Dad: Drive safe, pet.
Ha! Too late for that advice, Dad. The second is from Miles.
Miles: I miss your eyes. The first time I saw them,I thought they looked like the sky on a sunny day on a tropical island, and now I know they are the sun itself. I miss their warmth upon me.
Tears spring to the corner of my eyes as I read and reread it. Andhe says he’s not the writer. I miss him too. More than I’d like to admit. I miss his hands on me. I miss his laugh. I miss his eyes when they light up with an idea. This will be what our relationship is like if we keep seeing each other after he goes back to America—just a bunch of words on the screen and an ever-present longing.
Headlights are coming down the road, startling me out of my thoughts. I hop out of the Land Rover, throw my bag on my shoulder, and wave, jumping up and down like a mad thing. The car, a white sedan with a prominent dent on the side, mercifully slows to a stop. I’ve seen this car and that dent before.
The window rolls down, and Finn leans over. “What are you doing out here jumping like a nutter?”
Because I am a nutter, I think, but just shake my head, water droplets flying out of my hair.
“Get in.”
I do. What choice do I have?
“Thanks.”
He nods, his blond hair falling over his eye. “What are you doing out here?”
I tell him about the deer and the flat tire. He gets out, braving the downpour, his phone out with the little flashlight on. After a few minutes, he gets back in the car with a shiver. “Yeah, it’s properly fucked.”
I nod.
“You’re lucky I came by. You might have been stuck out here all night. Where are you going?”
Should I just ask him to take me back home? But he was headed the opposite way, and I’m probably only about half an hour from the address Miles sent me when he was trying to convince me to come. Maybe an hour.
I fish out the page I printed out from the holiday park’s website and hand it to Finn. “I’m headed here, but you can take me home if that’s the way you’re headed.”
“Nah, this isn’t too far out of my way.”
Relief washes over me so completely that it feels like dunking my head under in a warm bath. “Thanks.”
He pulls back out on the road, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up.
“Where are you going this fine evening?”
Finn laughs, the booming sound filling the small car, his mom’s car. It reminds me of when we were kids and used to ride around in this heap for hours playing an old Sonic Youth cassette tape and looking for adventure or trouble, whichever we could find. I was in the car when he put that dent in it, trying to park a little too close to a pole. “Fine evening indeed. Can’t say I’ve missed the weather here, that’s for sure. In Brooklyn, when it rains, it’s a whoosh all at once, a couple of minutes, and then it’s over. Sunny skies again. Not like this constant dirge.”
I bristle at this. It’s one thing for me to complain or joke about the weather. I love it here. When Finn does it, it feels like a slight. “Well, we can’t all be Brooklyn.”
Finn smiles like I was joking. “I’m going to an old buddy’s gig at Grog and Gruel. You could come with if you want? He’s putting me up after the show. I actually stayed with him for a couple of weeks when I first arrived. Wasn’t quite ready to face everybody. You, anyway.”
There is an awkward silence. I don’t know what to say to that, and his cheeks are pink as a fresh rose.
He keeps talking. “I’m sure there would be room for you to stay the night, too. It’s Nate Haggarty. Remember him?”
I smile. “Ah, Nate. I haven’t seen him in an age.”
“Want to come?”
I shake my head.
“Who are you off to see, then?”
I falter, “Um…I…”
