People usually take the path of least resistance . . .

 . . . which often translates to wishful thinking. At least, it did for me.

Days disappeared, one behind the other, and suddenly I was looking at Thanksgiving weekend—four days of homework catch-up, family turkey feast at my aunt and uncle’s, and a youth group retreat which was so far removed from anything I’d ever do on my own, but I was going as Fritzy’s guest.

I loved the whole holiday season starting with Thanksgiving and finishing with New Year’s Day which signified the beginning of the end-of-school-year countdown. But this year I thought about it in a different way. Mrs. Dickinson would be flying to Chicago where her daughter lived, and Lady was coming to stay with me for the long weekend. But as far as I knew, Liza and Mr. Pirkle would be alone. That took a little of the glow off that warm feeling I usually carried around inside of me that time of year.

Speaking of Pirkle, it had been five days since I spoke to him, and the idea of reaching out and digging slipped a few notches on my priority list. I was going to do it. It was still important. It still really bothered me when I allowed myself to think about it, so I just didn’t allow myself to think about it too much. Then that Wednesday before Thanksgiving, something was bothering Alana during yoga class, and I knew I’d hear about it during passing period. Hoping it was bad news about Bryce, I ditched Gus in the locker room, knowing Penelope would wait for him.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Alana asked. The mope in her voice was audible.

“We’re going to my uncle’s for Thanksgiving. But I’ll be around except for Sunday.”

“What’s happening Sunday?” she asked like a jealous wife.

“I’m going to a youth retreat with a friend.”

“What friend?” Alana knew me well enough by then to know I only had a handful of meaningful friends.

“Fritzy,” I answered, wondering why I should feel guilty about it.

“The big girl?”

“Yes, the big girl, Alana. You know who Fritzy is, so you don’t have to say that every time I mention her name.”

She looked down, and when she looked up again, I saw her eyes were soft with the shine of tears.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.” She had that nasally snotty sound when she spoke like she was holding back a floodgate. “Seems like you’re a little touchy about her.”

“Okay, sorry for jumping on you. So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“My dad and I are going to the restaurant at the Hilton on Thursday. They serve a Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That sounds like fun,” I lied. It sounded like the most depressing thing I could imagine, but I couldn’t invite people to my uncle’s house.

“Guess what Bryce’s doing?”

“Um . . . do I have to?”

She ignored my sarcasm. “He’s going with his family to their house in Palm Springs.”

“Cool. Must be nice to have a house in Palm Springs.”

“He didn’t invite me.”

“Oh. Well, sorry about that.”

I didn’t care. I didn’t care. And yet, I so cared about her unhappiness.

“I didn’t really expect him to. I mean, we hardly ever spend any time at his house. With his family. But . . . it just hurts, you know?” Her nasally, snotty cry-voice got all quivery.

I wanted to reach over and grab her hand and squeeze it, or put my arm around her shoulder and draw her close to me, or tousle her messy hair and tell her everything would be all right. But I couldn’t touch her that way. Those were our unspoken rules.

“I’m sorry,” was all I said.

“Thanks.” We’d reached the door to art class. “Hudson . . . I decided I’m going to see my mother this weekend. I’m going to leave Friday and come back Sunday.”

“Your mother?” She hardly ever talked about her mother, and I certainly didn’t know her mother was within visiting distance. “Where does she live?”

“In the foothills . . . gold country. It’s about a four-hour drive from here. I haven’t seen her in over a year.”

“Are you going with your dad?”

“Are you kidding? My dad doesn’t want anything to do with her. But he doesn’t care if I go. He actually wants me to visit her more often than I do.”

“So how are you getting there?” I knew Alana didn’t have a driver’s license, and Bryce was going to Palm Springs.

“There’s a Greyhound Bus that goes there. It takes a lot longer, about seven hours each way, but it’s fine, I’ve done it before.”

“Seven hours? You’ll practically just get there and have to turn around.”

Could I see the trap being set for me? No. Eighteen-and-in-love equaled “stupid.”

“It’s fine.” Her thick lashes were dewy with tears. “It’s something I have to do even though I’m completely freaked out by the idea. But I know it’s probably the last time I’ll see her for . . .whenever . . . a long time. I mean, if I go . . . if we go traveling after graduation, I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to live in this country again.”

