29. Paige
I started working at Upstairs Closet because I love a good find.
Searching the aisles, racks, or bins to find hidden treasure is like a sport to me. Saturday mornings with a coffee in hand, browsing the aisles for the next great deal while fending off the Hildas is like game day.
Out of all my jobs, Upstairs Closet became a home. A family of people I grew to care for while doing work I enjoyed. It was a passion that came with a paycheck.
But walking in there today didn’t feel like it usually did. The pile of blankets on the sorting table looked like they could suffocate me, and every cord in the electronics department was after my wrists and ankles, ready to bind and gag me.
I was trapped.
And I needed to get out.
The Itch told me so.
Maybe it was rash of me—okay, it was—but I marched straight past Delia, the home goods section with wooden spoons and cat-shaped oven mitts, and ignored the new large bean bag made for two that would work perfectly in my living room as I strode to Randy’s office and quit.
He looked surprised. Hell, I’m sure I did. But I stood straighter and acted like a pack of howler monkeys weren’t screaming inside me. He was far less upset than I expected, but I almost burst into tears when he leaned across his desk on his forearms and told me it was an honor working with me. There wasn’t a lengthy speech, but it was enough to feel like what I was doing wasn’t the biggest mistake I’d ever made.
That might have been kissing Rhodes.
Delia wasn’t on the floor when I left, and I didn’t give myself an out by finding her and letting her talk me back into staying. I’ll text her when I’m ready. But there wasn’t any doubt in the back—or front—of my mind I had made the right decision for me. There might be some regrets with a capital “R,” which I’ll have to acknowledge later. But not yet.
After this next errand, it might change.
My next stop was within walking distance from Upstairs Closet. I’ve seen it almost every day on the drive to work but never considered stopping until after I got home last night and buried my face in my pillow and sobbed. After I journaled about the trajectory of my life, subjecting Cleocatra to another one-sided pep talk, and most certainly after my cup of coffee this morning, I knew I would end up here.
At an RV lot, cash in hand.
Rhodes’ kiss was my wake up call. I’d never felt more alive than under the mercy of his fingertips, but I’ve also never felt more afraid. Not because being with Rhodes is inconceivable, but because I felt so much in so little time. He made me want to be the woman on the other end of his affections. But right now, I don’t feel like her. I’m too broken and confused. Rhodes doesn’t deserve that.
Hence the rushed, but also months-in-the-making decision to quit my job and wind up looking at rows of miniature refrigerators and fold out couches. Big ones, small ones, wide and tall. There are so many kinds of campers, and now that I’m here, I don’t know which to choose. I didn’t think this far ahead .
I’m using half of my savings to purchase something here, so I have to pick the right one.
“Hi, can I help you?”
I spin on my heel in this sea of traveling fiberglass and opportunity. “Yes,” I say in a rush before I can stop myself.
This little trek is less about thinking and more about doing. I don’t want to wait until I’m Don’s age to take the adventure and find myself. I’m doing it now.
Taking a deep breath, I hold his eye contact and refuse to chicken out. “I’d like to buy an adventure, please.”
THE HORN ON this thing is loud and in your face.
Almost like it’s saying watch out world, Paige is blazing a new trail .
I doubt that’s what Mom or Dad are thinking when digging up weeds while I pull into the driveway in my new camper van. I overshoot it by a curb and Mom’s beloved rose bush, spending the next few minutes backing up and trying again.
I’m also just now discovering the horrendous beeping noise it makes in reverse. It sounds like a pack of seagulls are getting murdered in my trunk. I can’t keep it there for long and put it back in drive too soon. I do this a few more times to avoid the neighbors thinking I’m capable of mass murder before clicking a button to roll down the driver’s side window.
Mom’s eyes and mouth are wider than I’ve ever seen them. I’m pretty sure I can see the tonsils in the back of her throat from her frozen position on the cement path leading from the front door .
“Hi, Mom.” I salute Dad, but he’s too busy checking out the rims on my new ride to have noticed.
“What—”
“Sick ride!” I hear Constance scream from behind Mom. She’s descending the steps quickly and rushing to see my new purchase up close.
I make sure the emergency brake is on, then slide out of the van, my feet hitting the driveway—and yard—with a thud. “H-hi.”
