Page 33 of Those Two Words

“Definitely in my top three of places I’ve lived. I haven’t been back to San Diego for years, not since I was eighteen, but that’s a great place to visit too.”

Quinn is originally from California and has lived in twelve different states since she left. Her dream has always been to run her own bakery; she just needed somewhere to start it. She has zero connections here, but a dart thrown drunkenly at a map made the decision for her. I’m grateful it landed on Sutton Bay.

“This view will put the ones you saw in Colorado to shame.” We have mountains here, but we’re known for our vast forests and breathtaking ocean views.

“Oh, it already has—what more could you want.” She throws her hands up in the air and spins around in a circle.

“I’ve missed this place like crazy. You’ll love it in the summer. We’ll have to go camping as long as you don’t mind the mosquitoes.”

“Bah, they’re just hungry. I heard fall is pretty spectacular around here?”

“Yeah, it’s something else. Watch out for the leaf peepers come October.”

“The what peepers?” she asks.

Chuckling at the look on her face, I step over a large muddy puddle. “Tourists who flock to New England to look at the changing colors of the trees. It’s a whole thing, but I know the best spots to avoid them.”

“Ooh, I cannot wait. I’ll be knitting us the cutest sweaters for fall.”

“I didn’t know you could knit?”

“I can’t,” she says. We stare at each other for a beat, before breaking out into a fit of laughter.

The path ahead narrows, so I walk in front and pull back some overgrown ferns, letting Quinn pass by first.

She really is the most sunshiny human I’ve ever met and has a wardrobe to match her personality.It’s been really nice getting to know her and making a friend who doesn’t know me as the girl who abandoned her friends and family.

“I’ll have no issue finding you if you get lost,” I say with a glance at her outfit. She’s wearing a bright pink raincoat, paired with purple space leggings.

She shoots me an overly dramatic look of worry. “You will not lose me today, Johanna. Shit, the bears can probably smell the sugar on me.”

We walk and talk for another ten minutes, planning a wine and cheese night at my apartment soon. When a set of jagged rocks comes into view, I know we’re near the top.

“Almost there.” I’m unsure if I say that for my sake or hers, but as the horizon breaches the hill, the ground below our feet flattens and the breath in my lungs stalls. This view never fails to take my breath away, but after not seeing it for years, I’m immobilized by how awestruck it leaves me.

This is home.

Stopping a few feet from the scraggy cliff edge, we stand between a small opening in the trees; pine, aspen, and fir encircle us. The water reflects the clear, blue sky, making the horizon appear seamless. Lush green and cerulean blue. The water is choppy today, and the waves crash below us, lancing up into the sky when they hit the small islands dotted around the inlet. Sea birds dip and dive into the water with ease, cresting the surface minutes later with a fishy dinner.

Calmness sweeps over, all the stress that’s built up in my muscles dissipating as I soak up the picturesque view. A splash of water lands on the back of my hand, and I look up at the clear sky in confusion, only to realize I’m crying. These are sad tears as much as they’re happy. It feels therapeutic, like a weight is being lifted with each tear that falls and every breath of pine and salt water I take in.

It’s easy to forget the days when I couldn’t see myself escaping the black hole of anxiety and depression when I’m standing here.

My eyes drift to a large pine tree that stands out from its neighbors, its trunk thicker and rougher, showing its age. Where all the other trees have started to tilt from being exposed to the strong winds, this one stands steady. That’s exactly why my dad, Harriet, and I chose it. Resilient, with a striking presence, just like Mom.

Forgetting that Quinn is standing next to me, I brush away the tears, hoping she isn’t weirded out by my sudden outburst of emotion. But when I turn to her, she gives me a knowing look.

Smiling softly, she takes hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“We all need a good cry now and again. Happy, sad, angry, excited—you name it. It’s healthy. Don’t feel ashamed when you need to let it out.”

Her words of acceptance abolish the shame I know I shouldn’t hold about being vulnerable, and I squeeze her hand back. And then I do exactly as she says. I let it out. The tears track down my face and I don’t know how long we stand there, but she doesn’t let go of my hand the entire time. When the well of emotions is empty, I let out a watery laugh as the wind cools my tear-soaked cheeks.

“It’s just so good to be home. I never thought I’d be here again and feel so…so content. It’s been a rough…” I pause, but her encouraging smile gives me the push I need. “It’s been a rough few years. I’m sure you’ve overheard people talking about it.”

“I try not to listen to town gossip. From personal experience, nothing good ever comes from it. I won’t pry, but if you ever want a judgment-free zone, I’m all ears. We all have our ghosts.”

I nod my thanks and pull my backpack off my shoulders. Pointing to a few smooth boulders, we make our way over. “Let’s get set up over here, it’s a great spot to eat lunch, and you can see the whole bay.”

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