5.
Crystal
I grip the zipper, a final tug sealing away the last remnants of my life here as my suitcase zips closed. The last two days have been a whirl of packing up my life and helping Justin do the same. I look over the barren walls of my room, once plastered with posters and Polaroids. I’m ready—or at least I tell myself I am.
“Crystal,” Jackie’s voice cuts through the silence. “You’re really going to do this? Throw it all away for some guy?” Her accusation hangs heavy between us.
I can’t meet her eyes. Not when they reflect a truth I’m not ready to face. “Jackie, it’s not just about him,” I lie smoothly, more for myself than for her. The words come out rehearsed; I’ve been convincing myself of them for weeks. “I hate it here. School’s been wrong for me…for so long.” I avoid mentioning the notice from the school that I’m no longer welcome.
She scoffs, arms crossed, her disappointment a living thing in the room with us. “So, you’re just going to run off to California? Do you even know this guy?”
“Enough to know I need this change,” I counter, steadying my voice. It includes a quiet plea for her to understand. This is my escape hatch, and I’m jumping through it with or without Justin.
“Fine.” Her voice cracks, and she turns on her heel, storming out of the room. I hear the front door slam, leaving me alone in what’s left of our apartment.
I don’t have much time to dwell. The rumble of the Goodwill truck vibrates through the windowpane, and I shuffle downstairs, dragging my suitcase behind me. The driver and I exchange a few curt nods as he starts clearing out my bedroom furniture. Piece by piece, my life here is carted off, stripped bare until nothing remains.
Then, as if on cue, Jackie reappears. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her anger dissolved into something softer, sadder. I drop my facade, and suddenly, we’re just two friends standing amidst the echo of goodbye.
“Jackie…” I start, but words fail me.
“Shut up, Crystal,” she says, but there’s no heat in it, only the quivering of unshed tears. We fall into each other, our hug a tangle of limbs and heartache. We cry because it’s ending, because it’s beginning, and because neither of us knows what comes next.
“I can’t believe with only one year left of school, you’d just drop out. And for a guy no less! Take care of yourself, okay?” she murmurs into my shoulder, her voice muffled.
“I will,” I promise, squeezing her tighter. And I mean it. Whatever lies ahead in California, with or without Justin, I’ll find my way.
I cross campus with my bag trailing behind me, heading for Justin’s house. I haven’t brought much, just enough to start anew in a different city, putting this rundown town and university behind me for good. A few minutes later, my suitcase thuds against the steps leading up to Justin’s place, and my heart pounds. I pause at the door, taking a steadying breath before I raise my hand and knock.
“Hey, Crystal!” Rhys pulls open the door. His smile falters when he sees my suitcase. “You’re here.”
“Surprise?” My attempt at lightness falls flat as Justin and his other roommates emerge from the depths of the house. Justin ushers me in and rolls my suitcase to the corner.
“Whoa, she’s coming with us?” Theo asks, eyebrows shooting to his hairline. Austin and Rhys exchange a look I can’t quite decipher.
“Justin, man, you didn’t say anything about this.” Austin’s tone isn’t angry, but it’s far from welcoming.
“Can we talk? Outside?” Justin gestures to the others, and they step onto the porch. The door closes behind them, leaving me to my thoughts. Is this a mistake? Why didn’t he tell them?
They’re going to tell me no. I’m going to be stranded here with nowhere to go. My hands twist together, knuckles whitening as I wait for them to return.
After what seems like an eternity, the door swings open again, and the guys are all smiling—relieved smiles, amused smiles, but smiles nonetheless.
“All right, you’re in.” Rhys chuckles. “But you owe us a turn behind the wheel.”
“Thanks, guys,” I manage, relief flooding through me like sunshine after a storm. “Not a problem.”
“Let’s get this show on the road!” Theo claps his hands, and we dive into the turmoil of moving. One by one, we schlep things out to the van—boxes stacked precariously, duffel bags wedged into every available nook. The small moving van groans under the weight of our collective lives, but eventually, everything finds its place. We stand back, a ragtag crew. This is either going to be great, or it’s a giant mistake. San Francisco, here we come.
“Finally,” Justin says, wiping his brow. He tosses me the keys to the moving van. “You ready to take the first shift?”
“Born ready,” I lie. But I take the keys and climb into the driver’s seat, Justin hopping in beside me.
