The Road to Amazing

by Brent Hartinger

  Since then, I've watched every episode at least five times. I've watched your web series too, a bunch of times.

  This is where I should probably tell you I'm not obsessed with you, but I'm not sure I can. I am obsessed with you, but I think it's in a good way. You changed my life.

  I've been meaning to write to you for a while now, but it's taken me a while to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. For a long time, even I didn't understand what I was feeling.

  Discovering you has made me feel like a real person for the first time in my life. I said before that I like to watch TV and movies, and play video games, and I do, but part of me wonders if I only started doing those things because I didn't have anything else to do. Like I said, I didn't feel like a person. It never really occurred to me that I could do the things that other people did. I was a burn survivor, people stared at me, so I decided to watch TV and play video games, because it was so much simpler than anything else.

  Seeing you, that started to change. It's partly that your character is out there in the world, dealing with the world. My favorite episode is "No One Wears Tighty-Whities," the one where Mike realizes you eat most of your meals in your dorm room because every time you go to the cafeteria, people stare at you. But when he encourages you to face your fears, that makes things worse. Then he shows you that you can't change that people stare at you, so you have to just own it and move on. After a while, people get bored and move on too, even when Mike wears tighty-whities on the outside of his pants.

  Basically, that episode is me, except I never had a friend like Mike, so I never went to the cafeteria.

  But it's not just the character on the show that has changed me. It's you. I know there's a real actor playing that character, that you're out there in the world, not caring if people stare. If you're a real person, then I can be a real person too.

  Ordinarily after watching a TV show, I just watch more TV, or I go to bed. Same thing for the Internet. I read something, then I read something else.

  But after watching you on TV, or reading an article about you, I don't want to stay inside. I want to go out in the world, I want to meet people. I don't care what people say about me now. I'm not going to let them make the decision about what I get to do.

  I said before that I didn't have a Mike in my life, someone encouraging me to eat in the cafeteria, but I do now. It's you. I feel sort of stupid that it took me this long in life to realize how much I was letting other people control me and my decisions, but I'm not anymore.

  I don't know what I'm going to do with my life now, but for the first time, I'm asking the question. I've got a whole bunch of ideas, but this email has already gone on too long, so I won't bore you with all that.

  I'm sure you get a whole bunch of emails like this, with lots of people thanking you for the difference you've made in their lives. But just in case you don't, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  Kyle Simon

  P.S. I'm attaching a photo of myself, and I'm sure you know this, but that's a really big deal. For one thing, I've always hated having my picture taken. After the age of five, I think there may be ten pictures of me in my whole life. For another thing, I have never given my photo to anyone ever. You are the first.

  When I finished the email, I was crying too. I looked at the photo of Kyle, and his scars were a little worse than I expected. He was staring at the camera with an expression that was somehow perfect for his letter, neither happy nor sad — an exact balance between the two.

  "I'm such an idiot," Otto said, wiping his eyes.

  "No," I said.

  "I am! All the things I said to you yesterday about how hard my life has been? So what if people have said mean things online? I'd put up with all that stuff ten times over for an email like this."

  I nodded. Truthfully, I felt like an idiot too. The day before, I'd been going on and on with Otto about how the world was a horrible place, about how people could be so awful. That was obviously all true, but it was only part of the picture. The world was also sometimes a really beautiful place. The two things were complete opposites, but somehow they were both absolutely true. Did the bad outweigh the good? Was there more bad than good in the world? Maybe, but it was exactly like Otto said: that didn't matter, because, when all was said and done, the good was so much more powerful than the bad. Who wouldn't put up with a whole boatload of shit in order to get an email as great as the one Otto had received? Like all of us, Otto had forgotten that for a while, and I had too.

  Otto lowered his phone. "Sorry, I'll get back to work."

  "Damn right you will," I said, "the second you finish writing that guy back."

  * * *

  So the windstorm raged. It was actually pretty awesome, especially since the Amazing Inn was completely surrounded by trees and looked out over the water. The branches of the fir trees shook and whipped, and we could hear needles and smaller branches hitting the roof and windows. Meanwhile, the water churned and swirled, with whorls and white caps.

  But it wasn't one of those storms where you stand at the window and think, "Wow, just how bad is this going to get?" It was bad — make no mistake — but the weather report really had gotten it right once again. There were still even a few boats out on the water.

  As for the house, it was like the opposite of a snow globe: all around us outside, everything was wild and churning, but inside everything was peaceful and calm, a little Bavarian village cheerfully preparing for the upcoming festivities. We had a strict time-limit — the wedding was at three — but everything was proceeding right on schedule.

  Then Min came into the kitchen and stood there for a second, not saying anything. Somehow I knew she had something to tell me.

  "What?" I said, instantly wary.

  "They had to close the ferries due to the storm," she said.

  "What?" I said. "But the storm isn't that bad."

  "I should have known," Min said. "I guess they always close the ferries during high winds. They can't maneuver the boats into the dock. I didn't think."

