AVA TOOK in her hazy image in the bathroom mirror. It wasn’t really a mirror, but more like a polished piece of metal that could stand up to the rigors of camp life.
She smoothed her hands over the wavy strands of her hair. There was no relaxer in the world that could have stood up to road trip life. She considered wrestling with the hair dryer she’d brought to get her hair straight, but rejected the idea. There was no point. With a resigned sigh, she dug into her cosmetic bag and found two hair ties and a comb. She parted her hair and wove the strands, creating two braids. When she finished, she turned her head from side to side.
“I look like I’m back in middle school,” she muttered to herself.
Her mother would have a fit if she saw her daughter like this. Ron and Loretta Jones had raised their girls in the world of the Black social elite in Los Angeles, with debutante balls, country clubs, and social clubs. They’d instilled in their daughters a belief that appearances mattered, and they had never allowed them to go out in public without hair that was perfectly straight and clothing that was immaculate. The pressure of perfection was part of the reason Ava had chosen a college on the East Coast, leaving her parents to console themselves with their other daughter, who’d attended an HBCU and joined a sorority that met their expectations.
She brushed away the hurtful memories. Right now, she wasn’t trying to impress anyone. She was on a road trip, camping, and having fun. Another thing her parents believed wasn’t acceptable. It didn’t matter what she looked like. Ava never thought of herself as being vain; her parents were the ones who put an emphasis on appearances and she no longer had a boyfriend she was trying to impress. Plus, Steve gave her the impression that he didn’t care about stuff like that.
She put her hands on the counter and peered closer at her reflection. “What are you doing?” she asked the girl in the mirror.
The real question was, why did her stomach fill with butterflies every time Steve smiled at her?
She’d seen him around campus, but they’d never socialized much outside of the classroom. Her girlfriends had been right. He was cute. Tall and lanky with dark blond hair and deep blue eyes, he reminded her of that actor, Paul Newman, from the sixties movies her mother loved to watch. Once, toward the end of freshman year, Ava had caught him watching her from across the room at a party. From the way he’d been looking at her, she’d thought he might ask her out, but he never did.
Gathering up her stuff, she navigated her way back to camp with the flashlight Steve had given her. The flashlight was just one more thoughtful gesture out of so many he’d done for her all day. A lump formed in her throat as she thought of all the little ways he’d watched out for her. Making hot chocolate, insisting on opening every door, even letting her choose what music to listen to. He’d shown more kindness in one day than Donald had in their entire relationship. The tears making her nose smart were from both anger at herself for being so blind about Donald and gratefulness for the care Steve had shown her.
“Ava? Are you okay?” He rushed to her side when she literally stumbled into camp, tripping over a root.
“Yeah.” She sniffed. “I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
“Come on, let’s get some food into you.”
When she returned from stowing her things away, Steve gestured to a log that he’d rolled over to the fire and covered with a blanket. “Have a seat and I’ll get you some dinner.”
“You don’t have to wait on me. I can help.”
He shook his head. “For the rest of the trip, sure, but you’ve had a shitty day today, so you get to be pampered.”
She accepted a plate with a hot dog and beans and gave him a grateful smile.
“Beer okay, or would you rather have a soda?” he asked.
“Beer, please.”
Balancing his plate with one hand and two beers between the fingers of his other, he joined her on the log.
“You’ve got skills,” Ava said, taking one beer.
He took a swig from his bottle. “I worked as a waiter through college.”
“Ugh, I tried waitressing freshman year. It was a disaster.”
“Did you get another job?”
“I did, at a daycare. It’s what inspired me to go into teaching. What about you? What are you going to do with your degree?”
“I’m going to work in real estate with my dad.”
“So you’re the guy I should go to when I’m ready to buy a house?”
He picked at the label of his beer bottle. “More like I’m the guy you go to if you want to finance a building. My dad has a commercial real estate company.”
Her eyes grew wide. “You’re rich, aren’t you?” she blurted out.
“Kind of, yeah.”
“But you have a job and you’re not an asshole.” Ava clapped her hand over her mouth. “That was really rude.”
Steve put his bottle down and moved his plate so he could angle himself toward her. “Not all guys…” His jaw ticked. “Not all rich White guys are like Donald.”
“I didn’t mean….” She sighed. “I get so angry when people assume things about me being Black, and I just did the same thing to you. I’m sorry.”
He put his hand over hers. “As long as you never compare me to Donald ever again, you’re forgiven.”
She turned her hand over, transforming their contact into a handshake. “Deal.”
The campfire crackled and popped as they talked about their different career goals. They cleaned up the dinner dishes together, listening to a Spandau Ballet tape while they worked. Steve had the back seat pulled down into a bed when Ava returned from one last trip to the bathrooms.
She eyed the sleeping bag and pillow. “I can’t take your sleeping bag. What are you going to sleep with?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a blanket. I’ll be fine for tonight.”
She tucked herself in while Steve grabbed his toothbrush and took his trip to the bathrooms. The curtains on the windows of the van were closed, and the light over the kitchen gave off a warm glow. It was a cozy little camper. She snuggled deeper into the sleeping bag, inhaling the faint aroma of citrus and the musk of Steve’s cologne.
The door opened, and he climbed into the van. He rubbed his hands together. “It’s cold out there. Are you going to be warm enough?”
Ava plucked at the sleeve of her sweater. “I added another layer, so I should be okay.”
Turning off the light, he hoisted himself up onto the top bunk. Ava listened to him rustle around, settling himself in. Nothing about sharing such a small space felt awkward. She snuggled deeper into the warmth of the down surrounding her. Her eyes were just drifting closed when Steve called out.
“Ava?”
She angled her head toward the platform above. “Yes.”
“I’m really glad you’re here.”
Her lips curled into a smile in the darkness. “I’m glad you found me.”
“Hey, Ava.”
“Yes?”
“Do you think if we listened to too much Wang Chung, we’d be Wang Chung-over the next day?”
Laughter bubbled up and burst out.
“Steve,” she called out when she finally got her giggles under control.
“Yes?”
“Do you think we’ll see A Flock of Seagulls on our trip?”
The whole van shook with Steve’s laughter.
“Ava?”
“Yes?”
“If you get sick on our road trip, I’ll find The Cure.”
“Steve?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t imagine going on this Journey with anyone but you.”
“Good night, Ava.”
“Good night, Steve.”