The Geography of Lost Things

by Jessica Brody

  “Wow,” I say, slightly speechless. “That sounds . . . fun.”

  “It’s going to be amazing,” the woman says. “You and your boyfriend should totally check it out.”

  Nico catches my eye, and in an instant, I understand exactly what he’s asking, without either of us having to exchange a word.

  Are you going to correct them? Or should I?

  Dread trickles through me as I think about telling yet another person the whole story of our past. The breakup, the road trip, the house foreclosure, the Craigslist trades, the agony of being on the road with your ex-boyfriend. It seems like everyone we’ve met so far has heard at least some part of the saga: Scott, the waiter at Jenny’s Giant Burger; Laurie, the barista; Mack Polonsky; Emily Sweeney; every single person who read our Craigslist post.

  I’m so tired of hearing the same story.

  I’m so tired of living the same story.

  For three days on this road trip, I feel like I’ve been trapped inside of it, unable to escape. And now I just wish we could unwind it all. Go back to the beginning. The very beginning. To the moment Nico first stepped up to the passenger-side door of that old VW Beetle parked in June’s junkyard, commenting on my “nice ride.” Before it all began. Before we became Nico and Ali. The Fixer and the Commissioner. The couple doomed by rain and an impending comet.

  Before trust was built and broken.

  Before Nico lied and I ran away.

  Before it was good. And before it was bad.

  Back when it was all just . . . endless possibility.

  And then, as I sit there in the driver’s seat, staring up at Nico standing next to the passenger door of the Firebird, I think, Why can’t we?

  Here we are, in almost identical positions. The location is different. The car has more walls. The sky has more stars.

  But couldn’t we still have endless possibilities?

  At least for one night?

  At least for one movie?

  I tear my gaze away from Nico and smile at the costumed couple. “Oh, we’re not together.”

  Andy looks from her husband to Nico to me. “You’re not?”

  “No,” I say quickly, before Nico can interject. “Actually, we just met. A few minutes ago.”

  “You did?” Andy’s face lights up as she turns to Nico for confirmation.

  Nico looks at me and cocks his eyebrow. This clearly wasn’t what he was expecting me to say. The question is whether he understands what I want him to do. What I suddenly, desperately need him to do.

  His eyes sparkle with mischief, and in that instant, I know.

  He does.

  “That’s right,” Nico says, nodding to the couple. “I just saw her sitting in this awesome car and thought she was cute. So I came over to ask if she wanted to share my popcorn and Milk Duds.”

  Andy practically melts. “Awww. That is so romantic! Another love match brought to you by The Goonies!” She gently slaps Brand with the back of her hand. “Isn’t that romantic?”

  “Almost as romantic as when Brand and Andy kiss in the water after she walks the plank,” the man says, bowing down to kiss his wife.

  “I don’t remember that part,” Nico says. “Was that at the end?”

  “Don’t spoil it, honey!” the woman chastises. She then leans in to Nico and whispers, “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. This is the perfect first date movie.”

  “Good,” he whispers back, giving the woman a thumbs-up. “Although, we sort of haven’t gotten to that part yet.” He nudges his chin meaningfully toward the car.

  “Oh!” the woman says with sudden understanding. “Right. Of course.” She grabs her husband by the elbow and pulls him away. I expect them to scurry off somewhere and give us some space, but they only take a few steps back, and the woman keeps her gaze trained on us, as though we’re the movie she came to see tonight.

  Nico peers at them and fights hard to keep a straight face. “Hi,” he says to me, and I’m surprised to hear he sounds genuinely nervous. Like he really is meeting me for the first time. “I’m Nico.”

  “Hi,” I say, smiling. “I’m Ali.”

  “Come here often, Ali?”

  I snort out a laugh. “Nope. First time. You?”

  “Same.”

  He tilts his head and scrunches up his eyebrows, like something is bothering him. “Ali,” he repeats. “Is that short for something?”

  I flash him a beatific smile. “Yes. Actually, it is. It’s short for California. I’m named after a Fear Epidemic song.”

