It's worth walking four blocks for a fancy, overpriced cup of coffee just to get out of the office for a few minutes. Even the cold December wind blowing up Light Street off the harbor didn't deter me. I'd spent all morning and lunch at my desk staring at spreadsheets, trying to figure out how to cut two hundred forty-eight thousand, six hundred sixty-two dollars and thirty-eight cents out of the project budget.
The fact that I had the exact amount memorized told me just how badly I needed a caffeine break.
Trudging back to work, steaming cup in hand, I wondered if I ought to buy Christmas presents for my ex-wife's niece and nephew. It was the first Christmas after our divorce, so I wasn't really sure of the protocol. If I got them something, Aimee might say it was inappropriate. But if I didn't, she might say it was heartless. I was never certain which way she was going to come down on this sort of thing.
That's part of the reason we're not together anymore.
As I rode the elevator back up to the office, I decided I had to bite the bullet and just ask Aimee what she wanted me to do about Christmas presents. The choice between texting her and opening my spreadsheets back up made the decision a little more palatable. But only a little.
I had deleted two attempts at a message and was tapping out a third when my phone unexpectedly rang in my hand.
"Unknown Caller" popped up on the screen.
Normally, I'd dismiss it and let it go to voicemail, but this time I figured a few minutes with a robo-call would forestall two unpleasant tasks. I tapped "accept" and answered it.
"Hello?" I said, expecting the usual automated moment of delay but was surprised to hear an immediate response.
"Hi, um... Beer Haver?" the feminine voice asked cautiously.
'Beer Haver' is my trail name—a nickname I got saddled with back in college when I lugged a case of cheap beer along on my first wilderness backpacking trip. It's a name I associate with trees and fresh air and crisp nights around a campfire. Hearing it used now—as I sat in my fluorescent-lit, climate-controlled office on the eighth floor, looking out the window at downtown Baltimore—was kind of jarring. But I knew at once who the caller had to be.
"Springer Mountain Bride, is that you?" I asked, a broad smile spreading across my face.
"It's me," she replied brightly. "Guess where I am."
It had been late summer when our paths had crossed up on the Appalachian Trail. The ink was barely dry on my divorce papers and my buddy Will had taken me up to the mountains to decompress. She'd come down from Maine, through-hiking the whole damn Trail, heading south to Georgia.
"Well, it's been about three months, so I'm gonna say... Atlanta?" I replied.
"Close. I just finished. I'm standing on top of Springer Mountain." There was a definite note of triumph in her voice.
It was our second night out on the trail and Will and I had just started making dinner with some other hikers we'd met when Springer showed up at our campsite, looking for all the world like a steel trap ready to snap your hand off.
It took some prodding, but she eventually warmed up and joined the rest of us for dinner. Apparently, she and her fiancé—what was his name again?—had had a fight over something a couple of days earlier and it had gotten out of hand. He abandoned her in the middle of the night. Asshole.
She and whatshisname were supposed to get married at the end of the trip. That's how she'd picked up the trail name 'Springer Mountain Bride'. Kind of romantic, I guess. Rather than let him have the satisfaction of derailing her adventure, Springer had decided to press on without him, even though he'd taken half their gear.
Springer and I were just two people who needed someone at that moment and we found each other. It had been a rebound thing for both of us. I'd given her my phone number and asked her to keep in touch, but honestly, I never expected to hear from her again.
"Well congratulations! You made it the whole way. I'm really happy for you."
"Thanks... You wanted to know when I finished, so..." she continued, somewhat awkwardly.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm glad you called. That's got to be a really amazing feeling, doing something like that all by yourself."
"Yeah, I think I'm freaking out just a little. It's hard to believe it's actually over."
"I can imagine. How long did it take you?"
"Uh, six months, four days, and... if it's one-thirty now, call it six and half hours."
"Wow! I wish I had that kind of vacation time."
"Well, quit your job. Your schedule opens right up," she quipped.
"I will definitely keep that in mind. So... what's your next adventure?"
"I um, really don't... Well, I guess first I have to get down off this mountain," she laughed, "then fly back home and... find a job I guess."
"Aw, that's gonna be a rough transition."
"Yeah, um... Listen... there was one other thing I wanted to tell you, and I'm not really sure how to say it, so just... " she took a deep a breath. "...I'm pregnant, and it's yours, and I'm keeping it, and I know that's totally my fault because you wanted to be safe and I pushed you, and that's all on me, so if you want to hang up the phone and pretend like I never called and forget all about me, I get that and I'm ok with it. I won't call back and you'll--"
I was not prepared for that. But the news that I was going to be a father barely registered. All of the triumph and pride had gone out of her voice. All I could hear now was fear and anxiety.
"Springer--"
"--you'll never hear from me again. But if you want to be involved somehow, I'm ok with that too. I'm open to whatever kind of arrangements you want to work out, or, or no arrangements if that's what you want, because like I said, I know this isn't your fault and--"
I could practically see her, all alone on top of that windswept mountain. She was one of the most fiercely independent and self-reliant women I had ever met, but as she tried to let me off the hook, she just sounded so small and fragile.
"Springer--"
"--and I'm sure this is totally a shock and you probably need time to think and it wasn't fair to just drop it on you like this, so if you need to take some time and think, I get it, and I'm not going to rush you or try to guilt you into anything. You have my phone number now, so if you--"
She was supposed to be getting married today. She and whatshisname should have been together on top of that mountain surrounded by family and friends. But instead she was alone. Instead of a wedding she had, what? A one-night stand and a burden for life?
No, I couldn't let her bear that by herself.
"
Springer!
"
"...Y-yeah?" she finally let me break in.
"I can be in Atlanta in five hours. I'm already out the door, but I have to use my phone to book a flight. I'll text you as soon as I land, ok?"
"...Oh! Um, ok." There was a catch in her voice as she said it, and the call ended abruptly.
By the time my Uber dropped me at the airport, I had a QR code on my Delta Airlines app and a rental car waiting in Atlanta. My flight didn't leave for another hour so as I sat at the gate with a spreadsheet open on my laptop, I chopped a quarter of a million dollars out of the budget with a machete and emailed it out. It's amazing how a change in your priorities can simplify things.
Buckling into my middle seat, I ignored the safety briefing, and had a moment to breathe at last. I finally realized just what the fuck I had gotten myself into.
Kids are crazy expensive.
I quickly pulled down my latest financial statements before the plane took off, then waited impatiently for the plane to reach altitude. Much to the annoyance of my row-mates, I set up my laptop on the tray table and spent the better part of the two-hour flight crunching numbers.
