Page 21 of Every Beautiful Mile

“It does not,” I scoff defensively, too shocked to say anything else.

He raises his eyebrows as if saying, does too, and casually shakes his hair out of his face.

I don’t respond, only staring at him a beat longer. Finn drinks coffee; yet another thing I missed.

“Mom! Let’s go!”

Marin’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

Through shaking hands, my heart pounding like a drumbeat, and multiple attempts at talking myself out of it, I get into the driver’s seat and point the Avion north.

“We’re doing it, guys!” I bounce on the bead-covered driver’s seat as we cross the bridge to the mainland. “We’re going on an adventure! Six hours to Tarpon Springs, where we can eat the best Greek food outside of Greece and see sponges straight out of the water.”

Marin and Finn are silent, staring out the windows from the dinette table in the back.

Six hours turn into eight when I realize we are driving through the Everglades and insist on stopping at the same ridiculous attraction we went to years before with Travis. To the surprise of no one, the prices are still too high, the mosquitoes are still hungry assholes, and a shirtless man feeding raw chicken to alligators still isn’t impressive.

The t-shirts we buy are just as absurd.

***

After five horrible attempts, I still can’t get the Avion backed straight in our spot at the campground.

Finn shakes his head, frustrated in the reflection of my side mirror.

“Mom, get out and let me do this. Didn’t Uncle Gabe show you how to back up?”

Annoyed, I do as he says, irritated as he backs in perfectly on his first try with a smug smile on his face.

Once we’re set up—attaching cords, hoses, and pulling out a few chairs—we only have a couple hours to explore the small town of Tarpon Springs. We walk by piles of sponges that line the docks fresh from the water and eat the best baklava I’ve ever had. A street performer plays lonely songs on a violin that Marin twirls to as we wander down the sidewalk after dinner. Finn keeps his eyes on his phone and any other day, it would annoy me, but today I’m just happy we made it.

When we get back to the camper, the rush of adrenaline from the day is gone and leaves me exhausted.

Marin pulls out a deck of cards.

“Rummy?” she asks, shuffling them.

Finn nods and takes the seat across from her. I shake my head with a yawn.

“I’m tired,” I say, dropping kisses on their heads.

“Night, Mom,” Marin says, dealing the cards. “Love you.”

“Love you guys.”

Finn lifts his chin. The closest thing I’ll get to love you, too from him tonight.

Inside, I bumble through a quick shower in the too-tiny bathroom and climb the ladder up to my coffin-like loft bed. When I pull the little curtain closed, I breathe a sigh of relief.

We did it.

I smile until I realize I’m spinning my wedding band. I slide it off my finger, the faint light from the window reflecting off the shiny gold.

It weighs you down like an anchor.

I reach into the small space between the mattress and the wall and grab the box my dad gave me.

“Travis,” I say out loud, snapping my mouth shut instantly at the sound.

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