On his last day, he made sure to ask Anders if he wanted to spend the afternoon together. Anders surprised him by suggesting they grab juices, then drive up to Malibu with Thor to hike Sandstone Peak. Clearly, Santiago thought, it didn’t take long for LA to change a person. But he was glad for the distraction of an activity, not only because it meant he would definitely reach his ten thousand steps that day.
He had given up on finding out anything from Anders about Cleo. Anders either knew nothing about what he had done to make Cleo so upset with him or he did not trust Santiago enough to share what had happened between them. Short of an out-and-out confrontation, which appalled Santiago’s gentle nature, he must accept that he was simply not close to Anders anymore. They were growing in different directions. Santiago was looking for love, the kind Anders would not, he imagined, value or understand. At least he could enjoy a nice walk before heading home.
They left the car nearby and walked to where the trails began. It was midday on a weekday, and the carpark was empty save for a few other dusty vehicles. One of them had a novelty plate that read SP1R1TUAL1ST.
“We’ve got a couple of options here,” said Anders. “There’s short and steep or longer but easier.”
“Short and steep,” said Santiago. “I can handle it.”
Anders slapped his back gamely. “That’s my man.”
They set off up the narrow path in single file, Thor bounding ahead. A stark blue sky stretched luxuriously above them, unscarred by clouds. They crossed a short wooden bridge, then began their ascent into the hills. Wild morning glory, honeysuckle, and spiky sagebrush draped over the banks surrounding them. Everywhere Santiago looked, the mottled green was punctuated by clusters of frothy white, sharp-cheddar-yellow, and magenta-pink wildflowers. The dusty path was smooth except for the occasional jutting rocks, one of which Santiago tripped over when trying to get a better look at an orange butterfly teasingly flitting just ahead.
“You doing okay back there?” Anders called behind him with evident amusement.
Santiago grunted in response. He did not want to give Anders the satisfaction of hearing that he was already short of breath. Losing that fifteen pounds had made him lighter on his feet than he had been in years, but he was still a heavy load to carry. Ahead of him, Anders leaped like a mountain goat from one rock to another on toned, agile legs.
They walked for almost an hour in silence through chaparral-covered hills and steep outcrops of rock. Finally, after a relentless uphill stretch that Santiago had to use all his willpower not to stop and lie down during, the path opened up with the suddenness of a curtain sweeping aside, and they were at the top. Layer after layer of sun-dappled hills sprawled beneath them, beyond which the curved shoreline gave way to a bright, flat blue sea. Anders sat down on a smooth patch of rock and wiped his face with his T-shirt. Santiago’s own shirt was soaked through with sweat, and he took a bandana from his pocket to mop his forehead. Thor, whose endless reserves of energy had not been diminished by the climb, went bounding into a thicket of brush.
“You want some water, big guy? Looks like you need it.” Anders proffered his algae bottle toward Santiago with a self-satisfied smile. Santiago took a large gulp and tossed it back to him.
“Hey, man?” he asked. “Could you do me a favor? Could you not call me big guy?”
Anders raised his palms in a gesture of surrender. “I didn’t know it bothered you. Sure.”
Santiago looked at the ground and kicked the dust with his sneaker heel. “It’s no big deal.”
“Are you okay? You’ve been, I don’t know, distant since you got here.”
Santiago was about to say something dismissive about being busy with the restaurant when he stopped himself. What was it Dominique had said? Nothing changes if nothing changes. He was tired of being the affable doormat. He looked up from his feet.
“What happened between you and Cleo?” he asked.
He caught the shock Anders’s face momentarily registered before hardening into defensiveness.
“What makes you think anything happened between me and Cleo?”
“She’s not doing so well, man.”
Anders yanked a dry yellow hunk of brush and waved it dismissively in front of him. “Cleo’s fine. She’s got Frank. That’s all she wants.”
“No, man. She hurt herself real bad.”
“What do you mean?”
Santiago made a cutting motion down his wrist. “It’s serious, Anders.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Who told you she did that?”