Brian and Trevor ran the five-mile trail together every morning. But on July 5th, the day the Arts Consortium students and guest artists arrived, they ran the circuit twice—that’s how anxious Brian was. Professor Kaya had approved his plans, apparently without reservation. She had left him in charge while she and Alec Olsen, the English Lit professor, drove to the coast. They’d return Tuesday afternoon, in time for Alec to begin teaching the first English Literature class, “Lewis Carroll and Thomas Pynchon.”
The mountain path, bordered by towering trees that separated the early light into beams and halos and pinpoints, had always exhilarated Brian. Running through the forest, he entered an unfettered natural world where, for a brief phase, he belonged.
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Trevor’s presence—no matter what transpired between them, pleasant or not—confirmed the experience, so that no matter how sterile or cluttered the rooms Brian would occupy throughout the day, no matter how tedious his tasks, or confounding his interaction with people—the forest stayed with him.
At the trail head that Saturday, Brian recited his long list of worries, misunderstandings, and disappointments ending in calamity. Trevor knew this list by heart and always dismissed every weird superstition as impossible. But this morning, which Trevor recognized as it—Brian’s promised land—he smacked his brother’s back, laughing, “Nuff, brudda.” Trevor kept laughing until he had to double over at Brian’s hilarious what-ifs.
“You’re challenge’s gonna be the opposite,” Trevor said. “Full success, choke puppy. Prepare large blessings and Irie celebrations.”
“Really. So you’re wishing me luck.”
“No, mon. I see unity and joy going forward.”
At their second time on the trestle bridge, Trevor asked Brian if he could feel the energy coming from every tree branch, every leaf, and vine. The vibrations of the earth and sky and every living thing.
Brian shook his head. “I’m not like you, Trevor. Besides, I have enough to contend with.” How likely was it that Trevor was inventing another vision of raw beauty darting out of sight? Brian no longer cared. He wanted it to be true. If his brother saw promises of joy fleeting in the air, while positive magnetism pulled them along—great. Even if Trevor was lying, these lies referred to Brian’s fate, from here on in. He had worked so hard that for once he was honestly praying that Trevor’s fantastic omens would come true.
The brothers finished the loop, returned to their cabins, showered, and ate lunch with the carpenters. Brian had wanted to suggest that the Jamaicans, who would teach a basic carpentry class, be wary of getting too friendly with the women students. But Trevor told Brian to shut up about that. The idea was insulting. His friends had all met girls they liked at the Avalon, and would meet even more with this Tuesday’s gig.
Brian nodded; he was wrong. Trevor was right. Brian was wrong to worry—no contingencies. Because he had invested his full self in laying the ground for this expansive arts curriculum. With minimal guidance from Kaya, he had accepted fifteen students from a hundred applications.
Brian asked his brother, a sudden after thought, if he and Hailey would help him register the students when they arrived and get everyone settled in the UNC dorms? In fact, Trevor said they were honored. So at two pm, Trevor stood at the entrance, directing the airport buses toward the main arts building on the UNC campus. Hailey took the women to their dorms and Trevor, so quick he often seemed to be in two places at once, easily led the five men to a second-floor dormitory.
Later, Angelina in her van, which she now called her “happy-mobile,” would take everyone to dinner at the Eden Café. After which, Angelina would drive anyone who wasn’t too tired to the lodge for the traditional bonfire.
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