FICTION

POSTCARDS IN YOSEMITE

BY SCOTT KNOLL

Published in hais: a literary journal.

Even with bright emerald green eyes, she was never referred to as attractive, especially when: wearing the clothes that best fit her style, dying her hair offset colors, or walking on the rails of the train tracks to imitate a game that she and her friend used to play.

Early fall in the uphills mountainside of the Lewis Creek Trailhead within the Yosemite National Park was the first time she ever left home in the shotgun seat of her best friend's Toyota Prius. It was a wonder how her parents weren't alerted awake from the lyrics of Brand New’s “Sic Transit Gloria” blaring from the rolled down tinted windows. Her friend, Emilia, needed a break from the Central Valley’s paraphernalia, the lingering reminder of her ex that left her after three years. She never found out why and it seemed like it was too soon for her to ask. She was surprised anyway just to hear back from her after a couple of weeks of: no showing to band practice, left on “read” messages on their shared social media, or one-sided phone calls that lasted no longer than the answering tone, but an impulsive text finally clarified which state of grief that Emilia was in. The first thing she noticed was that Emilia’s style had reverted back to before she had dated him like this was how she was meant to be. She never really approved of him, anytime he came over she would whisper “fuck” under her breath just loud enough for him to hear. Emilia’s singing voice still had cracks when a song mentioned anything about love and she would ask how things were going without being ready for a follow up, so they sat there silently as each song continued to shuffle.

"Thank you for coming, Cass," Emilia whispered.

Cass nodded and felt a glowing inside of her stomach underneath the deep purple Ninja Turtle shirt that matched her current hair color, and held that feeling after the car stopped in the visitor parking lot that was already almost filled for an early afternoon. It was the last place that had hung out before Emilia started her relationship with who they would both refer to as the discount Jonah Hill.

Cassandra’s parents were middle aged Asian-Americans from a city bordering the Mekong flowing with traditional elderly thinking. Since her grandparents had roots planted in the refugee camps, both of her parents wished to remain close to the paved lines of how people should live in the Central Valley. Oddly enough, the camp where they were placed was now a Barnes and Noble connected to a movie theater complex. Her parents had already questioned their daughter's taste in style and music, only making an exception if it allowed her to have friends and move towards their mapping of her professional life in either doctoral or educational work. Although she may disagree with their philosophies, Cassandra couldn't help but think of what they might’ve said if they saw her throw away her Davis acceptance letter in favor of pursuing a musician’s life or if they saw her currently staring down at the rolled marijuana cigarette resting in her hand that Emilia stole from her father’s stash. Cass’ thoughts drifted, wondering which one they would be more disappointed in before taking the hit. 3-2-1, she counted down the seconds in her head and exhaled against the welcoming sign.

“Like your head’s in a fucking mosh pit, right? If only we brought our gear we could have thrashed this place,” Emilia fantasized, her glowing skin color looked like it was coming back, “Alright kid, let’s see that waterfall!”

Each of the girls took gliding first steps past the sign marking the beginning of a two hour hike. Prancing like fairies at the base of the 4,000 foot elevation didn’t affect their current state of meditation. It was roughly forty-five minutes into the hike when they both stared at the waterfalls from afar and it looked like Emilia was never even bothered before, at least while she was grinning next to Cass talking about: the band, meeting in grade school when Cassandra still listened to the Now CD’s, and about the future which Emilia admitted to not submitting her college application before the deadline. Emilia also mentioned how her ex left, but it wasn’t something that was entirely important to either of them anymore. 

“Honestly…I loved it when you would whisper fuck whenever he came around,” Emilia laughed.

Before they could reach the primitive, man made wooden stairwell leading feet away towards the swimming area of the waterfall, the mosh pit in Cass’ head quickly escalated into a full on orchestra, causing her to lose balance and slip from the middle of the railway down the dirt covered hill before Emilia noticed to do anything about it. Emilia panicked sober at her friend's disappearance and shouted at the echoing valley beneath her, unable to see her friend through the vast overgrowth of shrubbery.

It wasn’t until a few moments later when Cass had realized what had happened. The high still lingered breaking her fall, but the orchestra soothed to just a few of the players remaining. In the unwanted ghastly plunge, she managed to find the softest parts of mother nature to be cradled in and readied herself to leave the nest. Cass quickly got over the scrapes on her shoulders and knees, and the tears on her favorite non-band related t-shirt. She wagered that the best option was to continue to meet Emilia near the waterfall. She didn’t want to think about how this was the third time that her parents would have been both disappointed and worried about her today. The closest she’s ever been to this thickness of the forest by herself was when she was in the Girl Scouts, a proud moment in her parents life for cultural assimilation that was more than what they thought they could achieve themselves. Cass tried desperately to remember all the Discovery shows her parents binge watched every week, but the only comfort to her was a lyric that she and Emilia had written for their first song Postcards Home.

We’ll blow heart shape smoke rings in place of postcards

From San Diego-to-Fresno, we’ll somehow find a way back home.

Cass repeated the lyric, as if it were a religious mantra guiding her to a soothed clearing, where an oriole's blue and yellow feather delicately dropped onto the nearby stream and poured into the waterfall. It circled around Cass a couple times before landing, who in her time as a Daisy scout had never seen anything like it. For the first time that evening, she cautiously walked closer to the edge of the waterfall, until her left sandal was overtaken from the current. Her barren left foot felt the algae-filled surface beneath the pouring creek. When she looked below to try to find it, she saw a figure with those beautiful green eyes that looked like it was walking on water.

Frantic footsteps wrestled, interrupting the moment, through the gushing water towards Cassandra. 

"Cass!" They shouted, as Emilia tackled her to the meadow floor, her arms wrapped around her, her tear-filled eyes seen bubbling and relieving, a warmth piercing through freezing waters.