Page 1 of Wish Lists and Road Trips

“You’re going to be late,señor.”

My driver leaned against the hood of his cab, chewing casually on a toothpick as he shouted his warning.

I peered over the edge of the wooden zip line platform, surveying the jungle canopy while gripping a flimsy-looking harness. I wasn’t nervous about the ride. My brother Alex had been making me do shit like this since we were kids—rickety roller coasters, jumping into the lake from an old, fraying rope swing he’d found at our uncle’s camp, the race car driving lessons he’d bought me for my twenty-first birthday. I wasn’t exactly fond of near-death experiences, but I was used to them.

What had my blood pumping in my ears and my neck slick with sweat was the fact that I only had one shot to check “zip line over the rainforest” off of Alex’s list. I still didn’t know how I was going to pull off the most important part.

I’d made it all the way to the top of this tree, though, and I’d paid this local cabbie a hundred U.S. dollars to get me here. I wasn’t about to fail.

“I’m going,” I hollered to Javier. “Just . . . give me a minute.” I stuck my hand in the cargo pocket of my shorts, turning over the little green tin in my fingers. This marked number eight of ten on Alex’s list. Almost done.

My attention bounced from Javier’s impatientget the fuck on with itface—translated across dialects by his wide eyes and his watch held above his head—to the three-hundred-foot drop ahead of me.No kid’s rides, the letter had said. If I had kids, I wouldn’t let them anywhere near this thing.

“Keep it running,” I yelled. Javier only scrunched his face in reply. Our ability to converse was limited to snarky facial expressions.

Luckily, the guy who’d hooked me up to this thing translated my instruction. With an easy segue that my broken ninth-grade Spanish envied, the guide turned back to me and said in perfect English, “Now or never, dude.”

Wasn’t that the truth. This shit was a one-time deal. A promise—something I was going to complete, then consider myself un-indebted.

I checked the fit of my helmet one more time, then stepped to the ledge where the scent of permanently wet soil wafted around my face.Shit.Okay, maybe I was a little nervous. This wasn’t a swing ride over the relatively shallow lake at my uncle’s camp.

My stomach started to tighten.Maybe I can just do it from here.

No. I knew Alex. That was the easy way out. I unzipped my pocket and popped the top of the tin just enough so that I could tip it with one hand while hurtling over the treetops.

Now or never.

“Let’s go.” I nodded to the guide who motioned with his hand to another guy perched carelessly on a tree branch. Tree Guy took a casual glance down the line that didn’t look to me to be all that thorough, then made a chopping motion.

The guide behind me slapped my shoulder. “Buena suerte, chico,” he said. “Don’t forget to get your picture code at the desk before you leave.”

“Thanks.” There’s nothing like an upsell to make you feel a little less like an adventurer.

I ran my fingers through my sweaty, helmet-wrecked hair. I’d somehow managed to look like I was about to birth a toucan in the souvenir picture, so that was great. I clicked on the second digital file I’d received, but that one was just as bad. It really didn’t matter what I looked like in the photographic evidence, but it annoyed me just the same.

I opened my texts, typing with one hand while Javier maneuvered the cab around a donkey pulling a cart full of bananas.

I finished number 8. It’s getting harder.

I attached the picture and hit send.

Seventeen minutes passed before I got a response. Long enough for my mind to wander away from jungles and cabs that smelled vaguely like weed, and land in the world of job permits, unfinished budgets, winter build schedules . . . the way my dad had looked nervous and stressed when I told him I’d be away from the family business for two weeks to do this for Alex. My brain had been so far away from that zip line, that when the text had come in, I’d swiped it open carelessly, not even taking a breath to prepare myself.

Willow: It’s getting harder for me too. You’re amazing, Nick. I love you. XOXO.

The back of my throat tingled and I rubbed at my jaw, staring out the window at the thick green palms and vibrant red and yellow huts whizzing by. This place, Costa Rica, it was like a dream. I could hear Alex in my head, going on about the picturesque scenery, the rich culture. It made sense, him wanting to be here forever, but me, I needed to do this thing and get home.

I typed out a quick “love you too” to Willow and my gut squeezed like a fist, nagging at that little part of my brain that had been conditioned since childhood to think that any little twinge of pain was a death sentence. I could thank my mother for that.

Tossing my phone aside, I unzipped my pocket and pulled out the tin, carefully wrapping it in a bandana and securing it in my backpack between mySpanish for Beginnersbook and three extra pairs of boxers because it was hot as balls in this place.

I did it, I thought.I’d better not miss my boat, asshole.Satisfied, I zipped it up and settled the pack on my lap. Then Javier shouted something I couldn’t understand and slammed on the brakes. My face bounced off of the seat in front of me and the cab banked to the right, the front tires landing in a ditch. “What the—?”

“Señor,” Javier said. “You’re going to be late.”

Three-fifteen.

When I’d heard the reboarding time for today’s port announced over the PA system in my cabin I’d thought:What an absolutely craptastic coincidence.

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