The trap was set and had already been sprung. I was already thinking about how I was going to get out of the retreat with Fritzy. Who was going to take care of Lady? Who was going to cover for Distress Dial calls? How was I going to catch up on homework?

Sometimes, even now, I wonder why I stuck around hoping for as long as I did when it was obvious to everyone, including me, I didn’t stand a chance. The answer is, undoubtedly, that my addiction to her was so strong I was willing to accept her on any terms, even if it was much less than what I needed. And there was always the hope I’d be the last man standing and win her love through sheer perseverance.

>>>

Mom was furious. I didn’t expect her to be happy, but I didn’t think she’d be that mad.

“Who’s supposed to watch the dog? I hope you’re not thinking I’m going to do it. Who’s going to take your business calls if they come in? Again . . . not me.”

“I’ll take care of it, Mom. Don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything.”

“And you’re going to take care of it, how?”

“Fritzy’s my business partner,” I lied. If Fritzy could only hear me throwing that out so easily after we’d just argued about it. “She’ll step up. It’s just for three days.”

“She’s going to take the dog into her home?”

I hadn’t asked Fritzy, but I was counting on it. Without her, the trip couldn’t happen. I also hadn’t told her I wouldn’t be going to the youth retreat.

“She’ll do everything. It’s fine. The business is on auto-pilot.”

“Auto-pilot? Last I remember your Mr. Pirkle was in the middle of a meltdown. So you’re going to saddle Fritzy with that responsibility just to give Alana a ride which, by the way, I hope she’s at least paying for gas.”

Hearing her talk about Pirkle’s meltdown made me flinch. I’d been pretty good at burying that somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind for the past week. Hearing Mom put it that way made me think about the gerbils I got when I was twelve. I’d begged Mom for a pet when the goldfish wasn’t quite cutting it. She didn’t want to deal with a cat or a dog so we agreed on a gerbil—actually two. They were fun at first but soon started fighting. Every morning I’d wake up and check on them only to find one or the other bloodied. My duty to the gerbils quickly evolved from pleasure to ball and chain. Why had I asked for them? Finally, I convinced Mom we needed to return them to the pet store. I wasn’t equipped to handle the devastation that occurred inside their cage on a daily basis. I never asked for another pet again.

When I first started my business, I didn’t think of it as a ball and chain. But that was before Alana Love came into my life.

“She’ll pay, Mom. Her dad gives her all the money she needs. She has her own credit card.”

Mom stood before me, hands folded across her chest, casting the evilest eye she could muster in my direction. I knew it was almost over.

“Isn’t that nice for her?” she dripped sarcasm. “Okay, Hudson. You’re eighteen and you’re obviously going to do what you’re going to do. Since you’re an adult, behave like one and drive responsibly.”

>>>

Fritzy didn’t yell at me like my mom did. But then again, she didn’t have to. Fritzy was pretty good at conveying her feelings with the arch of a disapproving eyebrow or the curl of a skeptical lip.

“You’re going to owe me big time, Wheeler,” she said.

She wasn’t kidding. When we’d finished negotiating, I’d agreed to pay her the equivalent of one month’s Distress Dial profits for being on standby for Pirkle (who probably wouldn’t call). I’d keep up my calls to Liza who wouldn’t know where I was as long as we had daily contact. Pirkle’s calls would come to me and only be routed to Fritzy if he required an actual visit. Even then, Fritzy would only have to walk across the street. She’d get all the money for taking Lady into her home for three days. In addition, I’d owe her one big favor sometime in the future.

“I’m sorry about the youth retreat,” I said. “I was really looking forward to it.”

“Don’t even say that. It just makes you sound stupid.”

“I mean it.”

“Well then don’t go with Alana. It’s not like someone’s holding a gun to your head.”

“If you were in trouble and needed a friend to help you out, wouldn’t you want me to be there for you?”

“I am being there for you.” She flipped her heavy braid from one shoulder to the other.

“I mean Alana. She’s having a really tough time with all this. Her mom has practically been non-existent in her life, and it’s not easy for her to face it alone. Her dad won’t go with her. You don’t know what it’s like. You have a mom and dad who love you.”

Fritzy shook her head in disbelief and then spoke slowly and deliberately. “Wheeler, please spare me the drama. Why are you always making excuses for that girl?”