Mom moves like a ghost to stand beside Dad. Her gaze is everywhere, all at once, before settling her bewilderment on me. “Please tell me this is a friend’s vehicle, or you stole it.”
I fiddle with the keys in my hand. “This is my new car—” I shake my head. “Van.”
Dad hasn’t stopped nodding. “It’s…big.” He kicks at the front tire and the hubcap falls off. “And old?”
“It’s a 2000 Chevrolet Express passenger van,” I explain with an air of pride because it’s all mine.
Definitely not the newest thing on the lot, but it was still within budget. The two front leather seats are cracking and duct-taped in certain spots, and the custom cabinetry in the back needs a good paint job. But the large bed spanning from one side to the other is oddly comfortable, and the back doors both swing open. I’m already daydreaming about the views I’ll see from the comfort of my bed.
“Did someone pay you to take this?” Mom asks, hand holding her chin up .
My laugh is chock-full of nerves. “No. I paid for it.”
Dad’s eyes snap to mine as he rests his hands on his hips. “How much?”
“Her soul,” Constance pipes up, poking her head out of the driver side window.
I shake my head. “It was under ten thousand.” More than half my savings down now and a comfortable payment plan going forward. “Plus, I could probably resell it and make a buck after the trip.”
“And get her dignity back,” Constance adds helpfully.
Mom blinks slowly, looks at Dad, and then looks back at me. “What trip?”
“At least it isn’t a motorcycle,” Dad murmurs.
“Honey, is this some identity crisis?” Mom presses me. “What trip are you talking about?”
“No,” I say, defending myself and this very sudden purchase. “I mean, yes. Kind of? I’m going to travel in it for the summer. I’ve got some savings left and plan to find some affordable places to stop and stay. I know it probably seems sudden, but I need to do this.”
“Need?” Mom’s worry lines are severe.
I purse my lips and nod. “I need to venture out on my own for a bit, see the world, or at least some of it. I need to figure out how to change oil and put air in my tires. To be comfortable in my own company.”
The passion in my chest swells, and I open my mouth to continue my speech, but—
“Is this a rape whistle?” Constance blows the thin metal whistle out the window so loud, we’re all forced to cover our ears. “That answers my question. Do all creepy vans come with this?”
I drop my hands away from my ears and focus on my concerned parents. “I know this seems out of the blue and a bit shocking—”
“A bit?”
“Okay,” I correct, “ a lot shocking.”
Mom gestures to the van. “I just don’t think you’ve fully thought this—”
As if summoned, Rhodes pulls up and parks along the curb in front of the house, staring at the monstrosity in the driveway.
Mom redirects her hand, pointing at him. “Does Rhodes know about this? What about Amber?”
“Not yet—” The slam of Rhodes’ door cuts me off, and the look of horror on his face might as well be sound it’s so loud.
I wasn’t expecting to have to explain my life to everyone today. I figured I’d let my parents in on my plan, Constance by proxy, and then ease Amber and Rhodes into the idea, preferably after I vacuumed the shag carpet and added a disco ball to make it appear cooler.
I’ll be leaving for a couple weeks and knew Amber would have something to say about that. We had plans. Loose plans that involved lake days, river floats, and bonfires, but plans I knew she’d defend until her last breath.
Rhodes looks to my dad. “You got new wheels? Planning on visiting parking lots across the nation?”
“It’s not that bad,” I say, pushing out a hip with an exasperated huff.
Though I’m not above a parking lot.
Rhodes slides his gaze to me, and I swear it feels like his hands are skating down the sides of my ribs again. Ghosts of where he touched me yesterday that I still can’t seem to forget. It would lessen, though, right? I’d leave in a week after I made a few updates to the van and it would help me not feel like I can barely breathe around him now.
Constance slides open the door on the other side and walks to the huddle of people now growing beside my new home on wheels. “Paige is going to travel the world.”
“Not the world,” I correct. “I’m going to go through Montana to Yellowstone, maybe a few other national parks or notable attractions along the way. ”
“Wait…” A look of realization snaps across Rhodes’ features. “This is your van, and you’re going to drive it to Montana?”
It’s a highly simplified version of the plan I have in my head, but I push my glasses up and offer a confident, “Yes.”
“Do you even know how to drive this thing?” he asks as if it's a commercial airplane.
Constance answers for me by pointing at the flattened rose bush. “You tell us.”