  He nods. “Great band. It’s a shame they broke up.”

  “Twice,” I add.

  “I think it’s going well,” I hear Andy say to Brand in a quiet voice.

  Nico stifles a laugh as he leans over the passenger-side door. “Is she right?” he whispers to me. “Is it going well?”

  “It better be,” I whisper back. “I think Andy has staked her life on it.”

  “Well, then, you better invite me to sit down.”

  I cross my arms and scrutinize him. “Hmm. I don’t know. Are you trustworthy?”

  Nico grins. “Oh, I’m definitely trustworthy. And very friendly. Plus, I’m an excellent swimmer. I’m basically a Newfoundland in human form.”

  I burst out laughing. “Well, I can always trust a Newfoundland.” I nod to the big screen, which is currently showing the Warner Bros. logo, indicating that the movie is about to begin. “Would you care to watch this classic eighties film with me, Nico?”

  Remarkably, Nico somehow manages to keep a straight face as he says, “Why, yes, I would, California.”

  He opens the passenger-side door, but just before lowering himself inside, he catches my eye, winks, and says, “By the way, nice ride.”

  This time, we manage to watch the movie all the way through to the end. We don’t miss a single scene or a single line.

  Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for Andy and Brand, who seem to be more focused on us than the movie. As if the future of their own relationship is somehow dependent on this “first date” going well. They’re sitting in the car parked right next to the Firebird, and every so often, during an especially funny or suspenseful part, I catch Andy stealing peeks at us to make sure we’re reacting properly.

  “So, what did you think?” Andy asks as the closing credits start to roll. She’s leaning out the window of their sedan to speak to us.

  Nico gives her another thumbs-up.

  “And you?” She turns her gaze on me.

  “Excellent movie. Loved the ending.”

  “And . . . ?” she prompts, motioning ambiguously between us. When we return her question with blank expressions, she clarifies. “Did you two, you know, hit it off?”

  I bite back another fit of giggles as Nico responds, “Well, there wasn’t a lot of time to talk. Because of, you know, the movie.”

  Andy chuckles. “Of course. Carry on.” She gives us a dismissive wave and ducks back into the window of her car.

  Nico and I can’t even look at each other for fear of cracking up.

  “So this is what it feels like to be a lab rat,” Nico says. “I’ve always wondered.”

  “I think she’s a sociologist running an experiment on the effects The Goonies has on modern youth.”

  “Seriously, right?”

  “Is she still watching us?”

  Nico pretends to yawn and stretch so he can glance over at the next car. “Yup.”

  I laugh into my hand. “What the hell?”

  “Maybe we should just get out of here.”

  “No way!” I practically screech. “We can’t just leave.”

  Nico looks confused. “Why not?”

  “Because she’ll think we’re leaving, you know, together.”

  “So?”

  “So! We’re supposed to have just met,” I remind him. “Plus, I can’t drive this car. I won’t make it three feet.”

  “Hmm. That does leave us in a bit of a lurch.” Nico screws his mouth to the s
ide. “Although, if I drive the car out of here with you in it, I will look like quite the player.”

  “No. Not gonna happen. We just have to say good-bye. End the date and wait for them to leave.”

  “Ah,” Nico says, like he’s caught me out. “So you think this is a date?”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t start.”

  “Which means technically it should end with a kiss.”

  I feel my cheeks grow hot. I pray that Nico can’t see them in this darkness. I cross my arms to hide the goose bumps forming on my skin. “For your information, I don’t kiss on first dates.”

  “No, you just invite guys into the sleeping suite.”

  I slap him. “That was not our first date!”

  “Don’t hit me,” Nico warns playfully, jutting his head toward Andy and Brand’s car. “What will our audience think?”

  “That you’re being a jerk! I should just yell at you and kick you out of my car. Let’s see how much of a player you look like then.”

  “Fine,” Nico gives in. “We’ll just have a nice, civil good-bye. Like friends. Then I’ll go hide out in the snack stand until they leave.”

