On the Way to You

by Kandi Steiner

  “Plenty of things make you happy,” Tammy said, clearly as concerned as I was about my lack of response. “You’re literally the happiest girl I know.”

  “I know. I can’t explain it. He’s… his presence is paralyzing.”

  Tammy eyed him over my shoulder just as Ray tapped the bell.

  “Order up!”

  I grabbed the plate of steak and eggs before Tammy could say anything else, making my way back to his booth.

  “Here you go,” I said, setting the plate in front of him. “Can I get you anything else right now?”

  He looked up at me, and the faintest hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

  I nodded. But I didn’t move.

  Go back to the bar, Cooper.

  “So, where ya traveling from?”

  He cut a corner off his steak, pausing to look up at me with it mounted on his fork. “Florida.”

  He popped the bite into his mouth.

  “Ah,” I said, as if it made sense or something. Nothing about him made sense. “Business or pleasure?”

  He humphed the way one would when recalling an inside joke. “Neither.”

  I watched as he dug into his egg, spilling the yolk onto his plate. The man wanted to eat in peace, I was sure of it, but I couldn’t move.

  “Well, where are you heading?”

  “Washington,” he answered easily.

  My stomach did a flip, tugging on the part of my heart tied so reverently to the dreams I’d had all my life. Washington. It was where I wanted to be, where I knew my life would really begin.

  Up until that point, he’d only made me uncomfortable — in a curious, fascinating way.

  Now, he’d made me jealous.

  “Well, that’s a long drive. Better eat up and get some energy.” I forced a smile. “Let me know if you need anything.”

  My mind raced as I allowed my body to fall back into the motions, checking on customers and delivering orders, cashing out and calling out greetings and farewells as people came and went. It was the first time in my life that it bothered me — the fact that they were coming and going, and I was staying.

  I was always staying.

  I didn’t realize I was avoiding his table until I saw he’d placed a twenty-dollar bill near the edge of it, a signal that he was ready to go. Because he would go, he would leave, and I would stay.

  Just another normal day.

  “I’ll grab your change,” I said, reaching for the twenty.

  He shook his head. “Not necessary.”

  “Thank you,” I said softly, smiling. “And, hey, have fun in Washington. It’s… that’s where I want to go. I’m saving up now. My dream school is there.” I shrugged, not sure why I was telling him. I was one-hundred percent sure he didn’t care. “Can’t wait for an October where I don’t sweat,” I added with a chuckle.

  I lifted my eyes to his, ready to walk back to the bar and leave him be, but he stopped me short.

  “Want to come?”

  I balked. “Excuse me?”

  “To Washington. Do you want to come with me?”

  For a moment, I just stared at him, the way I imagined I’d stare at a naked man running down the street or someone asking me to loan them a million dollars.

  And then I laughed.

  “Are you crazy? I can’t just go with you,” I said, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your name. You could be a serial killer.”

  He watched me, those damn lines forming between his brows, and then he shrugged.

  “Okay.”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin before dropping it onto his plate as he stood. My heart was in my throat again, because when he wasn’t sitting in a booth, he towered over me. He was at least six feet of lean muscle and hard edges, and he shoved the sleeves of his sweater up his arms a bit more, eyes catching mine as he stepped into my space.

  “You never answered my question.”

  I swallowed, body trapped in a strange limbo, torn between leaning into him and running as far as I could in the opposite direction.

  “What makes you happy?”

  My books, my dog, yoga, the way the sun always manages to come back, no matter how dark the storm.

  I opened my mouth, ready to answer this time, since I’d run over the responses a thousand times in my head at this point, but he turned before I could, leaving me standing there with a list of things that made me happy and a heart that whispered with every beat that the list was a lie.

  I didn’t move from the booth until the front door closed behind him, the echo of the little bell ringing in my ears as I silently opened the register and deposited his twenty, counting out the change and dropping it in the tip jar Tammy and I would split at the end of our shift.