“I’m not always making excuses.”

“You’re always making excuses. And you’re always getting caught up in her drama. Do you actually think she’s going to dump her boyfriend just because you’re driving her to see her mother? Think again.”

I knew she was right, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I was making a fool of myself. I was about to have three days away from home with just me and Alana. And her mother, of course.

“I . . .”

“Just go, Wheeler. I’ll see you when you get back. And don’t worry about the retreat, I’ve got plenty of friends there. Just too bad you’re not going to be one of them.”

>>>

It was drizzling and gray when we pulled onto the freeway the day after Thanksgiving. With all the negatives weighing on me, the weather was a perfect match for my mood, although Alana’s happy chatter slowly chipped away at my wall of doom and gloom. The path of least resistance . . . it was looking pretty good to me right then. But I was committed, and there was no turning back.

As the freeway turned into a smaller freeway which turned into a freeway in name only, I felt a little bit lightened from the heavy load of guilt I’d been carrying around. We drove on country roads through towns that looked like they hadn’t had makeovers since the gold rush days. That was a good thing in my mind.

“It’s like another world out here.” I imagined a life where Alana and I lived on a ranch, grew all our own food, tended a zoo’s worth of animals, and wrote graphic novels in our spare time.

“It’s pathetic.” A bucketful of cold water on the imaginary ranch and all its animals. “I can’t believe my mother and sister choose to live out here.”

“Wait. Your sister?”

“Yeah, my sister lives with my mom.”

“You never mentioned you had a sister.”

“I didn’t? I’m sure I must have. Well, anyway I have a sister . . . Chloe.”

“How old is Chloe?”

“Fifteen.”

I was astonished. A bad parent is one thing. Okay, I guess I could understand how you avoid seeing them for a year. But a sibling? I’d prayed for a sibling my whole life and felt cheated for not having one. Alana had a sister and chose not to have contact with her? Bizarre.

“How about your dad? Does he ever see Chloe?”

“No, she doesn’t want to see him. When the divorce happened it was like battle lines were drawn, and on one side was me and my dad. On the other, my mom and Chloe.”

“Sad.”

“I don’t know about sad. Sad would be if any of us cared and wanted things to be different. But we don’t.”

“I still think it’s sad.” We stopped at a red light on one of the main streets of a small town, which was actually a named freeway though you’d never know it. “You wanna stop to use the bathroom or get something to eat?” I asked.

“Nope,” Alana answered tersely. Prompted by the tightness in her voice, I looked over at her, but she stared straight ahead. “I don’t think it’s sad, Hudson. I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you. I just meant that I think it’s sad when family members don’t want to be together, that’s all.”

“Families are made up of distinct individuals. They don’t all march in lock step and they don’t always like each other or have anything in common with each other for that matter. We don’t get to pick our family members. Don’t you ever fight with your mom?”

“Of course I do. But I wouldn’t ever cut her out of my life. She’s my mom.”

“Well, to me, sad is more like when your dad dies when you’re ten years old. But you don’t hear me saying that, do you?”

I exhaled heavily. I never expected retaliatory pettiness like that from Alana Love.

“Okay, Alana, you’re right. I’m a sad case. Now can we move on?”

The car behind us honked to let me know the light had changed. I pulled forward. Neither of us said a word. I popped in a CD and turned up the volume.

“I’m sorry, Hudson,” Alana said after about a minute. “I’m an idiot. You’re right, it is pretty sad. But I’m just freaking out about seeing my mom. Forgive me?”

She reached over and put her hand on my thigh. Not high enough to send any kind of message. Just more next to my knee. But even my knee was thrilled. Alana, it seemed, could break the unspoken rules of no-contact at will. Apparently, only I had to abide by them in Alana Land.

“Yes, I forgive you,” I said, placing my right hand on top of hers. But she quickly withdrew her hand at that violation, and we reconstructed our wall.

We don’t get to pick our family members. We do get to pick our friends.

>>>

The foothills were dwarfed by the Sierra Mountains, but they were still high enough to make our ears pop while we ascended. They were cold but not frosty. Warm but not balmy. They were fairy tale lands where every home looked like an old log cabin. Where tall pines pierced the sky like bayonets and icy streams carved out routes through ancient rock formations on their way to crystal blue lakes. They radiated dust—lots of it. And tangy air.

