Chapter 4
I tried to listen to an audiobook, some business tome, but couldn’t manage the focus it required.
Then, I put on a crime thriller and couldn’t get into that, either.
Only just across the Bay Bridge, I had already run out of material for the six-hour drive ahead of me.
Turning on the radio, I drummed my fingers across the steering wheel to songs I didn’t recognize.
It was still foggy over the Bay and the bridge wasn’t congested. I tried to keep my mind busy, but there was nothing to distract me. My worst nightmare.
Don’t judge me. You’d also be hesitant to listen to your thoughts and follow your impulses if the one time you’d let yourself go, you’d been left heart-shattered, alone, and furious you hadn’t protected yourself better.
My career was on the fritz, but at least it couldn’t obliterate my heart the way love could.
There was so much I didn’t like to think about.
If I allowed my mind to start running, I’d be consumed by the very same emotions I worked so hard to control.
Josh had always wanted me to “open up,” and he was right that I never had.
He was also right that he didn’t know me.
I didn’t want him to know me. I never wanted another person to know me ever again.
Because when they know you, wow can they hurt you.
But it only took an hour of staving off the drift of my mind before the memories I avoided the most started pouring in.
Memories that felt like they belonged to someone else, as if they existed in movie scenes—a fictional story, told in the third person, in which someone else’s heart broke.
It was so much safer to view it that way. ..
7 years ago, Stanford University
During her Introduction to Philosophy elective class that she’d avoided until her senior year, she sat front row and was the very picture of studious, writing notes by hand.
She was on scholarships, grants, and hefty student loans at prestigious Stanford University; the last thing she’d ever do with her education was waste it.
He tapped her on the shoulder lightly, leaned forward before she’d had a chance to turn around, and whispered, “Never in my life have I seen anyone with such focus.” She was not used to receiving compliments about her intensity, so the hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention and before she could see who the voice belonged to, the professor swept into the room and began the lecture, which she didn’t miss a word of.
After it was over, the row behind her had cleared out save for just one man with black-rimmed glasses and a sideways smile, looking at her with his arms crossed over his chest, as if he had all the time in the world to wait.
“I’m Noah Hawthorne,” he said, sticking his hand out.
“Charlie Quinn,” she told him, and when she shook his hand, they both looked at each other wide-eyed at the literal spark that transferred between them.
“So, how do you do it?” Noah asked. He wore a loose denim jacket over a faded black shirt and gray sweats.
It should have looked rumpled and careless, but he wore it with breezy confidence, and she felt that unmistakable, rare flutter of immediate attraction.
He shifted, blushed slightly at the top of his cheeks, like he noticed her noticing him.
He ran his hands through his thick brown hair and adjusted his glasses, which covered brown eyes offset by dark eyelashes.
“Do what?” she asked.
“Focus on something as mind-numbingly boring as Mr. Pratt’s lectures.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, shaking her head. “I am tragically and debilitatingly addicted to being a straight-A student. If I don’t receive an A in this class, I may actually die.”
He let out a loud guffaw. “Brutally honest,” he said. “I like that.”
“Brutal, being the operative word.”
“High standards?” he asked.
“Impossibly.”
“Your parents?”
“No, worse,” she said, a hint of a smile playing across her mouth. “My own.”
“Aaah,” he said, clicking his tongue. “I have the opposite problem.”
“Let me guess.” She made a show of assessing him up and down while his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Rich parents. Old money. A father that never made his own way, so he takes it out on you?”
“Check.”
“High ambitions for their golden boy?”
“Check.”
“You resent them for it, have zero expectations for yourself, and are a chronic underachiever just to spite them even though you are intelligent and capable?”
He stood up and softly clapped. “Check, check, check.” He picked up his simple hunter green backpack, and slung it over his shoulder. “Honestly I’d be impressed but I’m too forlorn about being so predictable.”
“Don’t be,” she said, gathering up her own backpack and following him out to the lecture hall aisle. “I’m really just that smart and perceptive.”
He laughed that uninhibited booming laugh again and her heart actually fluttered.
“I bet you have wonderfully supportive parents, don’t you?”
“Parent. Singular,” she said, turning to watch him walk up the stairs.
He was tall and long-limbed, but he was matching her pace and footfalls.
“Funny enough, my mom is extremely free-spirited and I am the uptight, responsible one who hates emotions. Let’s just say, she isn’t quite as enamored with my focus as you apparently are. ”
“You hate emotions?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“Yes, they’re very distracting.”
“I’m a Pisces. I’m just one big emotion all the time.”
“I’m a Virgo. I like order.”
“We’re hanging out at the extremes. I’m all feelings. You’re all to-do lists.”
She laughed. “I can’t tell which is healthier.”
“Neither,” he said. “I fear you are emotionally repressed and I am emotionally fragile. A terrible combination. We should never fall in love.”
“God,” she said, too quickly. “I should hope not.”
He went wide-eyed again. They were at the doorway and she was going to be late for her next class if she didn’t leave in one minute.
“I’m that unlovable?” he asked in that teasing, but also sensitive way she now associated with him.
“No,” she said, walking off and waving. Over her shoulder she added, “I am.”
The scene faded to black when my phone blared through the car speakers. It was Benny. I shook myself off like I was coming to from a daze.
“Are you on the road yet?” she asked, in lieu of a greeting.
“Of course.”
“Thank God,” she said. “I thought for sure you were going to tell me you weren’t coming.
I had a speech planned. It was quite moving.
