Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
W hen I’m offered—and accept—the job, there’s little time to celebrate. I have two weeks to exit the life I’ve made in California and report for work in Virginia.
My veins pump a cocktail of exhilaration with a twist of anxiety as I nail down the many details.
I find a studio apartment from three thousand miles away, sight unseen, thanks to some help from the magazine’s human resources coordinator.
It even comes furnished—beyond helpful until I can afford to buy some furniture.
As for my current abode, Kendra luckily knows another law student who needs a place and can move in once I exit.
According to my father (and I don’t disagree), my Beetle is too old and dilapidated to drive across the country and lacks the cargo space to haul my stuff.
He helps me shop for a car and generously makes the down payment on a brand new red Toyota, and I leave the lot with my first new ride…
one that comes with five years of monthly payments.
It’s boxy and economical—nothing remotely sexy like American muscle—but earns points for the “sports package” adding a spoiler and pinstriping .
My parents agree to store some of my belongings so I can focus on taking necessities.
The same day I drop off storage items, my father and I map out my trip using the newest road atlas, including likely motel stops.
It’s almost a straight shot from California to Virginia, so I’m allowing four days, although it could take less.
The moving expenses stipend from the magazine will cover those costs and then some.
Then it’s time for goodbyes.
First on my list—and the easiest to leave—are my parents. Even though we’re on better footing since I left home, it doesn’t erase years of neglect.
The hard part is knowing my mother has one foot in the grave, and she’s the one killing herself a little more each minute.
“Suicide Is Painless” isn’t only the theme song from M*A*S*H , it’s hers.
Severely underweight, popping Valium and drinking wine every day, she’s so sickly she’s unemployable—and stubbornly refuses to seek help or change.
I despise her for it on top of a pile of anger and disrespect.
My father drinks himself into nightly comas, surely continues cheating on her, and seems to remain blissfully in denial about his wife…
or he’s given up like I have. I’m unable to deal with their problems, and deep inside, I want to distance myself as fast as possible.
Three thousand miles will do that in spades.
Our goodbyes are quick.
I hug my mother first. “Please take care of yourself, Mom.” She won’t.
“You too, honey. Go show those Virginians how amazing you are.”
“I will.”
She squeezes me—as best she can in her frail state. “Don’t forget about us.”
My grip stays loose, worried her birdlike bones will snap under pressure. It’s a relief to let her go and shift to my father.
“Be careful driving to Virginia. Stop if you get tired, but don’t linger at rest stops. Err on the side of caution, okay? As a young woman, you’re vulnerable traveling alone. And don’t forget to call when you get there…and from time to time.” He gives me a firm squeeze and releases me.
I glance from one parent to the other. We’re not big on verbal pronouncements and sentiments, but it seems right, considering it’s a significant moment. “Love you guys.”
“We love you too,” they echo, and my chest loosens, relieved they said it back. I could probably count the number of times they’ve told me they love me on two hands. Maybe one.
Opening the door to the Toyota, I settle into the driver’s seat and roll down my window. Giving them a final wave, I take off, watching their figures recede through the side mirror until they’re two dots…and then gone.
I release a shuddering breath. Fear of the unknown looms—along with elation. And I’m one step closer to meeting both head-on.
After I make it back to San Francisco, Kendra and I talk past midnight, not really wanting our last night together to end. We laugh, cry, and pledge to stay in touch and kick ass at our respective professions.
The following morning, I pack my remaining belongings. My gaze lingers on the earrings and anklet Mick gave me, then I resolutely place my jewelry case in a duffel bag with my clothes. I’m leaving the big furniture for Kendra’s next roommate, which makes my life easier.
After stuffing everything into my car, I take the apartment key off my ring and leave it with a final note to Kendra.
I absorb one last look as I drive through the city, not knowing when I’ll return, then I accelerate onto the freeway and cruise down to San Jose.
Upon my arrival, Jas, Kit, and I stand in a group hug for five minutes.
It’s been too long since I’ve seen my old roomies, and a sharp pang lodges behind my sternum as we reunite.
These girls have been there for me through some of my brightest—and hardest—days the past few years.
Leaving them fills me with a sudden, unexpected grief.
They are two of the kindest, funniest, and best human beings I know—and volunteer life rafts during my stormiest time. Will the distance sink our friendship?