The foothills were an in-between world for people who wanted to disappear. From truth. From lies. This was where Alana Love’s mother brought her daughter, Chloe, to firmly and permanently put her stamp of disapproval on Alana’s father and everything he stood for. This was where she drew her battle line, as Alana put it. And it was a battle line that wasn’t easy for Alana to cross.

Twenty minutes before we arrived, Alana called her mother to let her know we’d be visiting.

“I wasn’t sure if I was going to turn around at the last minute,” she explained to me. “But now we’re here, and you’re here with me, and I know everything’s going to be fine.”

“What if she hadn’t been here? If she was out of town or something?”

“Then we would have gone home,” Alana offered simply. “No big deal.”

But I knew it was a big deal for her. She was changing before my eyes, becoming smaller somehow. And frail. Is it possible a person can lose size in the face of extreme anxiety? It seemed that way. For the first time that day, I thought about Mr. Pirkle, and my mind clouded with regret. Was I failing him? Would he have another meltdown while I was away? I checked my watch to see how much time I had before Liza’s nightly phone call.

>>>

The cabin was quaint and rustic. In front, a thin stream threaded its way through smooth and polished stones. The water was clear and cold. We walked single file across a narrow footbridge, and I thought I saw minnows below us, but it might have just been shadows. Wind chimes tinkled from the front porch where an empty rocker invited the weary traveler to rest underneath a sign that said, “Welcome To Our Home.”

The door sprung open and out stepped a vision of Alana twenty, thirty years into the future. Her name was Heather. Heather Glen, an obviously made-up name. She took it, Alana had told me, in order to start a new life, away from the husband she claimed was emotionally abusive. Heather Glen. She was, I suppose, a hippie, if those still exist. Alana didn’t believe the part about emotional abuse. In fact, she claimed it was her father who was emotionally abused by Heather. To me it seemed like everyone was throwing that term around too easily. They gave up on each other and then looked for a place to lay blame.

I could see right away where Alana’s ethereal beauty came from. Heather had that same natural non-pretty prettiness. She was the falling-star, the wounded doe, the one with the obvious crack in her heart. Like mother like daughter.

So how could she walk away from her daughter, I wondered? It takes a bad parent to leave a child, no matter what Alana said. A child’s natural instinct is to cling to her parent. Look for the good in them even when they’re bad.

“You two can have Chloe’s bed,” Heather said after I was introduced. “Chloe, you can sleep with me.”

Heather and Alana were carefully stepping around each other. Sizing each other up.

“We don’t sleep together, Mom,” Alana offered too quickly. It was strange to hear the word Mom directed at this stranger.

“Why not?” Heather arched her eyebrows, rippling the smooth skin on her forehead.

“We’re just friends.”

“Too bad,” Heather laughed and Alana flushed pink. “He’s a good-looking guy, this Hudson. I thought you said he was your boyfriend.”

“That’s Bryce.”

I’m here, I wanted to say. You’re talking about a person who can hear every word you’re saying.

“Let me look at you.” Heather held Alana at arm’s length, hands on Alana’s shoulders, feasting her eyes on the sight of her older daughter. Then she pulled her swiftly and hungrily towards her. “Give me a hug, won’t you honey?”

Alana’s arms hung limply at her sides, but they slowly crept up until she was clinging to her mother as if for life. Chloe watched without emotion. It was a touching but somewhat disturbing scene.

Chloe. She had none of her mother or sister’s charm. Did she take after the father? I’d only seen him in passing, so I couldn’t be sure. Her face was oval instead of round like Alana’s. Laugh lines hadn’t left their mark near the corners of her eyes or mouth. Her hair was dark and heavy. Her eyes slanted upwards and her nose was fine and straight. She was probably more traditionally beautiful than her sister and mom, but she didn’t radiate like they did. She was like a black hole surrounded by brilliant stars. Soaking up energy without allowing any of it to escape.

When the hug ended, Heather turned to Chloe.

“Bring a bottle of wine and four glasses. We need to celebrate!”

A wood stove burning in the corner of the tiny sitting room made this cabin plenty warm, but Heather brought out blankets and tucked them around us as if we were newborn babies. I accepted a glass of wine which made me glow like the corner stove. We hadn’t eaten since morning, so Chloe grudgingly offered to heat up lasagna left over from their dinner. At some point, my watch alarm went off, and I stepped outside to make the call to Liza.