  “Fine.”

  I open the door and get out of the car. Nico does the same. I can feel both Andy and Brand’s eyes on us as we meet in front of the hood.

  Nico dramatically straightens his posture. A stage actor about to put on a finale performance. “Well, Ali. It was lovely to meet you. I hope we can watch a movie in a car again sometime.”

  I fight to keep my composure. “Yes, Nico. Lovely to meet you, too. Good luck.”

  I extend my hand toward him. But he doesn’t shake it. He just stares at it, as though he’s a foreigner, unfamiliar with our customs. The seconds pass, and my hand continues to hang there.

  I clear my throat, causing Nico to look at me.

  Come on, I urge him with my eyes. Move it along.

  Slowly, Nico reaches for my hand, his fingers barely brushing my skin.

  The reaction is instantaneous. An electrical charge running down a wire. My body remembers. Tiny flames ignite all over my skin. As though the fire that constantly lived inside of me for those eighty-eight days had never been fully extinguished. It had just been reduced to embers. Still glowing. Still smoldering.

  Still waiting.

  Nico slides his hand further into mine until our palms are touching. But he may as well be touching everything. Because, in that moment, I feel everything. Just as I did from the very beginning. Just as I did until the very end.

  Just as I’ve continued to do on almost every second of this road trip, despite my attempts to fight it.

  Nico’s eyes lock into mine, and I instantly know that there’s no turning back now.

  There’s no way this moment can end in anything else but disaster.

  He wraps his strong fingers around my hand, and I feel the slightest tug. The slightest ounce of pressure pulling me toward him. It’s a question. It’s an invitation.

  All I have to do is say yes.

  Take one step.

  Make one move to close the gap.

  And I know Nico will be waiting for me on the other side.

  My heart hammers in my chest like a war drum. And that’s exactly how this feels. Like a war. Like a battle neither of us can win.

  Nico blinks and drops my gaze. “Well,” he says, his voice sounding unusually thick. “Good night, Ali.”

  I swallow, suddenly overcome with the sensation that I’m too late. “Good night.”

  He gives my hand two firm pumps and then slowly withdraws, letting his fingers and all their warmth fall away.

  My breathing slowly returns to normal.

  Nico flashes me a smile. It’s the kind of smile that closes open questions. That concludes things.

  Then he turns and starts walking toward the snack stand, leaving me frozen and speechless in front of the Firebird. I don’t dare look over at Andy and Brand for fear of seeing the disappointment etched into their faces. For some reason, I don’t think I can handle it.

  I’m suddenly anxious to get back into the car and close the door and lower the convertible top down, cocooning myself away from this place. Away from this night.

  With a shaky breath, I turn and walk toward the driver’s-side door. I reach for the handle, but something catches my arm, spinning me back around. Before I can even make sense of Nico standing there, his hands are cupping the sides of my face. Before I can utter a single word, he’s steering my mouth to his.

  And before I can even contemplate what it means, I’m kissing him back.

  10:22 P.M.

  SEASIDE, OR

  INVENTORY: 1968 FIREBIRD CONVERTIBLE (1), CASH ($323.38), SEA GLASS (1 PIECE), LOST-KEY BUTTERFLY SCULPTURE (1), USELESS PHOTOGRAPH (1), SEAHAWKS TICKETS (12)

  “Are you sure you don’t remember the name of it?” I ask Nico for the third time as we drive up and down the streets of Seaside.

  “I don’t think she ever told us. I just remember her saying it was right on the beach.”

  I scan the map on Nico’s phone and shake my head. “Well, there are, like, ten hotels right on the beach in this town. It could be any of them.”

  For the past twenty minutes, we’ve been searching for the bed-and-breakfast owned by Blanche and Howie, the couple we met back in Crescent City who traded Mack’s chess set for the Gibson guitar. It’s proving more difficult than expected, but at least it’s giving us something to do and, more important, something to talk about.

