Persuasion

          “Are you kidding me?” Meg said. “We’ve got to walk that narrow ledge? With that sheer drop-off?”

June knew that Meg was afraid of heights. June had been on this hike many times, and had thought that Meg could handle it. That it wouldn’t be too scary. But now Meg had stopped, her eyes huge.

           “It’s not bad at all, trust me,” said June. “Just go right behind me, keep your eyes on my back. Don’t look down.”

           June started along the ledge slowly, not looking back to see if Meg was following. “Keep one hand on the rock wall,” she said over her shoulder to Meg, “like I’m doing.”

           “Holy shit,” said Meg.

           “Did I tell you about the time that George tried to talk me into having a baby with him?”

           “You’re just trying to distract me, to take my mind off this damn ledge.”

           “So,” June said, “we’d been living together for maybe a year. Neither of us wanted to get married; we had talked about it. I was so glad when he said he wasn’t interested in getting married, to anyone, ever. Same as me.”

           “Yeah. I’ve heard this before. But go on.”

           The ledge had ended and the trail climbed steeply now, but it had entered the woods again, so Meg wouldn’t have a problem with this section.

           “We had a dog together,” said June. “Frankie. We were in the park with Frankie one day;  I remember it was a beautiful spring day with so many people out enjoying the weather, so many dogs, and so many kids on the playground. And George was watching this little girl on the jungle gym; he thought she was adorable. He said maybe we could have a kid like that. Like that little girl.”

           June stopped to catch her breath and drink some water, and Meg stopped too. Meg was in much better shape. She didn’t huff and puff up the hills like June did. They started off again, and June went on with her story.

            “I told him I probably didn’t want to have kids. That I hadn’t decided for sure, but probably not. He asked why not, and I told him because of the hassle, and the expense, not to mention bringing another person into this world with the earth falling apart due to global warming, plus this country with the politics headed the way it was, everything was such a nightmare. Then after that day he kept bringing it up. He’d be like, ‘June, you and I would make the most beautiful baby ever.’ Big ego that guy had. Or, ‘June, I want to be with you forever. We should have a family. It would be so great.’ Or ‘Maybe she’ll grow up to be a scientist and she’ll discover how to reverse global warming.’ On and on.

Meg passed her and took the lead because the trail was too narrow to walk side by side in this part. Meg asked her,

“Were you really against it, or were you torn about it?”

“Well, I guess some days I thought ‘no way.’ I was so into my career, and I didn’t want to have to quit my job, and I couldn’t see how we could afford day care.”

“And you told him all that?”

“Oh, of course.”

“And what was his argument, about how to pay for childcare?”

Now the trail was back onto rock. Big flat slabs of rock with random boulders here and there. The trail was marked by blue blazes painted onto the rocks. June always liked looking ahead for the next blaze.

           “He said his job was more flexible so he could do the bulk of the work, and he could stay home a lot, so we wouldn’t need day care. I thought that was unlikely to work out. He also talked a lot about these friends of ours who were in a babysitting co-op. He thought we could join something like that to fill the gaps. But that was just for weekend nights; he didn’t get it.”

           Now they’d arrived at the little crevasse that you had to jump across. It was a little bit scary, and June always took a few running steps before leaping across, just to make sure she’d clear the gap with plenty of room to spare. They stopped at the edge, and Meg stared down into the deep crevasse. June explained her technique of the running jump.

         Meg shook her head, but didn’t say anything.

           “It’s not really scary,” said June. “It’s kind of fun. Just look at the landing spot on the other side when you jump across. I’ll go first.”  She backed up, ran and leaped across, one leg stretching out far in front. She landed easily on the other side. She looked back at Meg and laughed.

           “Piece of cake!”

           Meg shook her head again, and whispered “no.”

           Oh no, thought June. She had assumed that the ledge they had already traversed would be the hardest part for Meg. Hadn’t even thought of this gap as something that would trigger a fear of heights. “It’s not bad, really,” she told Meg.  “You’re much more agile, and strong, than I am. You’ll clear it easily.”

           “I think I’ll go back,” said Meg. And she turned and looked back down the trail.

           “Oh, no. No! Going back the way we came would be much harder than coming up. Remember those steep sections? Much worse going down. I don’t think my knees could take it. This way, we get to the top and then take the fire road down. It’s so easy and gentle.”

           Meg shook her head again.

           “Look,” said June, “you can do this! Easy-peazy.”

           “Why did you bring me here? You know I’m afraid of heights. You said I could do this hike. I can’t!”

           “Yes, you can.”

           “I can’t!”

           “OK, listen.” June took a breath. “Here’s what we’ll do. I’m coming back over to your side, and we’ll sit down and rest awhile.” June backed up again, ran and jumped over.  Then she sat down, some distance back from the crevasse, and said,

           “Let’s sit down. We’ll take some deep breaths.”

           “Like that will solve it.”  But Meg sat down next to her.

           “I’m sorry,” June said. “Really. I didn’t think this would be a hard spot for you. I thought that ledge back there would be the hardest. And you did great on that!”

           “I almost shit my pants.”

           June took a big breath, then let it out audibly. “Our brains are so weird,” she said. “Like they tell us one thing, even though we might really feel something different, deep down at a feelings level. Like with the whole argument about having a baby, I kept saying we couldn’t afford it. And I told George that he had no idea how much work it was. How you don’t get any sleep, and you get sick all the time. I had friends at work with babies, so I knew all about the reality of it. He didn’t.”

           “So, are you saying that deep down you really wanted a baby even though you were telling him you didn’t?”

           “Yeah. That’s what I realized later. Once I was pregnant, I was happy. I was actually glad I was going to have a baby. Maybe it was the hormones, or the whole biological imperative thing, whatever. But I was glad that he talked me into it. I was glad I was going to be a mom.”

           “But then the scumbag left you!”

           “Yeah. He did.”

“And you had to do everything by yourself!”

           “Yeah. It was rough. But I never regretted having that baby for one second. It was the best thing I ever did in my life. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

           Now June was choked up, but she looked Meg in the eyes, even though she knew Meg could see her tears.

           “Oh, fuck,” said Meg, as she stood up. She took two steps back and ran towards the crevasse. She sailed over it, and landed safely. She turned back to face June across the gap, and yelled,

           “I hate you, Mom.”  

           “I love you, too,” said June.