After a while my stomach was filled. My senses were blurred by the fire and wine and closeness to Alana, and the soft blankets wrapped so tightly I felt almost fetal. The women talked and I listened. The fly on the wall. Only there to make Alana feel safe. It wasn’t about me, so I did my best to melt into the overstuffed cushions on the couch. I didn’t see a TV but I saw lots of books. I recognized Alana’s artwork on the wall, framed with rustic, unstained natural wood. I saw ashtrays, but no cigarettes. I think I may have nodded off for a few minutes because I had a vision of Mr. Pirkle. Demented. He’d followed me all the way there.

After a while I tuned back into the conversation and heard Heather say something about dessert, and then Chloe appeared with a plate of brownies Heather said would help us sleep.

“Don’t take one,” Alana hissed a warning. “They’re weed brownies.”

I laughed to be in on the joke, but nobody else was laughing.

“You don’t partake, Hudson?” Heather asked as though I had just come out against tooth-brushing at a dentists’ convention.

“No, not for me,” I said, and then quickly added so as not to appear judgmental, “it’s fine, though. I have no problem with anyone else doing it.”

Heather guffawed softly and, I thought, a little rudely.

Alana broke off half a brownie and picked at it for about twenty minutes. After that she got quiet and said it was time for us to go to bed.

Bed for me was a heap of cushions thrown on the floor by the side of Alana’s bed. I brought along the blankets that covered us earlier. We didn’t bother changing out of our clothes; we just collapsed with what we had on. No brushing teeth, no shower. Just a quick trip to the one and only bathroom to take a piss. When the lights went out, Alana went out. I lay awake for a long time listening to a hooting owl just outside the window and the faint answer of its mate in the distance. The whispered breaths of sleep sliding through Alana’s parted lips.

>>>

When I woke, Alana was gone. I put on some clean clothes and ran my fingers through my disheveled hair. There was no mirror in the room, but I had a good idea of what I looked like, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. I grabbed my toiletry bag and made for the bathroom only to find it locked and occupied. I went back to the bedroom and blew into my cupped hands, testing for bad breath. Positive. With no other recourse, I wandered out to find the others.

I followed the sound of low voices into the kitchen. I couldn’t hear the words, but I knew Alana well enough to recognize not only her voice but her mood. It wasn’t happy. When I stepped into the kitchen I saw Heather and Alana sitting at the tiny table, coffee mugs in hand.

“Morning sleepy-head,” Heather chirped. “Want some coffee?”

“I’ll get it for you,” Alana rose from her chair. “Sit. You want oatmeal? We could make pancakes, but oatmeal’s easier.”

“Oatmeal’s fine,” I said, allowing her to wait on me as compensation for my being there.

I could hear water running in the bathroom. A shower? I wondered how long it would be until Chloe was done. And if I could hold off, or be forced to find the nearest bush outside. It was kind of like camping, without the actual fun of camping.

After breakfast, Heather suggested a walk, so the three of us bundled up in jackets and set out along one of the deer trails that crisscrossed the vast open area surrounding the cabin. Chloe chose to stay home. From what I’d witnessed, she and Alana had exchanged less than a handful of words since our arrival and no physical signs of sisterly affection.

“Tell me about yourself,” Heather said after we’d been walking for a while.

“Hudson’s an amazing artist. He’s working on a graphic novel,” Alana answered before I could open my mouth.

“What’s a graphic novel?”

“It’s laid out like a comic book, illustrated that way. But it’s like a novel in terms of the length and maybe the seriousness of the topic.”

“Fiction? Non-fiction?”

“It can be either. Mine will be fiction.” There was no novel yet, but that much, at least, I knew would be true.

“Will be?”

“I haven’t really started one yet. I’m still thinking through what I want to write about.”

“Any ideas?” Heather asked.

“Mom, we’re only eighteen. Give him a break.”

“I just meant . . . is there anything compelling you want to write about?”

“Mom!”

“Yes,” I answered. I didn’t need Alana to run interference for me. “Lots of things.”

“Like?”

“Lots of stuff,” I muttered. “I just have to get it organized in my head.”

I was right about that. “Stuff” was exactly what I had a lot of in my head. Lots of it.

