Page 16 of Every Beautiful Mile

“We have three months to plan. I thought we could start by writing down places we want to go and see how they align with what your dad already wrote.”

Marin sits cross-legged and eager on the floor by a whiteboard with the marker as Finn flops heavily on the couch.

I raise a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“I can’t let Marin come up with every stop, or it’ll be ten weeks of vintage stores and weird art galleries. If you’re forcing me to do this, I’m making sure it isn’t a total waste.”

He rolls his eyes in annoyance but props his feet up on the coffee table.

I bite back a smile. Because, dammit, if this doesn’t feel like the slightest bit of a win.

By dinner, there is an explosion of lists over every flat surface and sticky notes all over the map.

“What about the bar, Mom? Does Grandpa know about this idea?” Marin asks between bites of pizza.

“Funny story,” I say, not thinking it’s funny at all. “Grandpa told me yesterday he wasn’t letting me work this summer because I needed to fix myself.” With my confession, I pivot. “I’m going to ask Gabe to teach Finn and me to drive the camper. Your dad’s life insurance paid off the rest of the mortgage. The money also let me set aside accounts to pay for your college, and the rest I put in savings for… whatever.” I pull stretchy cheese strings off my pizza. “Ten weeks of seeing things we’ve never seen before seems like a pretty good reason to spend it.”

Marin and I study the wall of chaos in front of us as Finn hammers out a text on his phone.

“So, Finn.” I wipe my mouth. “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

“Yep,” he says, popping the p without looking at me.

“Are you guys—you know—serious? Or doing serious things?” I ask as nonchalantly as possible.

Marin snorts into her cup.

“Yeah, we aren’t having this conversation.” He stands up without looking at me. “I have homework.”

“Right. Of course. Goodnight. Thanks for doing this.”

I smile but know it does nothing to hide my disappointment.

He’s already down the hall, the too-familiar sound of his door closing landing heavy on my chest.

“He’ll come around, Mom,” Marin says softly.

My eyes burn as my stomach sinks. The boy I had put Band-Aids on and read picture books to looks at me like a stranger. Hell, maybe I am. It’s a reality I’m not prepared for.

Travis died and time kept going, but I had stood still. For the first time in a year, I feel an emotion I hadn’t before.

Ashamed.

Ashamed, I’ve been so lost in my own grief I didn’t pay close enough attention to these two amazing creatures that live right under the same roof as me.

I look back at the map. This will either be the thing that breaks us for good or the one that stitches us back together.

Six

Three-months later...

“They’re here!” my mom yells as she waves her arms and scrambles down the steps of their stilted canal-side house.

My dad is in his usual attire—blindingly bright floral shirt and flip-flops—while my mom floats across the yard in a long skirt and paint-splattered sleeveless shirt. Her hair is long, wavy, and wild, like her, and her eyes twinkle as she claps her hands together with a gasp. She gazes at the camper in her driveway like it is the most magical thing she has ever laid eyes on.

“Penelope, this is simply wonderful.” Her tone is pure whimsy, like she’s imagining a thousand fairy tales playing out. “I came to the Keys in a van a lot like this in the 70s. I was going to find my big break as an artist, you know. Instead, I found your dad. He cared more about a good time than art, but still, it was love at first sight.”

Her face fills with a dreamy smile.

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