The Truth About That Summer

ninety-three

Several Months Later

Fresh, spring air sweeps through the open door, tousling my hair into my eyes as I perch on the van steps, overlooking the beach. The van is parked over the dunes, the sand mostly empty besides another camper a bit farther down. The smell of barbecue drifts over from that direction, rumbling my empty belly.

Above the waves, calmly drifting slowly back out to sea, the sun is setting, lighting the sky in bright orange and red hues. There's not a cloud in sight.

It's not too hot but not at all chilly, the setting sun still warming the skin of my arms and legs. Stretching my limbs out in front of me, a contented sigh escapes my lips.

Today was a good day. Not all of them are. But lately, the good outweigh the bad and that's enough for me.

I inhale deeply, feeling the air expand my lungs. Feeling the life filling me up. Feeling the steady drum of my heartbeat alongside it, a thumping reminder of everything that I have left to do.

After I ran into Luke at the center, I got to work on my plan to honor Casey. I didn't know where I wanted to be, but I knew I couldn't stay in that town.

Following in my brother's spirit, I decided I would go everywhere.

So I bought a map from Henson's General Store, one of the entire United States, and with a laptop beside me, a black sharpie in hand, I charted out my path. And then re-charted it again and again until it was perfect.

I brought the plan to Luke and at first, he was hesitant. His only interest was in helping me do the manual labor I needed to get done in order to bring the plan to life. He helped me fix up the van he'd kept in his driveway all this time, saying he wouldn't really need it anyway. A fact that made my heart ache. Gradually, Luke's hard work and skilled hands transformed the vehicle from a work-van to a space I could live in full-time.

It's cozy, equipped with a bed and a small, functional kitchen, even a tiny, shower-bathroom area so there's no need for lots of stops to pee. It can get claustrophobic, but all it takes is opening the back doors or the big side windows, and the fresh air that wafts in brings a sense of calm over me.

It's like letting the world in, and after so long of shutting it out, the change feels nice.

Luke worked tirelessly, gutting the inside and redoing it all. Putting in flooring and storage compartments, a little heat stove for the colder states. Adding the cute touches that didn't improve functionality but made it more homey so that I'd be comfortable. He didn't make me pay, but anything I asked for, he made work.

And I was grateful. Grateful, but still, disappointed.

The van was perfect. The only other thing I wanted was him. To join me on this trip, to join me in life moving forward.

But after his initial uncertainty, I didn't want to push. He didn't deserve it and if I'm honest, it hurt too much to see him wary of me. It would hurt too much to be turned down again, even if I would be a fool to expect anything less.

Until one night, about a week before I was set to drive across the country - alone, to my parents and Grams' great dismay - that yet another idea occurred to me. Sitting up straight in bed, I grabbed a notebook and a pen, and I furiously wrote it all down.