Page 32 of Every Beautiful Mile

Over a fucking mountain.

Marin and I sit in the front seat, Finn napping in the back, when the engine starts to struggle.

A sign saying Entering the Guadalupe Mountains flashes by us as I grip the steering wheel for dear life and sweat drips into every crevice of my body.

Marin fidgets with the cassette deck in a way that makes my teeth grind.

“Shut it down, Marin!” I snap.

The music somehow makes it harder to see the road.

She rolls her eyes. “Yikes, Mom, take a chill pill.”

“Get your brother,” I demand.

I am literally pressing the gas pedal to the metal of the floor. We don’t gain any speed, but the arms on the dials stagger into the red zones.

Shit.

Shitshitshitshit.

Semi-trucks crawl by with lights flashing at reduced speeds while cars whiz by us. My anxiety ratchets up to a level I didn’t know possible in a mountain range I also didn’t know existed.

“Marin! Now!” I snap.

My hands start to shake around the steering wheel as all the blood slowly drains from my face.

Another eyeroll, then a flat call of, “Finn! Wake up. Penelope’s freaking out.”

We are about to drive off a cliff and die, but my teenage daughter can’t be bothered. I’d be angry if I weren’t terrified.

“Finn! We got a situation.” I shout. “Now!”

My now must relay that we are in some deep shit because Marin’s attitude drops in an instant.

She looks over at me, no doubt noticing my ramrod-straight spine and white knuckles.

“Okay, wait, what’s going on?” she asks as Finn crouches down behind her seat.

“Finn, we are in the mountains, and I don’t know what to do. We are barely moving, and the gauges are all… misfiring or something, I don’t know. And it’s hot as hell in here,” I stammer as I wipe my forehead. “Did Gabe tell us what to do? Or is there a button? Or…”

A semi buzzes by us, turning every muscle in my body to stone.

“Like, did he give us tips on how to not roll backward in the mountains or something?”

I try to ignore the cliff that’s inches from the passenger door.

He scoffs. “Mom, how would Uncle Gabe know how to drive in the mountains?”

Not helpful.

I take a shaky breath. “Okay, fine. Okay. Let’s just figure this out.”

The engine is loud, louder than I’ve heard it in the previous 2,000 miles. Loud enough to tell me we are not fine.

Far from it.

“This gauge says it’s hot, I guess. And do you hear how loud everything is?” I yell unintentionally.

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