  I didn't know what to say. Now my head was the snow globe — the ordinary kind, with all my thoughts whirling around inside.

  "Do they know when the ferries will start up again?" I asked.

  "Not until the winds die down more," she said. "But there's another problem..."

  "Just say it," I said.

  "Well, the ferries have been stopped for hours now, and it's Sunday, so there's already a big back-up of cars who need to get back on the island."

  "How big a back-up?"

  She looked like she wanted to sugarcoat it somehow, but she didn't: "At least four hours."

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  "So that's it," Kevin said. "The wedding's off."

  He was standing in the kitchen with us, listening to Min explain that thing about the ferries. He'd been holding it together all morning, acting perfectly calm, but the camel's back had finally broken. Now his expression was dark and brooding. Even so, his voice was surprisingly calm.

  No one in the room said anything. They just watched Kevin and me — mostly me. I think they were waiting to see what I said, if I agreed with Kevin or not. Out on the deck, the vinyl cover to the barbecue flapped in the wind. Meanwhile, in my pocket, my phone vibrated — someone had texted me. I knew without looking that it was someone coming to the wedding, that they now knew that the ferry had stopped because of the windstorm and they wanted some guidance on how to react. In other words, was the wedding canceled?

  Was it canceled? Kevin had already spoken — we all knew exactly what he thought — but now I guess everyone was waiting on me to confirm or deny it. To make a final decision.

  "Really?" I said at last, quietly. "It doesn't have to be canceled. Does it?"

  I looked around the room, at Gunnar, Otto, and Vernie, even Ruby and Nate. They all made eye contact with me, but never for long. They would look between me and Kevin, then down at the counter. I could see them thinking, saw the words on the tips of their
tongues, but they hesitated. I think they all sort of sensed that this was something Kevin and I needed to decide for ourselves, and they didn't want to interfere.

  Min, of course, was making eye contact with me, staring outright. She had an opinion too, something she thought was obvious, but it wasn't obvious to me. I'd already said we should go through with the wedding. What else did she want me to say?

  "The wedding is supposed to start in an hour," Kevin said. "Even if we delay it another hour, we can't ask everyone to wait in the ferry line for four hours."

  I thought about this. "The windstorm can't last forever," I said. "Once it stops, once the ferry starts running again, we have everyone park on the other side of the water, then take the ferry over here as passengers. We can all run shuttles, picking people up at the ferry dock in our cars and then driving them here."

  Min relaxed a little, not quite nodding. Was that the problem — that I'd sounded so tentative before?

  Everyone's eyes flicked toward Kevin, who pondered my words. It seemed to me like a pretty good plan.

  "There are sixty-one guests coming," he said at last, "and the ferry dock is at least a half-hour drive from here. We don't have enough cars. It would take all afternoon. And besides, we don't know how long it'll be before the ferry starts up again."

  He wasn't wrong about any of this. Now everyone looked back at me — including Kevin.

  This annoyed me a little, being put on the spot. Why was it suddenly my responsibility to figure out a way to make the wedding work? Did Kevin not want to get married? And why did Kevin have the two of us discussing this in front of all our friends? Why hadn't we gone off into the master bedroom again? Our friends were great and supportive, and Kevin and I didn't have any secrets from them, but this was for the two of us to decide. As it was, we were clearly making them uncomfortable.

  The silence stretched on and on, and I felt my phone vibrate again. We really did need to make a decision, if only so the people on the mainland would know what to do.

  So I said, "Okay, I guess the wedding's canceled."

  The second I said this, I thought, Wait! What about Uber? We could wait for the storm to stop, have the guests take the ferry over as passengers, but then have them take Uber or Lyft up the island to the house. But even as I thought this, I realized the whole plan was getting pretty damn complicated, especially since we'd have to communicate it via email and text to a bunch of old people who'd probably never taken Uber before.

  My pocket vibrated one more time, but in the kitchen no one moved. No one was watching me now, not even to look away when I tried to make eye contact. Min looked down at the ground. This was actually worse than if they'd all been staring at me with sad, pitying eyes.

  I felt like I'd failed this huge test. Seriously, it was like some evil wizard had forced me to choose between two doors, with a hot knight behind one door and a fire-breathing dragon behind the other, and I'd chosen the dragon.

  Actually, this was even worse than choosing the fire-breathing dragon, because that would have been random chance — that wouldn't have had anything to do with me. This felt like it did, like I'd had an actual choice in the matter, but I'd somehow made the wrong one. I could feel the disappointment coming off my friends in waves.

  But I hadn't made the wrong choice. Had I? For one thing, it seemed to be what Kevin wanted. And, I mean, it was wrong to ask your guests to do this long list of complicated things to get to your wedding. Wasn't it?

  The wind blew again, and more pine needles skittered on the deck. The cover on the barbecue kept flapping.

  Kevin turned to go.

  "Kevin?" I said, but he didn't stop. He left the room like water slipping down a drain.

  Finally, I met someone else's gaze. It was Gunnar.

  "I guess this is one thing that even you can't help us with," I said, but he didn't say anything back, because there wasn't anything he could say.

