Finding Home

by Sarah Collins

  It’s not always easy, but looking at the landscape in front of her—it’s always worth it.

  Something buzzes at her side. She pats her pockets, finding her phone tucked away in one. Dylan furrows her brow as she pulls it out. No one really contacts her anymore. Unless—

  Naomi.

  A grin overtakes her. Maybe, just maybe…

  “Yes,” she exclaims, opening her phone to a text message from Naomi.

  I know this is short notice, it says, but would you like to hang out tomorrow? Maybe you can tell me more about van life? ;)

  Dylan nods to herself. It feels as though a wave of bliss has washed over her, infiltrating her very core. She hasn’t been interested in anyone in a long, long time. Maybe this will shape up to be something worth pursuing.

  That sounds great. I’d love to, she types out.

  It fails to send.

  “Dammit,” she exclaims. No service. She holds her phone in the air, on tip toes, to hopefully get at least one bar. Nothing. That’s what she gets for refusing to upgrade her phone since she graduated college and started her road life.

  “Come onnnn,” she urges. A minute goes by. Two. Then, finally: “Yes!”

  She lowers down to her toes and rushes out of the water to put her shoes on. If Naomi texts back, she at least wants to have enough service to receive it.

  Her heart quickens as she gets lost in her own mind. The last time she was even close to having a real girlfriend was all the way back in her junior year of college. There have been a lot of flings, a lot of sex, but never anything serious. It’s not that Dylan isn’t smart or attractive or at least halfway funny; she just never wanted to bend to the whims of another person at the cost of her own freedom.

  Now, despite the fact she’s getting about a mile ahead of herself, she wouldn’t mind having someone to share life with. Compromising just doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world anymore. Maybe, just maybe, Naomi could be that person for her as crazy as that sounds after only talking to her for less than an hour.

  Halfway back to her van, she feels the phone go off again in her hand.

  Pick me up at six?

  Dylan smiles to herself. Tell me where, and I’ll be there.

  She finds it hard to contain her giddiness. Making friends on the road is hard; making lovers feels even harder. She never stays in on place long enough to know someone as well as she knows the land. That makes for very few long-term friendships and, due to her need to attach to those she’s screwing, also makes it hard to find someone she’s interested enough in to sleep with.

  When she meets up with her van-dwelling friends every few months, she generally gets one good orgasm in thanks to her long-term fuck buddy. She’s known Julienne since elementary school, but they both know that aspect of their friendship can only be temporary. And definitely not as fulfilling as someone she’s actually interested in. It’s been a long ass time since she’s found anyone like that.

  Dylan climbs into her van and makes herself comfortable in bed. The sun sets in the distance, casting a light glow through the windows. She would pack her stuff up and go camping by the water, but now she’s too hyped to do anything but think about her upcoming date with a very beautiful, very interesting woman tomorrow night.

  Chapter 3

  Dylan rubs her hands down the front of her pants. She decided to keep it simple: jeans, white v-neck, and brown boots. The van doesn’t have much space for extras, so her wardrobe greatly dwindled in the past few years. She also doesn’t have a mirror besides the rearview, which is barely big enough to check her teeth after each meal. So, despite the struggles of dressing on the road, she hopes she still looks halfway presentable.

  She pulls the van to a stop right outside a tall brick apartment building at exactly 6:03 pm. It’s been a while since she’s dipped her toe into the dating pool, but she tried not to look too eager on their first date by showing up early. Unfortunately (or fortunately, really), she couldn’t wait to leave any longer and practically showed up right on time.

  Naomi asked her to text instead of buzz, so she pulls out her phone and sends a simple I’m here before getting out to lean against the front of her home-slash-van. She still has a hard time believing she got such a great deal on her new home—a thousand dollars even. Granted, it was covered in rust and orange paint, the tires were flat, the engine couldn’t pull the car faster than she could walk, and there were a few holes in the floorboard amongst other things. It took her almost five months to finish it up via Youtube tutorials and DIY articles, but when she finished—it was more than she ever hoped it could be.

