, you wanna go hiking?” asked Lyndy.

“Not right now,” muttered Kyle, who’d been facing the other wall.

“So that’s a no?”

Kyle simply yawned.

She uncovered the mouthpiece. “Uh sure,” Lyndy answered. “Give me like … 30 minutes to get ready.” She set the phone back down.

“Who was that?” questioned Kyle, pulling a pillow over his head. “Wait, did you spend all night sitting up? Are you sick?”

“The friends I made, you know.” Lyndy shifted, transporting Mari over to her actual cradle. “I’m good.”

“So, is it a guy?” Kyle scoffed.

“Yes,” she admitted. Maribel started moaning. It was time for a feeding anyway.

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Dammit. Tell him never to call here at 6:30 or me and him will have a problem.”

“Oh, okay tough guy, I’ll let him know,” agreed Lyndy with giggle. She poked Kyle in the ribs making him turn away.

---

45 minutes later …

Frost nipped her fingertips, in the early morning shadows of the cavernous gorge. She had no gloves. In her hurry she was lucky enough she remembered to put on underwear. Her cheeks were red, but Maribel Ellis was snug in a baby Bjorn. High above, beyond the canopy of pines, the south flank of Half Dome towered.

The roar of the Merced filled her ears. The river, enlarged by melting snow, spread into three channels and rushed cold over the stones at Happy Isles. Her heart was pumping and her lungs expanded with the sweetness of pure, fresh air. Her entire body felt energized by the wonder of nature and simplicity of motion. Though there were other hikers, it hardly mattered. She felt as blissful as though the mountains were hers.

Her thoughts drifted to memories of her youth, lost in the rugged continental divide with the Warner’s, or tent camping with Dale. Those places hardly had foot paths, let alone a road. The reminisces were bittersweet, but they used to visit lakes in the wilderness and would be on their own for hours, sometimes days, immersed in the wonder of nature. She felt a sting of loss when she remembered Nash.

Her old boyfriend would’ve loved this place.

When next her gaze shifted upward, sunlight glinted at the cusp of the cliffs. Lupine, buttercup and snow plants dotted trailside, poking up through pine needles. She knew she wouldn’t be chilly for long. In a few minutes, exercise would cure that.

The scents in the air were a combination of woods and an earthy smell of dirt. Maribel was calm. She usually was once being hand carried.

Nearby, the river grew louder, angrier as they climbed higher on the mist trail. The stone steps became steeper, harder to negotiate with a single stride. One didn’t want bad knees here. Though Neil Conner led the way a dozen paces ahead, he stopped often to wait for her. He even offered to take Maribel off Lyndy, making it easier. But she kept turning him down. He continued looking back to check on her every chance he got.

At the first bridge, she opened her Nalgene for a cold drink of water.

As she caught her breath, Lyndy remarked: “I noticed Maribel loves nature. It seems to be the one thing which soothes her colic.” She breathed in a few more times, folding her arms over the side of the bridge and watching the rushing whitewater.

“It’s good for Lyndy too,” Neil added.

Lyndy nodded, with her gaze on the churning river. “Yeah. You’re right.”

A golden light began to bathe the walls of the canyon. They hiked onward, past the intersection with the John Muir Trail, continuing up the stairs of the Mist Trail.

At Emerald Pool the sun was still shining. They paused for brunch next to the Silver Apron, locating a smooth spot to sit—void of pebbles—in the shade of pine boughs. From there they could watch daredevils swim in the frigid water.

Maribel was in a strikingly positive mood. Lyndy giggled as she spooned applesauce into Maribel’s mouth, and Maribel attempted to swallow it. No matter how carefully she tried, most of it ended up running down Mari’s chin onto a bib. “I want my money back,” mused Lyndy. “Two thirds of the applesauce jar is being wiped away,” Her and Neil’s eyes met, as she crossed one ankle over the other.

Without words, Neil asked Lyndy to hold out her palm and he shook some trail mix in for her to eat. Neil watched Maribel. He folded his legs and hugged them. “I don’t know why you think this baby isn’t a sweet kid.”

“You’ve seen nothing. She’s never this good,” Lyndy asserted. “It’s as if we don’t even like each other. Some days we’re just roommates. I know that’s weird.” She glanced up. “I do want to know more about you,” Lyndy said, placing a hand atop Neil’s.

He seemed startled, and she pulled her hand back.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Lots of things. Why you’re wasting time with me. But we can get to that later.”

His expression became serious, and it was easy to tell scenes from a previous life were playing out in his head. “I’m a licensed CPA. I used to have a corporate gig in Oakland. In finance.” A tone of mourning came across as he related his history. “I lived in a house worth two million dollars. Drove a car worth about 50k.” He clenched his hands, as though his heart was pounding and imaginary walls were closing in. “I wasn’t cut out for the life I guess.”

“That’s understandable,” said Lyndy.

“Every two years, they force you to be promoted.” He held out his index finger and let Maribel curl her tiny digits over his. She squeezed. “You know, I used to think, if I just get to the next level, that next rung. When I get there, I’ll be happy. I’ll finally be happy. Like I’ll stay in that position and enjoy the finer things. But as soon as I achieved the next level, nothing changed. Not a god damn thing.” He looked down at the baby’s face. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. She’s heard worse.”

“Within days I was enveloped by the same stress and all I could think about was reaching that next level in the company. Know what I mean?”

“Everyone knows what you mean,” assured Lyndy. “It’s the American way.”

“I could teach a course about it,” said Neil confidently. He stood up.

She wanted to ask about Sierra Spring, but the timing didn’t seem right.

She was embarrassed at what happened next. On the way up she’d been so cautious in choosing her footing, avoiding ice and trying not to tumble. But on the way down she wasn’t watching where she was going, missed a big step and landed hard. Naturally, her body wouldn’t let her drop onto the baby, so she braced herself on her left arm, breaking her fall.

For a second her world froze. She was frightened she’d landed in just the right way to break the bone at the elbow. Mari started wailing, but for good reason, as momma had failed her.

Neil was there in a flash, lifting her up and checking Lyndy’s arm. He had a look of grave concern. Lyndy met his eyes.

“God, are you alright?” He started testing Lyndy’s arm with his fingers, sliding them up and down. She could feel his strong, climber’s hands touching her smooth skin. She didn’t want him to stop, although she was okay.

“It’ll probably end up as just a bruise,” she said at last.