” She paused. “Well, it was more of a guilt trip. Or a threat. If you weren’t coming down, I was bringing Mom and coming up and forcing ourselves into your apartment armed with your astrological chart and a full breakdown of the emotional journey of your next ten years, which you would have hated, so it’s a good thing you’re on the road. ”
“Are you done now?” I asked, laughing.
“Yes,” she replied, and I could hear her yawn through the phone. It was ten in the morning. Just another difference between Benny, Mom, and me. They were both night owls. “I couldn’t sleep I was so excited. I’m going to clean. Are you at the Grapevine yet?”
I smiled, despite myself. The Grapevine.
That brought back memories. It was the last long highway before you hit Los Angeles and when I used to come home from college, Benny would always ask that: Are you at the Grapevine yet?
And for some reason, that question made me feel loved.
Like she was waiting for me. That was before everything happened, though.
Before I stopped coming home altogether.
“Not yet,” I said. “Maybe another hour.”
“What road trip snacks do you have?”
“I just have coffee.”
“Charlie!” she practically screeched into the phone. “Pull over right now and get snacks. Who are you? You cannot road trip without snacks . God, we have a lot of work to do.”
I laughed, because Benny could warm even the coldest heart. She had that unflappable ability to never let you get too serious. Sometimes I avoided her because of it, even though I felt guilty doing so.
“Okay, jeez, calm down,” I said. “I’m exiting.
What should I get?” I never ate junk food.
Not because I didn’t like it, but because I wouldn’t allow myself.
I wasn’t sure why I had that rule. Or all the rules I had.
Probably because it was easier to follow them instead of leaving anything up to chance.
Certainly, it wasn’t because I hated my body or was on a diet.
Mom always said, Hating yourself is a gift to the patriarchy, Charlie baby.
My own mother was a slave to her body and counted my calories.
It drove me crazy, her obsession with thinness.
It was like she truly believed the only thing she could offer this world was her ability to fit into a size four.
I promised myself if I ever had daughters, I’d teach them what self-love looks like.
Probably the only words of her wisdom I still heeded.
“What should you get?” Benny asked. “Wrong question. More like, what shouldn’t you get?
Don’t get anything healthy. I swear, if you get some raw-almond-trail-mix shit, I’m going to be so upset.
I need photographic proof of what you buy, Charlotte.
I don’t trust you to your own devices. You need Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, obviously.
Cool Ranch Doritos. Chex Mix. Red Vines. Do they have gummi bears?”
I couldn’t help giggling. She was absurd in the best way. “I’m not even there yet! You’re like a junk-food sommelier.”
“I am,” she said, tone serious. I could practically see her nodding wisely into the phone. “Thank you for noticing.”
At the one lone gas station at a random exit off the 5, I pulled my car into a parking spot.
The bell chimed above the door and Benny said, “Oh, you’re inside now.
Yes. The road-trip-shopping excursion is very important, Charlie.
Smell the smells. The burnt coffee, the hot dogs that have been slow roasting for twenty-four hours, the distinct aroma of either a Subway or McDonald’s that’s attached to the gas station.
Use the restroom. There will not be any toilet paper in it and the soap will be out.
Get a massive fountain Diet Coke. This is all part of the experience . ”
“You are honestly ridiculous,” I whispered, but I found myself noticing everything that she was describing. It did smell like burnt coffee. The hot dogs were at the counter, wilting and roasting. There was even a Subway in the back.
“Am I wrong?” she asked, like she was right there next to me, pointing and saying I told you so .
I went into the restroom and into a stall. “There’s toilet paper, though.”
“Oh, you stopped at a fancy gas station.”
The restroom smelled terrible. “Fancy is a stretch, Ben.”
She laughed. “Okay, gather your supplies. Cheetos, Chex Mix, Cool Ranch. The three big C’s. Don’t forget the fourth, though—Diet Coke.”
“I don’t even drink soda.”
“Why does that matter? You’re on a road trip, Charlie.
You are out of bounds of your normal life.
Road Trip Charlie drinks fountain Diet Coke and eats Cheetos until her stomach hurts.
You better feel like crap when you get here.
You need to be dehydrated and lacking nutrients. That’s how you road trip.”
“Okay, okay,” I relented. “I am just easing my digestive system back from food poisoning, but what does that matter?”
“How are you doing by the way?”
“Fine, thank you for your immediate concern.”
She snorted.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just excited you’re coming. Are you okay, though?”
“Surprisingly, I feel fine.”
“Good. Now, what music are you listening to?”
“An audiobook? The radio?”
She let out a comically loud sigh as I filled up a thirty-two ounce cup with ice and Diet Coke. “Charlotte Ruby Quinn. The radio? I can’t believe this. No sister of mine is listening to the radio on a road trip .”
“You are so demanding.”
“I had no idea how much I had to teach you, damn.”
“What should I listen to, then?”
“Just click the link I sent you. It’s a playlist. Listen to the whole thing. Do not skip. This is the beginning of your education.”
“What education is this?”
“How to Actually Have Fun in Life.”
I rolled my eyes, but I could feel the smile creeping in. “I have fun.”
“No, you don’t,” Benny said. “You know I’m psychic. I just got a hit. You’re coming to LA and I’ve decided that the Universe wants me to teach you how to be absolutely fucking delighted by life.”
“Okay, tell the Universe I’m going back to San Francisco.”
She let out a loud cackle.
“Don’t forget the gummi bears!” she called out. “Drive safe! See you soon. Love you!” And then the phone disconnected and I stood in the aisle looking for Cheetos and wondering what I’d gotten myself into.