He shows me a plant with red, waxy flowers.
“That’s an anthurium. I have one too.”
I turn around to show him.
“Wait, is that… do I see a steering wheel?”
“Yeah. I live in a motorhome.” I walk closer, showing him the captain’s chairs.
“Okay, wow, Jordan. You are like, literally, living my dream! I’ve been wanting a motorhome for years, especially for work.”
“Where are you staying now?”
“In hotels, which is really lame, I know.”
“Not so lame if you get to see all the cities.”
“Have you gone on any trips with the motorhome?”
There it is, that familiar wave of sadness that drowns me, and I look away.
Miles notices immediately and picks up his phone. “Where’d you go? Was it something I said?” Because he sees me. Miles truly sees me.
I’ve never met anyone like him.
But could I do it? Let someone see me, fully? My grief, my depression, my... ugliness?
Would he run away?
Choose, Jordan.
Open the door, or slam it shut?
6
MILES
Jordan’s face darkens when I ask him about traveling, as quickly as flipping a switch
“I was going to travel,” he says eventually. “It was my dream. And I was excited to finally make it happen. Had a remote job lined up and was ready to go. But then, it all fell apart.”
I wait for him to explain. When he doesn’t, I press softly. I can tell this is a delicate place. Push too hard, and I could push him away for good. “Did something happen?” I focus on my hands, trying to lessen the pressure.
He sighs. “About a month before I was going to hit the road, my best friend died in a boating accident.”
Damn. Something like that, it changes you forever. “That’s terrible.”
Jordan looks away again, expression grim. “Yeah. Graham was like a brother to me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It just changed everything, you know? Killed my desire to go on the road and left me emotionally numb. I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t leave. Couldn’t do anything, to be honest. That’s when I bought a six-month lease in this trailer park, thinking I just needed time. But then I never left.”
He tilts his head when he thinks, like he’s remembering something. He gets lost in thought for a while, and I can tell he wants to say more, so I wait patiently, watching him process.
“I eventually changed jobs. Started working for Declan—he’s another close friend.”
“From your chosen family?”
