Hope I had no idea existed flutters to life and takes off at a gallop. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. Just think about it. That’s all I’m saying.”
I think about it a lot. I let myself daydream about the type of things I could do. I have so many ideas I can hardly sleep at night. Summer feels endless, but in reality, there are only five weeks left until college starts. That realization jolts me out of the bubble I’ve been in with Luke. I’ve promised my mom’s side of the family that I’ll drive up to Portland to see them at some point and it’s suddenly dawning on me that if I don’t actively make the trip, I’m going to run out of time to make it happen.
I mention it to my dad at dinner and Luke takes the bait just like I knew he would.
“Road trip?” he says, right on cue. “Can I come?”
I do my best to look hesitant for a moment, and then quickly add, “Sure. That’d be neat. We can take turns with the driving, it’s safer to break long trips up.”
My dad smiles at me and shakes his head in disbelief. He has reached the pinnacle of pride at what a responsible motorist I am.
Luke’s face shines with excitement for the rest of dinner. He has so many questions about Portland and routes and where we’re going to stop over that I have to whisper, “be cool,” as we pack the dishwasher after the meal. He rolls his eyes at me and does the exact opposite.
We leave mid-week, hoping to miss the weekend traffic. Rachel packs us an almighty cold box of fruit and sandwiches for the road. Despite that, we’ve been in the car for less than three hours when Luke needs reinforcements.
We stop at a gas station, and while he fills up the car I head into the convenience store and buy everything I can find that looks halfway healthy, and a fair bit that doesn’t.
“Jeez, did you buy half the store?” he says when I get in the car.
“Yeah, had to ‘cause my man’shungry,” I drop my voice down and draw the word out. It's not at all like me to act like this. The open road and the fact I’m in a confined space with Luke must be frying my brain, because as if that’s not enough, I add, “hegotsto eat.”
Luke gives me the chuckle I was expecting and then some. It’s his turn at the wheel. He sets off, keeping his eyes road. As he drives, his lips are peeled back into the biggest, dumbest grin I’ve seen on him yet.
“Stop smiling like that,” I say after four or five miles.
“Can’t.”
“Try.”
“Can’t, ‘cause you called me your man.”
“Oh Jesus,” I groan. “Can’t you at least pretend to have a smattering of chill?”
“Tried that. Can’t. I have subzero chill when it comes to you.”
We stop over for the night in a place called Weed. We dropped a pin in it on the map simply because childishly, we both think the name is funny. We stay in the cheapest, most terrible motel either of us have ever set foot in. It’s dark and dingy and the carpet has some stains on it that don’t bear thinking about. We turn the lights out early and set to making a room that’s already borderline unhygienic well and trulyfilthy.
By the time we check out in the morning, I’m absolutely certain we’ve succeeded in our quest.
It’s a long drive, but the scenery is unreal. We drive through miles and miles of national forest. My senses are inundated with the sight of trees and leaves. Streaks of emerald and jade fan out beside us as we drive. It’s so beautiful I start thinking that maybe, just maybe, I have what it takes to move off the grid someday, you know, live off the land, tend to a small herd of goats, or some shit like that.
By the time we drive into Portland I’m feeling vaguely carsick, and the quick surge of excitement I feel when we hit five lanes of traffic reminds me that a move to the country is probably not on the cards for me.
We pull up to my gran’s place to find her waiting on the stoop, arm raised, and face deeply creased into a smile that rapidly gives way to tears of joy. She pulls me into a never-ending hug and then walks me down a hallway that feels like a portal to my childhood. Her house is like a museum. Nothing has changed since my earliest memories of the place. The art on the walls is unchanged and unmoved. The furniture is the same, high gloss mahogany wood side tables, matching coffee table, dining table and chairs. One of the chairs still bears the mark of the time Drix put chewing gum in his back pocket instead of spitting it out like he was told to. It squelched out when he sat down, and neither love nor money were able to get the stain out of the blush velvet seat.
My emotions hurtle towards me and fork into two. On the one hand I’m so happy to be here and find everything the same. It’s a relief that makes me feel grounded and comforted that things in my childhood memories really did happen. On the other, it’s a stark reminder of how much has happened since the last time I was here. Not just how much has happened, how much I’ve changed since then. The space seems smaller. So does my gran. In my memories of her, her presence filled the whole room. Looking at her now, I’m served a painful reminder that the years have a way of making their mark on everyone who stands up to face them.
“You’re in the blue room, Jess. Luke, you’re in the yellow room just down the hall,” she says.
Luke’s shoulders droop and he eyes me sadly. I try to tell him with my eyes that we’ll make a plan, but I don’t know if he gets the message. I get his message, though. I get it loud and clear;we can’t hide forever.
By the time my head hits the pillow I feel content and slightly too full, in a familiar, to-be-expected way. No one’s ever had a meal at my gran’s and not over-eaten. The house is old and the walls are solid. I don’t hear a sound, though I’m sure Luke must be crashing around in his room getting ready for bed. He’s probably wandering around his room in his boxer briefs if he’s not naked.
I suddenly feel acutely aware of how long it’s been since I spent the night alone in my bed. I toss and turn, unable to fall asleep. I’m tempted to go to his room. Obviously I am. I’m only human. It makes me feel pathetic. We’ve just spent thirty six hours together without a break. What’s wrong with me that I can’t handle one night on my own? Nonetheless, I think about it. I could be super quiet. I’d need to be. My gran has ears like a bat. Drix and I weren’t successful once in our numerous attempts to sneak out when we were younger. Not once. By the time we got to the stairs, she’d be standing there in her pink dressing gown, arms crossed tightly across her chest.
After what feels like hours, I hear the slightest creak of a wooden floorboard and a long squeak as my door opens. I sit bolt upright in bed.