“Do you and Alana have any classes together?”

“We’re in yoga and AP Art.”

“Yoga’s a wonderful way to exercise the body and mind.”

“Hudson runs two businesses,” Alana blurted out. I wondered why she was so intent on building me up.

“Two businesses! At your age, that’s very impressive.”

“At any age, Mom.”

“At any age. Absolutely. What types of businesses, Hudson?”

I felt uncomfortable with the focus on me. I was supposed to be the fly on the wall, not the elephant in the room.

“I have a dog-walking business and another one . . .”

“Called Distress Dial,” Alana interrupted, “where older people call him 24/7 for any emergency.”

“How admirable. Really.”

Two squirrels raced across the path just in front of us before scampering up a tree. I leaned over to retrieve a pine cone that tumbled down in their wake. I turned it around in my hand. It was flawless.

“His dad died when he was young so he and his mom have to manage on their own.”

I accepted that my life had been temporarily hijacked. For whatever reason Alana displayed it like a trophy for her mother’s benefit. But she was also waving it around like some kind of a sword that could cut her mother in two. She was transforming into a girl-child before my eyes, begging for her mom’s approval and then attacking her when she got it. I didn’t want to be anyone’s model. I’d run off from responsibilities and friendships just to chase after a girl who cared nothing for the real me. The real flawed me. I hadn’t even told Alana about Mr. Pirkle’s private nightmare. I hadn’t told her about how I’d flaked out on Fritzy’s invitation to the youth retreat. The one Fritzy was so looking forward to. I tossed the pine cone into the underbrush.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Hudson,” Heather said. By the lack of real emotion in her voice I knew she was wise to what was happening. “It must have been hard on you.”

“His mom’s great. She’s really strong.”

We’d arrived at a place where it was impossible to ignore the obvious. It either had to be dealt with or we all had to go off on our own separate deer trails. We’d been walking for a while so I didn’t have a clue where we were or how to get back to the cabin. If I’d known, I would have left, claiming the need to use the bathroom or shower despite the disturbing thought of being alone with Chloe. Heather got right to the point.

“You know, Alana, I wanted to take both you girls with me when your father and I split up, but that wasn’t possible.”

“Well, I guess it might have been possible for you not to leave in the first place.”

“No, that wasn’t possible either.”

I wondered how I should act under the circumstances. Should I pretend to admire the landscape? Pick up another pine cone? Stare at the sharp blue sky filtered through millions of pine needles? I sneezed.

“Bless you,” Heather said.

“Thanks.”

“Anything’s possible. If you want to make something happen, you can. You just make that choice.”

Heather sighed deeply. “Alana, my dear, I’m aware you think you know everything at the tender age of eighteen, but believe me, you don’t. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Oh, I will? What will I understand, Mother? How old do I have to be? Why don’t you just tell me now and save me the trouble of having to figure it out on my own?”

Thankfully, the path had narrowed enough so I could drop back a few steps and get out of the line of fire.

“You’ll understand that relationships don’t always work out the way you hope they will. And sometimes you have to walk away for the good of everyone.”

“Maybe you should have figured that out before you had kids,” Alana muttered.

“What about you, Alana? Where’s Bryce? Why are you here with Hudson instead of your boyfriend?”

Yeah, why are you? I thought. Don’t answer that, I thought immediately afterwards.

“Nice try, Mom.” Alana practically spat out the words. “I’m eighteen and he’s my boyfriend, not my husband. I don’t have kids, and besides, I’m not even going to be with Bryce after graduation. Hudson and I are going to travel to Europe for a long time. Years maybe. Maybe forever.”

“Oh, really?” Heather, suddenly noticing I was no longer next to them, turned around to look for me. “You okay with that, Hudson?”

“Umm . . . yeah. We’ve talked about it.” I shoved my hands into my pockets.

“That’s why we’re here. I came to say goodbye because I won’t be seeing you and Chloe for a long time. Who knows when?”

“Your father’s okay with this?”

“I’m eighteen, Mom. I do what I want. Dad’s always been supportive, and I’m sure I’ll see a lot of him since he travels to Europe all the time.”

“Oh, yes. Very supportive. Well, good for you he’s so supportive. I’m sorry if you think I haven’t been.”

Oh, man! Why am I here? Anything would be better than this.