We all look at the trampled pink roses Mom had nurtured through a cold winter.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I fiddle with the key again.
She sucks in a breath through her nose and turns back to me. “It’s okay, dear.”
“Can I come?” Constance asks.
“You have summer classes,” I point out.
“I’ll just quit school like you quit your job,” she retorts.
Dad brackets his hips with his hands. “You quit your job?”
I scoff and direct a pointed glare at my sister. “How did you know?”
“Randy.”
“Since when do you talk to Randy?”
She shrugs and picks at her nails. “We’re loose acquaintances.”
Everyone bounces their eyes to me, but I don’t have a chance to respond when Machete Lady walks down the sidewalk to where we’re all standing, knives sheathed at her hips. “Nice van!”
“Thanks,” I respond. “I’m going to be doing some traveling.”
“Like camping?” She rests her hands on either hilt.
“More like glamping.”
She nods with pursed lips .
“I think I need to lay down.” Mom heads for the front door as Dad places a steadying grip under her elbow to guide her inside.
“And you’re going alone?” Machete Lady inquires.
“Oh! No,” I clarify. “Cleocatra is coming with me.”
“Your cat?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She stares blankly, then hooks a thumb toward her house. “I’ll go get you a knife then.”
Her steps are quick, but I call after her. “Something easy to use! Maybe a pocket knife?”
She doesn’t respond, and now Constance, Rhodes, and I are the only ones left.
I give my sister a look with wide eyes and a few head nudges, but she’s annoyingly obvious. “What was that? I don’t speak in twitches,” she says.
“Can you leave for a minute?” I say bluntly.
She rolls her eyes and walks toward the house. “Fine.”
I wait for the front door to slam shut before taking a gander at my best friend who I kissed. Yup, his lips still look just as I remember. But do they feel—
“Did you do this because of me…us?” he asks, sliding his hands into his pockets.
I lean back against the van, needing a bit of support. “No.” But also yes. “I need some time to be on my own. I’ve always relied on everyone else, including you.”
“I like when you rely on me, though.”
I shake my head and stare at my feet. “I need to do this, Rhodes. You don’t have to understand. You can think I’m crazy, but you’re my best friend, and I’d just ask you to at least support my decision. ”
“Best friend.” He says these two words like a statement, there’s a finality to them.
I don’t have the guts to confirm or deny, so I just smile.
He sighs heavily, and the tension between us eases up, but only slightly. I kissed him for crying out loud. I doubt that tension is going away anytime soon. But if I leave…if I go, the tension will ease. I’ll find myself on the road, and maybe I can be the woman Rhodes needs.
“When are you leaving?” he asks in a resigned tone.
“Next week, I think. I’m still working out the details.”
He nods toward the van at my back. “Do you need help?”
“I could use some help with painting. There’s also a few cabinet door hinges that need fixing.”
“Okay.”
If Rhodes was still Rhodes before the kiss , I wouldn’t feel this awkward right now. We’d probably be dreaming up the places I could visit, and he’d make sure I had a stocked fridge—I mean cooler. The fridge is broken. But then again, if Rhodes hadn’t pretended to be Roger, I’m not sure I would have decided to take a trip like this.
I know this is killing him not to talk about this fully, but I don’t think I’m ready.
“Do you want a tour?”
He looks at me for a bit, studying, or maybe memorizing, the look on my face. I try to train my features enough so he doesn’t notice how flustered I am.
“Sure.”
I push off the van, holding the keys in one hand while extending my other toward him. “Friends?”
He stares at me and then my hand. It’s as good as a peace offering, and I just hope he’ll take it .
“Friends,” he repeats, grabbing my hand to shake it. But he doesn’t let go right away, and neither do I. Something holds us in this moment a stretch longer, and I let it. Maybe because this feels like an early goodbye, a death of what we could be.
I immediately want to apologize and re-explain why I’m doing this, but more words won’t make the truth more true, so I keep my lips sealed.
I drop his hand and lead him around to the side of the van, sliding open the door and revealing my next chapter.
She still needs a name, but I’ll think on that.
In fact, it needs a lot of things, but as I peer inside again, taking in the work needing to be done, it doesn’t weigh me down.
For the first time in a while, I feel like the new Paige Turner is around the corner.
I’m ready to get lost in Montana.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Thank you so much for reading!