  Barely two minutes go by before Naomi steps out of the building. Dylan sucks in a breath. Naomi was attractive before, even when she was just wearing comfortable day clothes. But now, even in the dimming light of evening, she looks unbelievable.

  Naomi’s dark hair hits mid-shoulder, wavy and free. She has on little makeup, but it accentuates her large, brown eyes perfectly. She wears a flowy, lightweight dress perfect for springtime, and Dylan just cannot stop looking at those legs. God, those legs could make someone break their neck trying to catch a glimpse.

  She feels a familiar jolt of electricity run through her torso. It has either been an extremely long time, or this woman is just extremely sexy. Dylan suspects the latter.

  “Hey, Dyl,” the woman greets, smiling enough to show a dimple Dylan hasn’t noticed before.

  “I haven’t been called Dyl in a long time,” she says, returning the grin. She notes how Naomi smells light and outdoorsy, like lavender and honeysuckle wafting in the wind.

  “It suits you.” Naomi replies. An awkward beat passes, woman standing in front of woman. “Well, do you wanna get going?”

  “Sure,” she says. She scratches her neck. “But, ah, where are we going exactly?”

  “Oh. Right.” Naomi laughs lightly. “I was thinking we could grab a bite to eat and go for a walk around town. I know this really great Mexican restaurant down the road with amazing margaritas if you want to try that.”

  Dylan considers it. It’s rare for her to go out to eat, with diners or fast food maxing out her daily food budget. She thinks about all the fresh food and beer in her mini-fridge, the awesome views she’s discovered in her barely two days here…

  “I have another idea,” Dylan suggests. “If you really want to learn about van life.”

  Naomi’s smile could light up the whole street. “I would love that.”

  Minutes later, they’re chugging down the interstate as fast as the heavy van can take them. Granted, that’s still about five miles under speed limit, but the city still quickly gives way to unadulterated views of the gorgeous landscape. The sun barely peeks over the hills and nearly-mountains, but Dylan knows they’ll still make it in time to see sunset.

  Naomi, sitting primly in the passenger seat, looks here and there, taking everything in. Her eyes land on a little picture attached to the sun visor above her.

  “Aw, he’s cute.” She takes the photo in her hand. “What’s his name?”

  Dylan glances over. Her old, black lab looks back at her from the picture. His neon yellow bandana had been a gift from some of the first travellers she ever met on the road. He wore it everywhere; it now hangs permanently from her rearview mirror.

  ”That’s Davie,” she answers. “Probably just about the best dog in the world if I say so myself.”

  “Dylan and Davie,” Naomi repeats. “That’s adorable.”

  She grins. “Yeah, I miss him.”

  “I suppose it would be hard to take a dog on the road,” Naomi replies, misunderstanding. “Is he staying with someone?”

  “Nah,” Dylan clears her throat. “He passed last year. Best little road buddy I’ve ever had. Well, the only one really.”

  Naomi’s face crumples sadly. “I’m so sorry. That must be hard.”

  She nods. “Yeah. I still can’t bring myself to get another. Not yet.”

  Slowly, god so slowly that Dylan�
��s skin pricks in anticipation, Naomi reaches over. She lightly presses her hand against Dylan’s bare arm. “You’ll know when the time is right.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself.” Dylan plasters on a smile now, eager to change the topic. “But enough about me. What kind of photography do you do?”

  Naomi leans back against the plush seat, getting more comfortable the longer they are together. “Mostly nature, though I do have a few side hustles to bring in some extra money.”

  “Like what?”

  The other woman smiles slyly. “I don’t know…maybe like taking pictures of beautiful women and their vans.”

  Dylan feels her face turn blood red. She’s never been great at hiding her emotions; they’re always plastered on her face for the world to see. Luckily, she has managed to practice her pick-up lines with all this time alone on the road (or so she thinks).

