Fourteen
Tait
For some reason, the close quarters of a vehicle always seem to press on a situation, or mood. Which is probably why I love driving alone, most often with music as my only companion these days. Cole and I used to be able to sit silently for hours on a road trip. I was always in charge of the playlists or the stations. He’d occasionally reach across the center console and grab my hand, or squeeze my knee—knowing I hate it—just to draw out a laugh and an eye roll.
Grady and Emmaline Logan are not comfortable, companionable passengers.
Before we even get in, they argue over whether or not I should be the one to drive. Emmaline is adamant that he should drive, allowing her and I to talk without distraction. Grady is just as adamant that she should, since she’s been around the longest “since she is practically ancient” and it would be second nature to her, anyway. She eventually agrees, but then Grady decides that is actually not the best choice since she is so ancient and would likely drive us off the road.
So… I am driving, hands at ten and two while being peppered with questions in between being given directions. They start out about my work, about where I live, how I like it, my hobbies, etc.… then escalate dramatically.
“So, you’re not married,” Emmaline states more than asks. “When did you split?”
“I guess it’s been about three years now. Two since it was official.”
“What caused the split?” she asks, like it’s a question as simple as “what’s your favorite hobby?” or “where did you go to school?” Not “what catastrophic event took place that caused you to examine your entire identity and your ability/willingness to ever trust someone again, let alone have hope for a future that includes love and partnership?”
Blame it on the pressurized atmosphere in the vehicle, or the fact that I’m only able to answer with the bare truth since my mind is also focused on driving. Either way, the answer ends up flowing out of me because my feeble dam has officially sprung a leak…
“He fell in love with someone else… Well, more specifically, he fell in love with one of my best friends. They are both firefighters and work together. Cole had helped her get on with them—I’d actually pushed for it, ironically. I was traveling a lot to do freelance work. He was ready to start having kids. I wasn’t. I had a whole checklist of things that I felt like I absolutely needed to do prior to having them. I guess I thought there would be less chance of me being unfulfilled if I checked off those things, and I’d have less chance of screwing them—the hypothetical kids—up…
“And, yeah, I was blindsided. We had what I thought was a really good marriage, despite me not exactly having any good examples for comparison. But, while I was shocked at the time, I look back and realize that I should’ve had my suspicions. I think I even know exactly when it started.”
I can sense them both gauging their responses, approaching me like a wild animal whose trust they’ve just earned.
“When?” Grady quietly prompts.
“I think it was when I was just starting out in photography. I was doing freelance work, but blogging on the side and really hoping to build a platform based on that. Maybe become a travel blogger of some kind, or something. It was a bit aimless, so I took every job I could. I got an assignment working on a fire that Cole was also on. I surprised him at his hotel before I told him I even had this gig…” I clench my eyes shut, blinking away the memories that try to resurface.
“Anyway, it was for this article for a university that was studying how California wildfires had increased so much in the last couple years, the environmental impact, etc., and they wanted their photographs to be something more avant-garde to highlight the devastation. I got this one shot, though, and for some reason, I knew I wanted to keep it for myself.
“It was a shot of this canyon that was split, as in, exactly down the middle. One side completely decimated, the other still lush and green, wildflowers everywhere. I almost missed it at first, but in the corner of the photo, near the top of the canyon on the green side, was a mountain lion. She had her eyes closed and her face pressed toward the sun, sitting peacefully. My guess is that she’d had to outrun the fire, but still, she just couldn’t be bothered in that moment to be skittish or scared about it anymore. It’s like there was all this unbelievable devastation and her home was ruined, by no fault of her own, but she still knew she could find somewhere safe, green, and warm.” I clear my throat.
“I was excited, and just really moved by that shot. I showed up at his hotel that morning and he was excited for me to stay there with him, to be there while he was getting his break at Basecamp. I thought it would feel like being at summer camp together or something…
“He’d seen some fucked up things on that fire… burnt animal bodies, countless burnt homes. And—and a few people who’d been trapped in their vehicles. One was a kid.” I inhale shakily. “I guess he’d gotten separated from his family on a hike. They had barely escaped, but he had made a wrong turn…
“People don’t realize how fast fires like that can move. Cole used to tell me the noise of them—the roar alone was one if the scariest parts. And he—this poor kid must’ve gotten into the car hoping it would protect him.
“And then there I was, completely oblivious. I came back and told Cole all about this stupid picture, about what I saw and how I felt about it—probably sounding so ridiculous. So selfish and unaware. I just had to get home, and get it edited and developed as quickly as possible. I remember him being supportive, but it seemed forced, you know? I was so caught up in my own bullshit that I think I just didn’t think about his perspective.
“I remember Allie being there, being a wreck. She’d been the one to initially find the boy…
“So, I think that I took off, excited about this damn picture I took, and they leaned on each other instead.”
They’re both silent for a moment. I see Emmaline swipe across her face quickly, before saying, “Well, sweetheart, you don’t discount what you do and make excuses for what he did. He could have asked you to stay. He made choices, too… When you’re married or family, and you need someone, it’s on you to communicate that. If you can’t, what’s the point? You should be able to tell someone when you want to lean on them, or if you just need them there. And before you start, Grady, and try to tell me that sounds like codependency or some mumbo jumbo—it’s not. I’m talking about expression, and honesty. If you didn’t let yourself be happy or successful, Tait, because of him, well, that would be codependent, plus just a damn shame. Your picture could have inspired a whole other chain of events in someone’s life for good. Maybe someone saw that and will now pursue a career in environmental studies or preservation, or even firefighting, who knows? A picture, a dream, a story—whatever it is that causes that initial inspiration, that tiny thing is the spark. It is absolutely paramount that you see that, and that you still be proud of pursuing your dreams…
“… and also turn left here.”