I think it’s about time to ruffle some feathers.
“Hey, Waylon! Do you think there’s enough space for picking up a Facebook Marketplace find? Because there’s this rad foosball table?—”
“Reed,” my dad grunts, and turns to the impatient auto salesman. “We’ll take it.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling out of the parking lot in an overpriced hunk of metal.
We fight rush hour traffic that rivals Utah on its worst day just to get back to where we started—the airport.
“What are you going to do with that six-hour layover?” I ask. It sounds ridiculous even saying it out loud.
“Take some phone calls.”
I could have guessed that.
Why did he fly all this way? Does he think I’m just chasing the next best thing? I won’t be the guy to dress up in a fancy business suit, sit at a mahogany desk, and answer a phone all day. I’m not like him.
I twist my torso and snag his duffle bag from the back seat, then I drop it in his lap. “I’ll see you in a couple months, Dad.”
He sighs and climbs out of the truck. “Let me know when you make it. Happy twenty-first birthday, son.”
My eyes flick to the display screen on thedash. August 21, it reads.
A truck for my golden birthday, go figure.
I reach over and pull the door shut myself. The tires crunch as I navigate out of the departure zone. I refuse to look back when all I’ll see is a disappointed frown melting away in my rearview mirror.
To be honest, I don’t mind the stretch of red lights across the city now that I’m alone. But the drive becomes ten times better when State Highway 55 reaches Horseshoe Bend. With my right wrist cradling the steering wheel, I take in the valley of dense pine trees like a staircase to the sky.
I fumble with the dashboard buttons until the radio turns on.
“Meteorologist Mike Stanza informed us this morning that temperatures in the Treasure Valley will be heating up this week. Residents will face triple digits by Tuesday with a high of a hundred and five holding strong the next couple of weeks. Get ready, Idaho. It’s going to be a hot one.”
Yeah, get ready for some fire, I think to myself as a ball of sagebrush tumbles across the highway. I jerk the wheel just enough to dodge the spiny plant as it sails past the lack of guardrail, over a strip of yellowed wheatgrass, and down a rocky ravine where the south fork of the Payette River rushes through. I correct the wheel just as a bus with a ten-man raft pulls off near an access point called Hells Canyon.
Always chasing the next best thing, yeah right.
Memories of Bear Lake threaten to invade—of long summer days boating, fishing with Miles and my brothers, chasing the sun—so I jack the radio even louder, as though my thoughts have a voice I can drown out with the sound.
I roll down the window as endless road stretches in front of me like a welcome mat.
It’s here, under the desert sun, that I start over.
CHAPTER NINE
REED
McCall Ranger Station, Payette National Forest, reads the wooden sign.
I made it.
A few miles off the main road at the edge of town sits a big building with yellowed siding and a green roof. I follow a grove of pine trees twisting around the property until I can park my truck next to the five other brown vehicles withForest Servicelogos stamped on the sides.
My new home.
I pull my phone from the center console, taking note of the single white line in the top corner. It’s more cell service than I expected for a remote mountain town, but I doubt that’ll be the case when I venture into the brush. Sounds nice.
I open the text thread with my parents’ names on it and type,Made it. See you in eight weeks. I hit send and power off my phone, stuffing it in my duffel. I don’t bother locking up.