We all fell silent and, other than the muffled sound of footsteps on thick dust and dead, crackling pine needles, only a birdsong was audible. Once again, Heather broke the silence.

“You know why Chloe’s with me and you’re not? It’s because she needed me more. I knew you’d be fine without me, but Chloe would never have made it with your father. She’s not strong like you, Alana.”

“Bullshit.”

“That’s not nice.”

“Well, it’s true. It’s bullshit. You were always so busy worrying about Chloe, you never bothered about me. You think I didn’t need a mother? You think I’m some kind of a fucking robot?”

Alana was borderline losing it.

“You’re self-sufficient, Alana, in a way she’s not. And your father was going to fight me for custody of one of you.”

“So that was your Sophie’s choice, I guess. Nice.”

“You and your father always got along.”

“I know. And thank God I stayed with him instead of you, or I’d be living like some kind of a freak out here in the middle of nowhere.”

“Be careful what you say in anger,” Heather said, without raising her voice. “Don’t say anything now you might regret when I’m gone.”

“When you’re gone? Gone where?”

“When I’m dead. Don’t harbor regrets the way I have with my own mother.”

“You’re already gone, Mother. You were never there to begin with. This is bullshit.”

Alana turned around and marched right past me in the direction from which we’d just come.

“Hudson, we’re leaving. Let’s go home.”

Heather looked at me as though somehow I was going to make everything all right. Produce a Band-Aid to patch up all those years of frustration and resentment that had rubbed them both emotionally raw. I kind of shrugged my shoulders and held out my hands. Then I turned around and trotted after Alana, the obedient puppy that I was.

“Are you sure you know the way back?” I asked the back of her head, but she didn’t acknowledge the question.

I turned around to look at Heather, but she just waved me on. She sat down on the ground and pulled her long skirt tight around her ankles. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. Her shoulders shuddered and I knew she was crying.

>>>

Back at the cabin, we quickly gathered our things and shoved them into our overnight bags. Chloe looked up from her book as we were just about to make an exit.

“Where’s Mom?” she asked.

“She’s coming later. I guess she wanted to walk some more,” Alana answered, her voice somewhat softened. The lie itself was an act of compassion at least.

“Why are you leaving?”

“Hudson just remembered something he had to do back home. Something with his business. So I guess we’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, okay,” Chloe said. She stood up awkwardly as if unsure of how to say goodbye to this alien sister of hers. She chose instead to say goodbye to me. Apparently, I was everyone’s stand-in.

“Bye. Nice to meet you,” she said.

“Nice to meet you too. Thanks for everything. Thanks for giving up your bedroom last night. Sorry it didn’t work out that we could stay longer.”

“C’mon Hudson, let’s go.” I knew Alana was anxious to leave before her mother got back.

“No problem.” Chloe followed us out the door and watched as we climbed into the car and pulled out onto the dirt road which would eventually lead to the main road back to the highway.

Her long, thick hair, parted in the middle, hung like a curtain over her narrow white shoulders. For one brief moment, I could swear I saw all the sadness of the world contained in those slanting dark eyes from which nothing ever escaped.

“My life is a disaster,” Alana finally said after we’d been driving for nearly thirty minutes.

I wasn’t about to be the first one to speak. To try and summarize the catastrophe of the past two days. Disaster seemed a pretty good word for it, though.

“Don’t be silly. You have brains. You have talent. Half the girls in the world would give anything to trade places with you.”

“Nice try.”

“I mean it.” I didn’t. “Don’t talk like that. You have to look at the good things in your life. Feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help.”

Why do people always say things like that?

“Hudson. Please. I don’t mean any offense, but spare me the pep talk, will you? Just be real. I know what my life is, and it sucks.”

That made me mad. I wasn’t exactly the happiest camper by then. I was pretty down on myself for the people I’d disappointed or pissed off the past few days. Why did I have to give her a pep talk? I could have used one myself. But I didn’t say anything. I still loved her. I forgave her.

“My mom knows exactly how to insert the knife and twist. She goes for the kill every time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, like that whole thing of ‘why are you here with Hudson and not Bryce?’ She’s either clueless or cruel. And I know she’s not clueless.”