  * * *

  I expected to find Kevin in the master bedroom (or en-suite bathroom), but he wasn't there. I looked around the rest of the house too, but I couldn't find him anywhere. Had he left? Where would he possibly go in the middle of a windstorm? I stepped out onto the front porch to see if he'd taken the car, but it was still parked in the lot.

  The wind was crazy. The trees creaked and groaned, their branches waving around me like those big inflatable tubes you see at used car lots. It wasn't raining, but pine needles and little branches swirled all around, finally fluttering to the ground, making quiet little clicks when they landed. The air was full of the smell of pine and pitch — not surprising given all the branches and needles that had been ripped from the trees.

  My phone was still vibrating off and on, but I couldn't deal with all that right now, so I flicked it off for the time being.

  I looked out across the yard again. Through the swirl of the wind, I saw an opening in the trees — the road that went off to Amazing. At first I didn't think anything about it.

  Then I thought, Could Kevin have gone there? But why?

  I stepped back in the house and looked in the closet, and saw his jacket was gone. I put my jacket on too, then stepped outside. I didn't tell anyone where I was going, or even that I was leaving.

  I started out across the yard. The needles still swirled around me, and the trees groaned, but I kept walking. The air was warmer than I expected, and the wind was somehow subtle too. It was like I could feel every little current on my skin.

  I reached the parking lot of the Amazing Inn. There had been a layer of leaves and pine needles before, but it was so much thicker now, almost like an actual carpet. More needles whirled down around me, like snow. They felt slick under my tennis shoes.

  I headed across the parking lot to the opening in the trees, the start of the road to Amazing, but everything was so thick on the ground now that I couldn't see the actual dirt at all. If I hadn't seen it before, I might not have known it was even a road.

  In front of me, the trees were still swaying, their branches waving. But were they waving me forward or warning me to go back? I didn't know. Was Kevin even here? There weren't any footprints in the pine needles. And what was I going to say to him if I found him? I didn't know those things either.

  I started down the road. All around me, the pine needles clicked and clacked, and the trees groaned.

  We're really canceling the wedding, I thought.

  Well, what choice did we have? We didn't have any realistic way to get the guests here. And what was a wedding without guests?

  How did that make me feel? Weirdly, I couldn't tell. It was like I was a fire, and my emotions were smoke, and the wind was whipping them away before I even had a chance to feel them. It was a bad thing that the wedding was being canceled, I knew that much.

  Around me, the forest looked different than it had before. The first time I'd been here, everything had been so still. I said it had felt like the forest was holding its breath in anticipation of what was going to happen next.

  It wasn't holding its breath anymore. Now it was breathing in great big heaves, right in my face, and all around me too, making everything move that could move. Now it felt like the whole forest was in flux, like anything could happen, anything was possible.

  What did it mean if Kevin and I didn't get married? Would we do it later? Try it again another weekend with our friends in the spring? But how would we afford it? And would anyone want to go through all this again? Or maybe Kevin would take this as some kind of sign, and we'd end up not getting married at all. But what would that mean? Would Kevin want to stay together if we weren't married? Everything was moving around me, and nothing was clear.

  Now the wind shrieked through the trees, and something thrummed off in the distance — the roar of the storm overhead, maybe. A big branch crashed into the ferns to one side. I know I said before that the windstorm wasn't supposed to be strong enough to topple actual trees, but what the hell did I know? I was starting to think I'd made a mistake coming out here.
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br />   I thought about going back to the house, but I was pretty sure Kevin had come this way before me, and I needed to talk to him, even if I still didn't know what I was going to say. So I trudged forward, down the hill, the air still smelling so strongly of pine, my feet slipping on the slick carpet of needles.

  Everything looked so different. Could I be lost? Had I accidentally gone down the wrong road, or not gone down a road at all? Maybe I'd wandered from the road somewhere along the way. Before, when everything was still and holding its breath, it had been possible to see through the forest, but now everything was obscured by the falling needles and swaying branches.

  But no, before long I realized I'd come to the end of the road after all, to the little apron of land around the cove, the former location of the town of Amazing. I spotted the tops of the rocky ruins poking up from out of the rustling ferns. Even so, everything looked so different in the wind.

  I looked up at the promontory to the left of the cove, the giant crag that faced the water. Through the wind and the needles, I saw someone standing at the top of the rock.

  Kevin. He'd come to Amazing after all. I liked that I'd been able to predict it, like I'd been able to predict all the things he'd say in that bachelor party game the night before. I might have been a shitty amateur detective overall, but at least when it came to Kevin, Veronica Mars had nothing on me.

  He was looking away, staring out over at the water.

  There was something strange about him, something that had drawn my eyes to him even through the storm, and it took me a second to realize what it was.

  All around him, everything moved: the ferns and plants and tree branches — even the tree trunks were swaying against the sky, a lot more than I would have expected. But Kevin wasn't moving at all. He stood there, legs spread, braced against the ground. He was the one solid thing in a never-ending wash of movement.