The moving van leads the two other cars in our caravan, and we’re connected by shortwave walkie-talkie radios. I can do this is my mantra on repeat as we navigate downtown. The Atlanta streets are writhing with traffic, but as we merge onto the interstate, the city gives way to open road, and I exhale. It’s real. I’m doing this. I’m moving to California with my boyfriend.
Well, we haven’t actually said what we are, but we’re moving across the country together so…
“We need some tunes,” Justin notes. He connects his phone to Spotify and the truck speakers, then tunes in some sort of indie rock with a beat that demands movement. He grins and starts a clumsy dance in his seat, his motion exaggerated by the rocking of the van.
I laugh, letting the rhythm take me, my hips swaying as much as the drive allows. “Look at us go,” I say, eyes on the road but spirit soaring.
“Best road trip ever,” Justin declares, and I want to believe him.
I grip the steering wheel tighter. This is the start of my great new adventure.
We work our way west, the traffic thinning, and our speed as fast as the van will allow. In a few hours, we’re deep in Alabama. The sun is high, and I’ve needed to use the bathroom for the last hundred miles.
The radio that connects our ragtag caravan squawks. “Breaker one-nine, this is Bumblebee. We’re in need of comfort station.”
My brow furrows as I look at Justin.
“He needs to go to the bathroom.” Justin picks up the radio laughing. “This is a closed radio, you dork.”
“Just adding levity,” Rhys says. “I’m dying here, listening to nonstop Kiss and Metallica. Help me!”
“There’s a stop up here, and we can get food and gas,” Justin says.
“Roger, one-nine,” Rhys replies.
I nod. “Good. I also need to go, and the van is getting below the three-quarter mark in gas.”
A few minutes later, we pull into a gas station, and Justin jumps out to fill the tank. I rub at the knots in my neck, trying to coax them into relaxation. At the fast food restaurant adjoining the gas station, Austin orders enough burgers and fries to sustain an army—or at least a couple carloads of hungry twenty-somethings.
“Hey,” Justin says when he returns from the convenience store. There’s a mischievous glint in his eye that I can’t resist. He hands me a small, wrapped item, his fingers brushing mine. “For you.”
I unwrap it to find a refrigerator magnet—a cartoonish depiction of Alabama’s landmarks. “It’s the first of many firsts for us,” he says, his voice warm with promise.
I lean in, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that tastes like adventure. From the next car, Theo lets out an exaggerated groan, but I barely hear it.
“Come on, lovebirds, let’s eat and hit the road again!” Theo calls.
We switch spots after dinner; Justin takes the wheel of the moving van while I navigate. Once we’re back on the road, we reconnect his phone to Spotify, and the game of name that tune begins. Laughter fills the cab, intermingling with the melodies of old hits and new chart-toppers. The night settles over us like a blanket, stars twinkling.
Hours later, the neon vacancy sign of a roadside motel beckons like a lighthouse to weary sailors. We pile out of the cars, stretching limbs and stifling yawns, and shuffle toward two rooms with two double beds that smell faintly of pine cleaner.
“Shotgun—not sharing with Rhys,” Justin jokes as he, Rhys, and I enter the first room. He tosses his duffel onto the closer bed, but then he winks at me, and I know exactly what’s on his mind. He pulls me close under the guise of a goodnight hug, yet his hands wander with familiar intent.
“Justin,” I whisper against his ear, “not with Rhys here.”
He pauses, then laughs softly. “Yeah, bad idea.”
With each state line we cross, Justin hands me a new magnet, a quirky, colorful token that I accept with a smile that mirrors his own. Tennessee’s magnet is a salute to Elvis, Arkansas boasts a cartoon chicken, Oklahoma’s a miniature red wagon, and Texas a lone star that glitters faintly in the late-afternoon sun.
“Collecting memories,” he says, each time our fingers brush, and I’m smitten all over again.
New Mexico surprises me with its stark beauty; the magnet, a chili pepper wreath, is fiery against my palm, and Arizona’s cactus stands tall on its magnetic backing in my growing collection. With every stop, with every night spent in yet another motel room, I fall deeper into this journey, into the life I’m weaving with Justin.
Finally, California greets us with a golden bear magnet, symbolizing the end of our road trip but the beginning of everything else.
We navigate north and eventually reach the crowded streets of San Francisco. Austin’s found them an apartment in the heart of it all, and I can barely process how much city there is until we’re standing in front of their new apartment.
“Here we are,” Justin says. And this does appear to be the right place, but it’s nothing like the pictures he holds in his hands. There’s a gritty realness to it—homeless people huddle in doorways and the ground littered with trash. The buildings up and down the block press close together, no gap between them, no grass—only stretches of concrete and steep hills dressed in asphalt.