“There goes the mascara,” I choke out.
Jas sniffles. “Mine too.”
Kit huffs out a big breath. “No crying!” she pronounces.
“El Torito’s for old times’ sake?” Jas asks.
I nod and we trade smiles, each wiping our cheeks.
“No tequila,” I warn. “I have to drive tomorrow.”
Kit emits an evil laugh. “Sure thing, Jax.”
At the restaurant, we share a pitcher of margaritas and nachos. And a few rounds of tequila shots. We reminisce, catch up on the latest in our lives, and soak in our last meal together…for a while.
We return to their apartment and stay up way too late.
I crash on their couch, the same one from our condo that has comforted us all at one time or another.
The one Mick slept on when Remy, Mick, and I were trying to remember how to be the Three Musketeers.
The one Jas and I needed when we were recovering from our car accident.
The one the three of us sat on watching Cheers and Taxi and nursing hangovers.
It’s full of memories that seep into my mind as I sleep, fueling restless dreams.
In the morning, I share a rushed, fierce goodbye with the girls as they head to their respective jobs and leave me to shower and lock up.
I have one more stop on my way out of California, and I haven’t told a soul I’m making it.
My insides thrash as if a school of minnows swims in my bloodstream, darting one direction then another, the closer I get to Half Moon Bay.
When I pull up at the marina and spot Mick’s blue Mustang, my pulse pounds. I glance into the rearview mirror for vanity’s sake and apply a quick coat of lip gloss, then walk into the office.
A young woman greets me. She’s pretty in a modest, underdone way.
Not a lot of makeup, no flashy clothes. Her curly beige hair is pulled into a ponytail and held by a ruffled pink scrunchie.
The place looks the same as I remember—borderline cluttered, with brochures in racks to my left, advertisements for boat trips and rentals plastered along the wall behind the long counter.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
“I’m looking for Mick Callahan. Is he available?”
She glances at the open calendar on her desk, then to me again. “Did you book a rental or charter? I’m sorry, but it’s not listed.”
“No, it’s…personal. I’m an old friend.” That’s understating things a tad.
Her face falls before she catches herself, and her gaze turns assessing. “Sure, well, yes. Let me tell him you’re here.”
“Actually, if he’s in the marina and not with a customer, can I just walk out there to meet him? You can point me in the right direction. I, uh, know my way around.”
“Oh.” Pause. “I guess.” She appears to grapple with my request—maybe my whole presence.
“Thanks. So…where can I find him?”
She points me to the dock on the far left and I leave her, likely watching my every move. A twinge of jealousy spikes. If I were a betting woman, I’d say she’s dating my former lover.
I spot Mick working on a large sailboat, and drink him in. His muscles flex under his T-shirt, his hair’s shorter, and a circle beard hugs his face. It suits him. Mr. Incredible is only better looking, if that’s even possible. Shouldn’t there be a law of physics against that?
“Hey, stranger,” I say.
Mick glances up, surprise registering before he tilts his head and offers me a genuine smile, one that lights up his spectacular face. “Jax.” His eyes scour me quickly, then he leaps from the bow of the sailboat onto the pier.
My heart pounds like the traitor she is, despite all the pain, anger, and angst Mick left in his tsunami wake. He moves closer until we’re standing at arm’s length. His skin is weathered from the sun, the lines at the corner of his lips slightly more pronounced in his smile.
“I’m leaving. California, I mean.”
“Yeah?” His hand rakes through his hair, distracting me. There’s a flicker of pain in his eyes but when he blinks, it’s erased.
“I just wanted to say goodbye. We didn’t…” My gaze shifts to the horizon, then back to him. “I didn’t want to split without letting you know.”
His gray eyes warm, filling me with a rush of emotion so strong that my heart jolts. “Where you headed?”
“East coast. I’m going to work for a magazine in Virginia. The Travel & Culture section, if you can believe it.”
His eyes shine with something like admiration—or knowing him, satisfaction. “That’s great, Jax. Good for you.”
I nod, offering up a small smile. “As a wise man once told me, I should be proud of myself. And I am.”
Mick smiles broadly enough to show me that dimple I love.
“Will you tell your mom, and say goodbye to her for me? She inspired me so much.”
He nods, still beaming. “She’ll be stoked to hear the news.”
“How’s Remy?” I force out.