We had just returned to civilization, marked by the presence of asphalt roads beneath the tires. The bumpy dirt road, which had provided some distraction—at least somewhat dulled the sharp edge of emotion—was behind us. We hummed along the blacktop allowing everything to come into sharp focus. The anger and pain were tangible. They were like things that traveled with us, riding in the backseat of the car.

“Let me ask you a question and don’t get mad at me for asking,” I said.

I was feeling brave. Anger and pain egged me on from behind.

“What?”

“If we’re leaving right after graduation . . . if we’re going to travel to Europe and everywhere else and maybe never come back . . . why do you care what Bryce thinks? Why are you even with him anymore?”

There. I’d said it. I’d been wanting to say it ever since the day she asked me to travel with her. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. Her mouth dropped open and then she closed it. Then it dropped open again and closed again.

“Do you love him?” I asked at last. “Are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love with him,” she shook her tousled head. “But yes, I love him.”

Why did I give her the choice of loving and being in love? One and the same. A cop out.

“I guess I just don’t understand that. I mean . . . what does he give you? What do you get out of the relationship? He goes off with his friends and family and doesn’t invite you to come along. He doesn’t offer to take you to see your mother. You don’t have any of the same interests. He doesn’t want the same future as you. What’s the attraction?”

“The way things are between me and him, it’s not what I want. If I could change him I would. But it doesn’t work that way, Hudson. You don’t understand because you’ve never been in love before.”

“I thought you said you weren’t in love with him.”

“You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you mean.”

We were at the entrance to the highway where I could bump up my speed. Instead I pulled off to the shoulder. The car behind us honked and swerved to avoid me. As he passed us, the driver raised his middle finger just in case we didn’t get the message. Anger and hurt were still there. Laughing at me. Throwing wadded-up paper balls at the back of my head. They were making me crazy.

“What’re you doing?” Alana’s voice was pitched with alarm. “You can’t stop on a freeway on-ramp.”

“You think I’ve never been in love?” I dared her. “Well, I have. I’m in love with you, Alana. How have you not seen it? How could you possibly not know? You, who are supposed to be so insightful and caring.”

This wasn’t the way I wanted it to happen. I had visions of holding hands in the moonlight. A first kiss, where she pressed her lips to mine, greedy for my love. Staying up all night, declaring ourselves to each other. Not this. Not hurling my declaration of love at her like some kind of deadly weapon intended to inflict pain.

“Maybe I did know, okay, Hudson? I did know.”

“Then why didn’t you do something?” I stared furiously at the steering wheel as if it were the source of all my pain and anguish instead of the girl beside me.

“Because, as long as you didn’t say it, it wasn’t real.”

I glanced in my rearview mirror. Anger and pain were gone. Hurt and desperation had taken their place.

“So now that I’ve said it?” I asked hopefully.

“I care for you, Hudson. Deeply.”

“But you aren’t in love with me?”

“I’m not in love with you.”

“And you don’t even love me.”

“I do love you. I thought I made that clear. I care for you deeply.”

Another car pulled up behind us and honked. After a few seconds, it honked again before squeezing by us on the left.

“Alana, it doesn’t matter if you’re in love with me or not. I can love enough for both of us. I can take care of you and make sure you’ll never be unhappy again if you’ll just give me a chance. Maybe you’ll change when it’s just the two of us and we’re away from everything familiar.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she said. “I’m just worried we might say something we’ll regret, and it’ll ruin what we do have, which is a beautiful friendship.”

Her mother’s daughter. But things had already been said that could never be taken back. Our beautiful friendship was a joke. A disaster.

Who had I become, devoid of dignity and pride? I begged for any crumb she might throw my way. But to her credit, she didn’t throw crumbs or anything else. Not even an offer of gas money for the trip.

>>>

We got home after dark on Saturday, barely speaking a word to each other for hours. It was a beautiful, clear night with hot white stars punctuating the black sky. The kind of night that promised to lead to a day filled with sunshine. I dropped Alana off at her house, and we mumbled things to each other about getting together sometime soon. When I got home Mom’s car was gone, which was a good thing because I didn’t feel like explaining my early and unexpected homecoming. I went in my room and dialed Fritzy’s number.

“I’m back.”

“How was your weekend?”

“Shitty.”

“Told ya.”

“Don’t start. Are you still going to the retreat tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I still invited?”

“Of course.”

“See you tomorrow morning then.”