  “What was that about?” Tammy asked, dropping a pile of dirty dishes into the large bucket we took turns carrying into the back. “I saw him standing all close to you and then he walked away and you just stood there like you’d seen a ghost.”

  “He asked me to go with him.”

  “What?!”

  I nodded, arms feeling foreign as I grabbed a wash cloth and wiped down the bar. “He’s going to Washington. I told him that’s where my dream school is. And he asked if I wanted to go with him.”

  “Oh, my God!”

  “Yeah.”

  Tammy stood with her hands hooked on her hips, shaking her head frantically before she threw her arms up. “Well, you have to go! What are you still doing here?!”

  I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Oh, yeah, Tammy. Let me just go jump into a car with a random guy and let him drive me across the country.”

  “Um, yes. Do that. Go. Now.” She stole the rag from my hands, shoving me toward the door.

  “Tammy!” I wriggled out of her grasp. “That would be insane. And dangerous. He could kill me!”

  “Oh, yeah, because he really looks like the murderer type.”

  “They don’t exactly have a specific look,” I deadpanned.

  She sighed, gripping my arms in her weathered hands. “Listen to me, Cooper. You have been working at this diner since the day you turned sixteen, and saving to move to Washington since that very day, too. Now, here you are, twenty years old, still dying to get out of Mobile and still way too smart to waste your life ‘saving’ and never doing.” Tammy paused, her eyes searching mine. “You’re stuck, baby girl. And that’s okay, we’ve all been stuck a time or two before. But this is it, your chance to pull your feet from the muck of Mobile and that awful place you’ve called home for way too long.”

  I frowned, my heart sinking with her words. It was true, I was stuck, but this wasn’t a part of my plan. He wasn’t a part of my plan.

  “I… I don’t have enough yet.”

  “Yes, you do,” she said, reaching both fists into the tip jar and pulling every single dollar out of it. She wadded it up and shoved it in my front apron pocket. “This should help, and last week’s paycheck hit our accounts this morning. If you run out of cash along the way or need help once you’re in Seattle, just call me. I’m serious.” She shook her head, a crazed smile on her face. “I mean, what do I honestly spend my money on anyway other than scratch-off tickets?”

  My hands were clammy, and I wrung them together, still shaking my head. “I don’t even know if I got in.”

  “You’ll get in. If not this semester, then next, and you know it.”

  “What if he kidnaps me?!” I whisper-yelled.

  At that, Tammy paused, like she’d just realized she was stuffing me into a car with a stranger. Her eyes shot up to the door before finding mine again. “Look, I know it’s a little crazy. It’s a little scary. In fact, I think this is why I never had kids because encouraging you to do this isn’t very motherly or whatever. But, Cooper, remember what I said this morning?” Her eyes lit up again. “I could feel it. I knew something big was going to happen, and this is it.”

  “M
e getting kidnapped by a strange boy was the good feeling you had?”

  “You’re not getting kidnapped, you’re getting a free ride to a new life. Give me your phone.”

  I couldn’t do anything in that moment but stare at her.

  “Phone.” She said with a snap of her fingers. She snatched the device from my hands as soon as I numbly pulled it from my pocket, and then she was tapping around on the screen. “There. I shared your location with both me and Lily. I’ll keep an eye on you the whole time. And you call me every morning and every night to check in, okay?”

  “What about Wyatt? I can’t just leave him short-staffed.”

  “Don’t worry about this place.” She waved her hand. “We’ll manage.”

  “And my parents—“

  “Are awful people who have always treated you like a mistake and a regret instead of a human.”

  My throat was tight with the air I couldn’t inhale fully, heart like a war drum under my ribs. “I can’t… I can’t do this. I—“

  “Yes, you can. He has a car. He’s gorgeous, in case you didn’t notice. And he’s a free ticket to the place you’ve always wanted to go. Cooper,” she said my name to call my attention back to her, hands on my arms again as she leveled her face with mine. “You are dying in this town. Not your body, but your soul.” Her eyes pleaded with mine like she knew from experience. “Life isn’t supposed to be safe,” she added with a laugh. “If it was, they wouldn’t call it living. They’d just call it existing. And you’ve existed long enough, baby girl. It’s time to live.”

