I flick through the sleeves until I settle on a 90s Alternate Rock compilation and slide it into the CD player. We had discussed updating the dash with a WIFI smart screen, but decided a shower and solar panels were more important. Besides, there’s something about not being connected to everything at all times that speaks to me. It’s not even a nostalgia that I know personally. I‘ve never even held a physical map until the one Tek ordered from Amazon arrived yesterday. And the only reason this CD case is even in the van is because we found it pre-stocked at Harry’s Hut last week.
Once we decided to take this trip, I suggested we totally disconnect, and Tek took the idea and ran with it. It couldn’t be more perfect. Seven days driving down the coast, staying at hidden beaches where nobody knows where we are. Not because we’re trying to hide, but because it’s our turn to run away.
No phone calls unless it’s an emergency.
No texts.
No complaints.
No worries about the shop and what other people are doing…
After spinning in the tray the CD finally registers, and Tek backs out of the driveway.
“Do you think we should detour through Main Street? Do a drive-by of the shop?”
“Hell no,” Tek scoffs. “That pair aren’t my concern.”
“You worried about witnessing a murder?”
“I’m not worried about anything.” Tek sounds confident, but I know him well enough to recognize the slight inflection in his tone. I choose not to mention it, however, because I share his apprehensions. Eden and Reeze alone together in the shop does have the potential to turn volatile.
“Do you think a week is long enough?”
Tek glances at me. “Do you think Liv will let them fight?”
I can’t help but laugh. “I think they’re gonna lose their shit when they show up at work tomorrow and she’s there.”
“That’s why we didn’t tell them.”
This whole trip was actually Liv’s idea. Tek and I have been so entwined in all the chaos that it took someone on the outside to see the logic in allowing Eden and Reeze to sort themselves out. No hand holding. No one with an emotional connection. Just the two of them alone in the closed store for the first day while they set up their stations and iron out any shit still being held onto. Then, for the rest of the week, Liv will monitor and report her findings for us to review when we return.
“They’ll be thankful on Tuesday to have her when they see how busy they are.”
Tek agrees and reaches over to squeeze my thigh.
I rub the back of his hand, and after a few seconds he takes it back to turn the corner onto Beach Road.
With the ocean to our left and the snowy buildings of Broadrock to our right, the engine settles into a steady hum as we head south.
The opening chords of ‘Sabotage’ by The Beastie Boys burst through the speakers and I watch Tek change. It starts with the subtle nodding of his head, then, when the lyrics drop, his fingers drum the beat on the steering wheel. By the time we reach the edge of town he’s mouthing the words perfectly, and as the song reaches its peak it’s like we’re being pulled backward through time.
After another ten minutes the winding coastal road opens up in front of us, and even though I know the sky is just as grey as it was five minutes ago, it doesn’t feel nearly as oppressive as it has all winter.
The ocean has always been the only constant in my life. It was my younger sibling then my surrogate big brother. My counsellor when I had questions, my teacher when I cravedstructure, and my temple when I needed to find purpose. Riding a board was the only thing that ever felt like it came naturally. On the water, or on the street, it never mattered because as long as I had the wind in my face and salt in the air I could convince myself that I was free. Free in the way I always wanted. Free to just exist and be needed as I am. When I’m mediocre. When I’m not the eternally grinning beach rat with a quick wit and an innuendo for every occasion. When I wake up having accomplished nothing the day before. When my smile fades.
I longed for the freedom of knowing that, no matter what I did—good or bad— someone was actually paying attention. And that said attention wouldn’t be gone after the thrill of the chase wore off.
After searching for it in Hawaii and Indonesia, the last thing I ever expected when deciding to come back to Broadrock was to find that freedom in the arms of my brother’s best friend. In Jeon Wootek, the out of my league, sexy as all fuck, brooding, tattoo artist grump that I started crushing on when I was fourteen, and who told me to get the fuck out of his life on the first day I arrived in town.
But the biggest surprise of all, is how much he needs me, too.
That’s the best kind of freedom.
It shits all over the sense of belonging I was hoping Eden could give me.
Having a strong, successful person lay themself out, bones and all. To show you vulnerability. To open their heart and ask for love, and help, and support all while simultaneously showing you every single one of those things in return without youeverneeding to ask first, has got to be the meaning of life…
The iconic strings of ‘Bittersweet Symphony’ by The Verve kick in and I sink lower in my seat like the chord progression is speaking to me directly. Another fifteen seconds in and I’m compelled to lower my window and stick my arm out like a wing.The wind beats against it, so I flatten my hand and point it forward. In line with the water, I roll my hand up and down—the motion rippling through to my elbow—as I mimic the waves like a flying dragon.