  “Look who’s talking,” she teases. Daring to look from the road for a prolonged second, she takes in the soft edges of Naomi’s face, full lips, round eyes dark enough to blend in with the pupils. “Except I guess you don’t have a van.”

  “Not yet,” Naomi answers. “Hopefully I save enough in the next few years to travel in the summer or something. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to afford it full-time.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” she says. “It gets easier as you learn the ropes.”

  “How do you make money? If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “Not at all.” Dylan takes the exit towards the park she stayed at yesterday. “I mainly work for a few months here and there to save up enough for the next adventure. Waitressing, babysitting, sometimes retail. Isn’t very lucrative work, but it’s sustainable. For me, anyway.”

  “Whatever works.” Naomi sighs. “I can’t wait until I’m able to break free from society like that.”

  “Best choice I ever made,” she answers, and she means it.

  Of course, it can be lonely on the road alone. Sometimes her van breaks down and she has to spend countless hours on Youtube trying to figure out how to fix it. She’s been caught in storms bad enough to shake her van and blow her solar panels off the roof. Once, a couple tried to break in while she was sleeping in the back. Things aren’t always easy, but the freedom she feels is always worth it.

  The silence that settles over them is easy. Naomi looks around the front of the van, seemingly impressed with the amount of leg room she has.

  “Tell me a little about yourself,” Dylan finally says, breaking the silence. “Family, college, work…I oughta know a little bit about the strange woman sitting in my home.”

  They share a small laugh.

  “Well,” Naomi starts, “I graduated college a semester ago. Majored in photography against the wishes of everyone I know. My family lives in Boise—mom, dad, three sisters. I’m the cutest of course,” she jokes, winking at Dylan. “I moved to Twin Falls right after graduation for freelance work at the local newspaper. It was hard being away from everyone at first, but now I can go out and do what I want, whenever I want.”

  “Wonderful feeling isn’t it?”

  Naomi nods. “The best. But what about you? I feel like I should know something about the strange woman smuggling me to a secret location.”

  “Touche,” Dylan responds. “For starters, I graduated a couple of years ago from Berkeley—“

  “Wow,” Naomi interrupts. “I didn’t know you were such a smarty.”

  Dylan blushes. “I wouldn’t call myself a smarty, but I would say very fortunate.” She shrugs. “My mom works there, so you could say I had a little bit of an educational edge.”

  “I’m sure that helps,” Naomi says, “But don’t sell yourself short. It still took a lot of brains to graduate. You did that all on your own.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Dylan acquiesces. She doesn’t mention how hard it really was to get accepted, not yet anyway. “And it was a great school. I learned a lot about myself—more specifically, I learned that I didn’t want to get stuck in the same routines as everyone else. There was so much pressure and stress to be so… perfect.” She shrugs. “I wasn’t ready for that yet. So I saved up over the summer, nabbed this awesome van from an old neighbor, fixed it up, and here I am.”

  Once they reach the park, Dylan drives them onto an old trail she found hidden away behind a pillar of tall rocks. It’s easy enough to drive down, but Naomi still squeals in fearful delight as they coast over the rocks and natural potholes. Dylan dares to steal a peek, and catches Naomi with the purest smile she’s ever seen.

  They drive back the length of the trail, ending at an azure blue lake with round stones peppered around the edges. The sun slowly drops in the background, creating the most brilliant pink and orange backdrop for their excursion.

  Naomi gasps. “Do you get to see this all the time?”

  “Yeah,” Dylan grins. “It’s one of the best parts of every day. Well, this and sunrise.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to see that.”

  Dylan isn’t sure if she means her in the morning, or sometime later when she’s off travelling by herself. For now, she lets it go.

  “So…are you ready for the real van experience?” Dylan, hunched, stands from her seat and walks to the back portion of the van. “We have two luxurious food options to choose from tonight: breakfast or dinner.”

  “Hmm,” Naomi hums. “I’m feeling breakfast. What about you?”

  She grins. “That’s my kind of girl. Hope you like your eggs over easy, though. It’s all I know how to cook.”