  It’s like we’ve made a silent pact not to mention what just happened at that drive-in. Neither of us have said a word about it. Not one word. We’re both just pretending it didn’t happen.

  Because it’s not like it meant anything. It was a fake kiss. A performance. A make-believe ending to a make-believe first date. Nico was just playing a part. And so was I. It doesn’t matter how good the kiss was. It doesn’t matter how easily we fell back into each other, how adeptly our mouths came together. Now we’re back in the car, back on our quest, and the moment is over. End of story.

  Except why doesn’t it feel like the moment is over?

  Why does it feel like the moment has been following us ever since we left? It’s shoved the shadowy pit aside and has taken its place. And now the silence between us feels more awkward than ever. And that’s saying a lot given the awkward silences we’ve had on this trip.

  Nico sighs as he turns right on Avenue G, starting our third tour around the tiny town. “Who offers someone a free night’s stay at their bed-and-breakfast and then doesn’t tell them the name of the bed-and-breakfast?”

  I laugh. “Someone who doesn’t really want you to stay there. Maybe we should just pick one of these others hotels and rent a room.” I click on the nearest one, glance at the rate, and wince. “Ouch. Never mind.”

  We’re almostdown to our last three hundred dollars, and I really don’t know what we’re going to do for food and lodging for the rest of this trip.

  “Rip Advisory!” Nico exclaims.

  “Excuse me?”

  “What did she say about that review on Rip Advisory?”

  “You mean TripAdvisor?”

  He waves his hand. “Yeah, whatever. Wasn’t she going on and on about something with pancakes?”

  “Yes!” I say, suddenly understanding where he’s going with this. I open the web browser and navigate to TripAdvisor. “She said they were complaining about the blueberry pancakes having too many blueberries. I’m on it.” I type “Seaside, Oregon” into the destination box and click enter. Then I do a search for “blueberry pancakes” in all of the hotel reviews.

  A huge grin spreads across my face as the results are narrowed down to one.

  “Nice work, detective.” I put my hand up, and Nico high-fives it. “It’s called the Cascade Country Inn.”

  “Oh! I saw that place back a ways.” Nico yanks on the wheel and turns the Firebird into a sharp U-turn. A few minutes later, we’re standing in front of a beautiful colonial-
style cream-colored house with red roses lining the front walkway and a white picket fence surrounding the property.

  “I hope we’re not too late,” I say. “Should we just ring the bell?”

  Nico shrugs. “I guess. I’ve never stayed at a bed-and-breakfast before.”

  “Me neither.”

  I tentatively reach out and press the buzzer. A moment later a young woman dressed in striped pajamas answers the door. “Hi. Can I help you?”

  “Um,” I say awkwardly. “Hi. We’re looking for Blanche or Howie.”

  “Sorry. They’re already asleep. They go to bed pretty early. I’m the night manager.”

  I deflate. So much for that plan. “Oh, okay. Never mind. Thanks.”

  I turn around because it’s not like I can just claim that the owners promised us a free room. How shady would that look?

  “You aren’t, by chance, the Craigslist couple, are you?” the woman says.

  I spin back. “Yes, we are. Why?”

  “Awesome! Blanche said you might come by the inn. And she told me I should wake her immediately if you showed up.”

  I share a look of disbelief with Nico. “She did?”

  The woman nods. “Apparently you made quite an impression. She said, and I quote, ‘If that sweet young couple from Greg’s List comes by, be sure to wake me up, no matter the hour.” She chuckles and opens the door wider. “So, right this way.”

  The woman leads us into a gorgeous living room decorated with ornate wooden furniture, gold damask wallpaper, and a red-and-white floral rug. The room looks like it was transported right out of the early 1900s.

  “I’ll go wake up Blanche,” she tells us before disappearing up a creaky wooden staircase.

  Then, Nico and I are alone.

  And, now that we’ve located the inn, we no longer have anything to occupy our minds. Or fill the silence with. The moment that followed us here from the drive-in seems to grow and expand until it’s taken over the entire room, shoving us to opposite corners.