  My eyes darted back and forth between hers, brain warring with my soul.

  Be safe.

  Take a chance.

  This is crazy.

  This could be fun.

  You could die.

  You could finally live.

  You don’t even know him.

  You want to.

  Leaving Alabama is scary.

  Leaving Alabama is what you’ve always wanted.

  Tammy leaned in even closer, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Your worthless parents are going to suck you dry if you stay. Don’t let them. This is it, Cooper. This is life calling.” She shrugged. “Are you going to answer, or just let it ring?”

  I think I went blind in those next few moments, because I hardly recall rounding the edge of the bar. I barely remember the feel of my heart in my throat and the sun on my face as I pushed through the front door just as he started backing out of the spot where he’d parked his convertible.

  “Wait!” I called, the sound of my own voice breaking through the haze.

  He stopped, sunglasses reflecting the front of the diner I never thought I’d leave as I struggled to catch my breath.

  “I just need to grab my stuff.”

  This is insane. This is insane. This is insane.

  Those three words were on repeat in my head as I hastily shoved clothes and personal belongings into the one and only duffle bag I owned.

  Kalo hopped around my ankles as I flew through my tiny bedroom, tossing items over my shoulder and onto the bed next to my open bag. She licked my face when I got close enough, turning in circles with the same excitement she got as soon as I said, “Wanna go outside?”

  “We’re going on a trip, Kalo,” I said to her, scruffing up the soft fur on her head with one hand. She was an Australian shepherd mix, no more than twenty-five pounds with eyes that slightly crossed, which only made me love her more. “With a man. Who I just met.” I paused, swimsuit clutched in my hand. “Whose name I don’t even know.”

  Kalo cocked her head to the side, watching me, and I laughed, ditching the swim suit and rushing to my tiny bathroom to rummage through the necessities.

  All my life, I’d dreamed of leaving Alabama. I’d dreamed of crossing the country, starting a new life, leaving my past behind. Now that the moment was here, I realized the first thing I should have done all those years ago was make a packing list.

  Because nothing I was packing made any sense.

  Yoga pants, three of my favorite paperbacks, including my very worn copy of Catcher in the Rye, jeans, the framed picture of Tammy and me on my eighteenth birthday, a dozen or so shirts and tank tops, hair ties, hair brush, razor, three random dog toys, and my eReader. I only owned two sweaters and one pair of boots, and I threw them in the bag, too, followed immediately by my extra liner and socks for my prosthetic leg.

  I could still remember the day I could finally afford the extra supplies for my leg, after saving and saving on my own, insurance only covering one set of each once I was in my final leg. I’d gone through several growing up, but now that I was done growing, I had my permanent leg. I was lucky my dad even managed to have insurance at all, and I was pretty sure the only reason he did was because his place of employment took it out of his check before he could even see it.

  I added a pair of athletic shorts, ones I only ever wore when I was alone and I figured would stay buried in my bag until we reached Seattle. My tiny Thai Buddha statue Tammy had purchased for me at a flea market was staring at me from the corner of my desk, begging me to bring him along, so I tucked him in the side pocket of my bag.

  Then I stood in the middle of my room, looking around at the faded yellow walls, once white, tainted by cigarette smoke from my parents no matter how I’d tried to keep it out.

  My room was small. The same twin bed I’d slept on since I was eight was sunken down in the middle, shoved against the far wall right under my enlightenment poster. The springs creaked and groaned each time I applied even the slightest bit of pressure. The desk that sat next to it was old and tattered, too, the warped wood nicked in several places. Kalo’s dog bed rested under the old box TV I’d watched cartoons on as a child and barely turned on at all as a teenager, and not a single movie sat on the shelf below that TV, the space occupied with books, instead.

