Page 30 of Every Beautiful Mile

My eyes.

As much as he hates me at that moment, he still looks exactly like me. It’s the only thing that reminds me that no matter how far apart we get, we are still very much connected.

“Your dad and I always said we wanted to drink with you first. It was our plan for when you turned 18,” I say as I pop the tops off both and hand him one. “It’s only a few months away, and I feel like a breakup in a town called Marfa is a good reason to move the timeline up. Plus, considering the fact I’ve been living with my head in the sand, I know there’s a chance this will not be your first beer.”

I raise an eyebrow as his eyes bounce from me to the beer, then back to me.

I take a sip of mine and welcome the hoppy, citrusy flavor with a sigh before he does the same.

I fold my arms on the picnic table and meet his gaze. “I’m sorry Abby broke up with you, and I’m sorry I gave her a reason to. I’m not sorry we’re here.”

“So, is this some kind of bribe or something? You give me a beer, and I forgive you for dragging us into the desert?” He shakes his head, picking at the label on his bottle without looking at me.

“No, but I thought it might help. There’s an alcohol loophole in Texas for minors with parents. I figured I’d take advantage of it on a day such as this.” I twirl my finger through the air..

He laughs softly and takes another sip of his beer.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.

“Not much to say. I’m gone for ten weeks. She didn’t like it. Now it’s over.” His voice is flat, face resigned.

“Well, she might change her mind when you get back. Or you might change your mind. Time changes perspective in ways we don’t expect sometimes. And sometimes people are in our lives at a certain time when we need them and fade away when we don’t.” I pause. “Your dad would have had something more profound to say here, I bet.”

He shrugs. “Dad might not have looked up alcohol laws regarding minors and then served me a beer, though.”

It’s almost a compliment.

He tilts his head to the side and looks at me, raising his beer up, which I gladly clink mine against.

It’s a moment I can feel being stamped on the timelines of our lives. A story he’ll fall back on later, maybe if he becomes a parent and feels like he’s doing a piss-poor job. Maybe he’ll think about this night in a weird town called Marfa and remember me showing up in my own messy way, beer in hand.

When the door of the Avion swings open, Marin fills the doorway wearing a denim skirt and rhinestone cowboy boots.

“Oh, that’s fair. The hussy breaks up with him, and he gets a beer?” She crosses her arms over her pink flannel shirt with a pout.

“Don’t even think about it, Mar.” I raise my eyebrows. “And how do you have such a Texas-worthy outfit?”

“Oh, Penelope, you underestimate me.”

She clicks the heels of her boots together and grins.

When we finish our beer, Marin forces us to the music.

***

The singer is a big, broad-shouldered guy with a short beard, cream-colored cowboy hat, and a Texas-sized smile. He owns the night in scuffed-up boots that effortlessly slide across the worn wooden stage with the beat of the music.

His voice is bluesy, but his lyrics are pure country, an unexpectedly soulful combination I feel all the way in my bones.

“This is amazing!” Marin yells over the music.

I nod and turn to Finn. He’s neither smiling nor scowling, an odd sort of victory.

Hipsters and cowboys create a kaleidoscope of denim, flannel, and leather across the crowd. The dance floor in front of the stage is filled with young girls twirling with arms overhead under strings of lights. Food trucks serving BBQ and beer are surrounded by people with happy faces. Like all the problems they have were checked at the metal gates they walked through to get here.

“We have to go dance!”

Marin’s gray eyes shine as brightly as her ridiculous boots as she takes my hand and drags me out to the dance floor.

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