  “Why don’t you let me try?” Naomi scrambles to the back and flashes a perfect smile. “You know, so I can really get submerged in all that is the unobtainable van life you live.”

  Dylan’s eyebrows shoot up. This is 100x better than she expected things to unfold. Beautiful, in charge, and offers to cook? She steps back from her small one-burner stovetop. “By all means, be my guest.”

  She watches Naomi rummage through the small cabinets and built-in shelves for pans and spices. She chooses things Dylan never would’ve guessed to combine, but it looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Dylan points her in the direction of the pots and spatulas, but otherwise lets her conjure up a meal on her own.

  Dylan steps out the large side door and begins setting up a place to eat. She unfolds a cushioned tarp for the damp ground, pops open a table meant for two, and places folding chairs at either side. She even lights a small candle she found in the glovebox for good measure. It’s not like she does that often anyway. She steps back to admire her handiwork. They’re right on the pebbled edge of the water; the perfect front-row seat for sunset. It almost makes up for how ill-prepared she is for entertaining a guest tonight.

  One of the best things about vanlife is that it doesn’t take much time to find things, and it takes even less to cook a small meal for two people. Before Dylan knows it, Naomi is serving up a batch of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a small side of pan-seared potato hash.

  “Wow,” Dylan exclaims, taking her plate as Naomi steps from the van. “I can’t even make something like this—and I live here!”

  Naomi blushes barely enough to be noticed. “I guess it just takes a special touch.”

  Dylan catches onto the obvious innuendo, but leaves it hanging out there unsure of how to react.

  They sit at the tiny table, amid the sounds of water lapping at the shore and insects chirping away in the background. Dylan takes a bite of the hash, a mixture of fresh red potatoes, bell peppers, onion, and a slight sprinkle of cheese. It practically melts in her mouth despite the heat of it.

  “Wow,” she almost moans. “I didn’t know you were a chef.”

  “It’s a gift,” Naomi shrugs playfully. She speaks in between bites of her food. “My mom is a great cook. Taught me most of what I know, actually. Dad on the other hand…not so much.”

  “What do they do? Your parents, I mean.”

  “My mom stayed at home taking care of us,” Naomi repl
ies. “I’m thankful for it now, but I always knew that’s not the life I wanted for myself. Dad owns an auto-repair shop, but that’s a pretty recent thing. Growing up, he just worked at different repair places around town trying to afford his ever-growing family.”

  Dylan thinks back to her own childhood. Her mother worked as a high-end professor for as long as she can remember. Wasn’t the most lucrative job, but they never hurt for money because of it. Her father, on the other hand, left them when she was three. She tried finding him once, after a massive breakdown on her fourteenth birthday, but what she found didn’t really make her want to discover more.

  Dylan takes a drink of her canned beer. “What about your sisters?”

  “Julie, the baby, is about to go off to college in Washington,” Naomi starts, smiling. “I’m second youngest after her. Crystal started med school last year, and she’s doing great. And then there’s the oldest, Amelia.”

  “Uh oh,” she responds, smiling.

  “Uh oh is right,” Naomi says. “She’s the oldest and most unstable. I can’t remember the last time she stayed out of rehab or prison for more than a month.”

  “Oh wow,” she utters. Without even knowing it, she reaches across and touches Naomi’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Naomi pushes a few potatoes around on her plate. “Sad as it is to say, we’re all used to it by now. We try as hard as we can, but it’s like she doesn’t want to be saved.”

  Dylan nods silently. There’s nothing she can contribute that’ll do the situation justice. She’s never experienced anything like that, at least not firsthand. Her dad probably dabbled in and out of it due to his addictions she discovered while looking for him, but she doesn’t know for sure. It was enough to get her hooked on prison shows and documentaries, though. Hopefully that’s as close to it as she’ll ever get.

  “Oh well,” Naomi brushes off. “It is what it is. How was dinner? Well, breakfast. “