  My eyes caught on my copy of Emerson’s prose and poetry, and I threw that in my bag, too.

  The carpet was light brown and stained all over, the sheer curtain covering my window littered with moth bites. Standing in the middle of it all, hands on my hips, I knew I wouldn’t miss a single thing, no matter what I left behind.

  So, I zipped up my duffle bag without adding another single thing, slinging it over my shoulder before grabbing Kalo’s bed under one arm and my yoga mat under the other. I took one last look at the room, the place that never felt like home, the prison, and then I turned my back on it forever.

  “Cindy,” I said louder than necessary, tapping my mother’s shoulder where she lay on the couch. Sweat matted her ashy blonde hair to her forehead and she squinted, swatting her hand in the air to tell me to go away. “Cindy, I’m leaving.”

  “Okay?” she said gruffly, rolling over to face the back cushions of the couch. “What the fuck do you want, a going away party?”

  I sighed. “Not for work. I’m leaving. I’m moving out.”

  “About time.”

  I stood beside the couch, eyes taking in the slight heap of bone and skin that was my mother. It was hard to believe I’d come from her, that I’d been built inside her, and yet the only thing we shared in common was our last name and DNA.

  “I’m really leaving,” I said again, voice low. “I’m getting in the car with a boy I just met and I’m driving away. And I’m never coming back to Alabama.” I paused, letting that sink in — both for her and myself. “Never.”

  My mother was quiet save for the ragged breaths leaving her lungs, and for a moment I thought she’d fallen back to sleep, but then she spoke.

  “Make sure he wears a condom.”

  I closed my eyes, not sure why somewhere deep in my heart I expected more, wanted more. She’d never given me anything, only taken, why should today be any different?

  With a quick scribble, I left a note for my dad on the folding table where I’d eaten cereal every morning since I could remember, then I shoved through the front door of our trailer for the last time, leaving the smoke and the stink
and the scars behind.

  As soon as I expelled a long breath and lifted my eyes to where the boy from the diner stood leaning against his car, I halted.

  He’d followed me as I rode my bike back to my house, and I’d ditched that same bike in my front yard before sprinting inside without another word. But here he was, waiting for me, and again, the same three words cycled through my head.

  This is insane.

  “I don’t know if I packed the right stuff,” I admitted, feet moving toward him and the car. “I wasn’t sure what to pack, honestly. It’s still hot here but I know it won’t be in Washington. Then again, we’ll be in the car, so I guess it doesn’t really matter too much what the weather is like. We can just adjust the air. I mean you can, since it’s your car. I won’t touch the air. Or the radio. I promise. I’ll be like a fly on the wall. Or, well, not a fly, because flies are annoying. I’ll be like a butterfly. Like, the caterpillar in the cocoon before the butterfly actually happens.” He was just looking at me with those same questioning eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched at a smile. “I won’t be a problem, that’s what I’m trying to say.”

  “Good to know.”

  I nodded, adjusting the yoga mat under my arm. He was just leaned up against the car, which I realized now was not only a convertible, but a BMW, too. His hands were tucked easily into the pockets of his navy blue pants, one ankle crossed over the other as he watched me.

  When he stood straight and opened the passenger side door, Kalo bolted from where she’d been sniffing the grass at my side and jumped right into the front seat, parking her little butt down and letting her tongue hang out as she panted up at us.

  He eyed her, one brow cocked as he turned back to face me.

  “Kalo. I rescued her when she was a pup.” I shrugged. “Can’t leave her behind.”

  He wet his lips, looking back down at Kalo with a curious stare. “Will you be like a butterfly, too?”

  Kalo popped up, little paws pressing into his chest as she lapped at his face before jumping into the backseat.

  He chuckled, wiping at the slobber on his chin before turning to me with an outstretched hand aimed at the bag over my shoulder. I handed it to him, mind still racing with all the reasons this was the dumbest idea ever as he loaded my bag into the trunk, taking my yoga mat next.