Page 37 of Every Beautiful Mile

***

The next morning, cup of coffee in hand, I open the email waiting from Ethan.

Penelope,

My bartender did not know the classic daiquiri, but he learned it, made it, and you were right—it’s good. Oddly, I’m not surprised.

My favorite meal to make for people is cheeseburgers. Shocked? I know it’s simple, much like your daiquiri, but there’s so much potential to elevate it. Now, yours won’t be nearly as good as mine for the obvious reason of your subpar non-Maine ingredients, but here’s what you do: buy a good quality ground sirloin (imperative), and then into the raw meat add minced garlic (not too much), sun-dried tomatoes (only about a tablespoon, chopped finely) and honey mustard (just a little), and salt (to taste—right before you put them on the grill). When you’re cooking, ONLY FLIP ONCE! Why do people get so flip-happy with burgers? I never understand it.

Also, this is a test. Ruin this burger, and I’m done.

Ethan

On the way out of town after breakfast, we stop at a grocery store and get all the ingredients to make burgers for dinner.

Fifteen

“I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s just a big hole in the ground.”

Week three on the road and Finn is irritated by everything as we drive. Namely, the fact that the AC in the cab of the truck isn’t consistently working. And he hates my coffee. And he found out his friends are registered for a big fishing tournament this weekend he clearly can’t take part in.

“Finn, are you serious? The Grand Canyon is so much more than a hole in the ground!” I argue from the driver’s seat.

“Whatever,” he mutters, clearly annoyed. “Are we about done with this yet? It’s been two weeks, and now the dumb AC isn’t working.” He slams his hand against the vent closest to him. “Can we just go home? I mean, what else do you want to do here, Mom? You seem happier now. Can’t we just get back to our lives yet? It’s not like Dad’s here to care about his stupid list of places, anyway.”

The last words are nearly drowned out by the sound of him kicking his foot against the floorboard.

I grip the steering wheel and swallow hard—inhale for four, exhale for four—before I speak.

“You’re fishing for an argument I’m not having while I have sweat dripping down my damn neck, and we are minutes to one of the most amazing things on this planet. Just because you’re pissed off your friends are doing something without you, you don’t get to ruin this.”

When I say I don’t want to argue, what I really mean is I am one response away from pulling the godforsaken Avion over and leaving him to fend for himself against whatever is out there.

He stares out the window.

The truth is, Finn isn’t the only one who is frustrated. The road is slowly sucking the nice out of all of us. There’s so much on Travis’ list and with the distances between everything, there’s little time left for us to enjoy any of it. Something like seeing the Grand Canyon should be exciting, but today, it feels like just another box to check.

Apparently, one that Finn doesn’t want to check at all.

The cool breeze that meets us once we get out of the Avion is a welcome reprieve. Hints of sage and pine float in the air as we follow the signs toward an overlook. Every breath feels like the world’s first oxygen as it fills my lungs.

We turn a corner, blindly following the crowd of tourists along the sidewalk, as the sun dips low and wispy clouds are sketched across the sky.

Finn points to a secluded spot tucked between two big rocks with a clear view into the canyon we’ve yet to see. As we walk over to it, what’s hidden beyond the ledge comes into view and brings me to a stop.

Marin squeezes my arm with a whispered “Whoa!”

I’ve seen pictures of the Grand Canyon. I knew what to expect as far as shape and terrain. I knew it was big. I knew it was so steep on the edge that people died falling into it. I’ve read that pictures never capture the bigness of it all and can never prepare anyone for what it feels like to physically stand there and see it.

In that moment, I know they are right. Despite it being a moment devoid of sadness, tears fill my eyes.

Finn crouches on the rocky ground while I drink in the view like a thirsty traveler at a much-needed water fountain.

The cliff edge we sit on drops down sharply before sloping out into a jagged ledge and then dropping down once more before repeating the shape. It continues that way, a concoction of cliffs and formations sloping down into the ground, a mile below us and miles out around us. The Colorado River curves below us like an unraveled spool of thread.

“It’s like looking in the belly of a mountain,” Marin says, eyes wide. “I can’t believe how big it is.”

I turn to Finn slowly. “Still think it’s just a big hole in the ground?”

---