“Cozy,” Rhys quips behind me, and I catch a shared look between the guys.
Justin has explained that the smaller their salaries, the less money they take from SHN, and that limits SHN’s stake in EnergiFusion. The guys want to keep it theirs as much as possible. They’re living together to save money, thinking practically about this new venture, and I respect that.
“Definitely…different,” I manage. The city is alive with an energy that’s foreign yet thrilling, and I know it’s going to take some getting used to.
“Come on,” Justin urges, taking my hand and leading me inside. “This is just the start.”
I nod, the magnets in my pocket a reminder of the journey behind us—and the adventure that lies ahead.
A few hours later, the boxes are unloaded, and the moving van has been returned. Austin and Rhys have one room and for now Justin and I will share the other with Theo. But Theo declared pretty much right away that he’ll be sleeping on the couch. It’s not a perfect solution, but until I have a job, I can’t afford anything else.
Living with the guys is going to be tough—five of us in a small, two-bedroom apartment. The only way I can do this is to remind myself it’s only temporary. Once I have a job, I’ll move out.
Now, we’re ready to explore. We call a rideshare, and the five of us squeeze inside. Soon enough, the familiar scent of ocean salt hits me. My heart flutters with anticipation—this is the first time I’ve seen the Pacific Ocean.
“Look!” Theo points out the window, his excitement evident.
I crane my neck and catch my first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. Clad in its iconic orange paint, it stands out against the crisp blue sky.
“Wow,” is all I manage to say, my breath catching at the sight that has symbolized this city for me.
“Welcome to the Pacific, Crystal,” Justin murmurs, his hand finding mine.
The rideshare drops us off at Pier 39, and instantly, the vibrancy of Fisherman’s Wharf envelops us. Tourists bustle past. There is so much to take in. We wander around, snapping photos of each other with the bridge as our backdrop. Justin presses a kiss to my forehead as he takes a selfie of us and saves it to the home screen on his phone.
Justin grabs my hand and pulls me away from the guys, flagging down a taxi. He whispers something to the driver, and we speed through the city, passing skyscrapers and crowded streets. The cab stops at a busy corner, and Justin leads me down a street lined with designer storefronts. We window shop, admiring shoes that cost more than our rent and clothing we could only dream of affording.
“We’ll have this someday,” Justin says, squeezing my hand.
We continue walking until we reach Alta Vista Park. We climb up a steep set of stairs to the top where we’re greeted with an incredible view of the city. The sun is setting over the Golden Gate Bridge, casting a warm glow over the entire landscape. I can’t believe I’m here, experiencing this moment with Justin by my side. I take in every detail—the elegant homes surrounding the park, the sparkling bay in the distance, and Justin’s beaming smile. This is a memory I’ll treasure forever.
We spend the next three days drinking in every bit of San Francisco. We explore Golden Gate Park, where I marvel at the acres of green grass and trees—a contrast to the urban landscape of our new neighborhood. We ride the cable cars, clinging to the sides as they clatter up steep hills, offering panoramic views of the city. We visit Chinatown with the rich aroma of spices and dim sum floating through the air.
“Feels like we’ve stepped into another country,” Justin comments, a wide smile spreading across his face.
“It’s a part of San Francisco’s charm,” Theo replies, snagging a pork bun from a street vendor.
Oracle Park beckons us next, its stadium by the bay a field of dreams. We take turns standing in front of a green screen with a batting helmet on, pretending we’re hitting home runs over the right-field wall, splashing into McCovey Cove.
“Giants game, anyone?” Austin suggests, but we’re too caught up in the whirlwind of firsts to commit to anything yet.
Our final adventure takes us on a boat tour to Alcatraz. As the island looms closer, an eerie chill brushes over me despite the sun’s warmth. We step onto the rock and roam the cells, the dining hall, the recreation yard. It’s haunting and fascinating at the same time.
“I can’t imagine being cooped up here,” Justin whispers as we peer into the cramped confines of a solitary cell.
“Freedom’s just across the water, yet worlds away,” I muse, squeezing his hand.
When it’s time to return, the city sprawls out before us beyond the water, and it no longer feels quite so foreign. No matter what happens with Justin, I feel like these last several days have bonded us together for life.
“San Francisco suits you,” Justin says, nudging me as the wind whips through my hair.
“It suits us,” I reply.