Long Way Home

For ten minutes I’ve been fighting with this damn trunk. I’ve lost a hat, the itinerary, and my wits, but it’s closed. Blue jays perch along the wire, offer no assistance except tilted heads, and tiny commentary during the man vs metal match.

That’s ok. My dignity has long been stuffed in one of the suitcases.

“Honey,” Audrey’s voice reaches me before she does. “We’re running late! We’ll miss our stop to see the giant statue of the bear.”

She offers a new copy of my itinerary with a smile.

“Sweetheart, it’s made of butter. We’re not missing anything.”

“Not with that attitude. I won’t share my roll with you when we get there.”

It’s not on our list, and I have no plans for detours. She knows this, but insists on thinking her itinerary in her head is the one we’ll be using.

I slide into the driver seat, set our destination to our new home.

Audrey moves all the vents toward her, blasting cold air on herself. She’s wearing shorts, tank top and sandals. Meanwhile, I’m bundled up for how the weather actually is. Thirty degrees with a chance for Winter to make its final appearance before Spring settles in.

We’re stepping into a new chapter in our lives.

Our family is growing by one, we replaced our broken vehicle, bought a starter house with top notch security, and now—new job.

We can finally start living once we get there.

The SUV purrs as we leave this old place.

I release a breath, letting go of all the trials and tribulations that place held. From broken faucets, permanently locked windows—even the flooring was uprooting itself to run away from everything that was wrong with the place.

The light turns green, and I turn onto the Highway 95.

A truck barrels down the other side of the interstate, turning at the same time we do. We had the right of way, but it seems he doesn’t care. Tires squeal as he swerves, nearly hitting us.

My arm instinctively swings across Audrey, holding her in place. She grips the door handle, knuckles white.

The driver in the truck yells at us before speeding off.

“People these days,” I say, shaking my head.

Audrey keeps her sights on the truck. “Maybe he needs to take a shit.”

I palm my face. She loves to give people more grace than I ever would.

As the miles stretch, my shoulders finally relax. Audrey settles into her seat, dozing off with the itinerary over her eyes to block out the sun.

For years, I’ve dreamed of what our future will look like. A life filled with laughter, parties with friends, and watching our family grow from babies, grand-babies, and even fur-babies. This place was all wrong for many reasons. Problems that’ll cease to exist the moment we’re at our new place.

We’re finally heading in the right direction, and once we’re there—

The local DJ’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, his high-pitched voice sends a chill down my spine.

“Good morning Silver Springs! The sun is shining on this beautiful day. It seems ol’ Jack Frost has changed his mind. No snow in the forecast, the birds are chirping and Karmin wants to show us what Pure Imagination can look like.”

Audrey stirs, rubs her baby bump, and sings along to our child.

“Can you imagine the excitement finding out after giving birth, Noah?”

“There’s nothing exciting about not knowing if we’re having a girl or a boy.”

I rake my fingers through my hair. It’s one of the few debates we continue to have. She enjoys living in the moment, I’d rather have the moment prepared so we can enjoy it.

“Oh, pish posh. We give our child the moment to show us who they’ll be—not us. Wait, the butter bear is coming up.” She gestures out her window, leaning forward. Her lopsided space buns block my view.

“We have two hours to get to the hotel.”

“It’ll take fifteen minutes! You can’t give me that?”

The golden bear comes into view, and against my better judgement, I guide the vehicle to the side of the road.

Audrey beams as she wobbles out of the vehicle.

Seeing her like this warms my chest, my sun on the gloomiest of days. Just how I thought today would be, but nature had her own plans.

“Welcome to Butter Your Biscuits!” The server, Margaret with three pigtails, says with a bright smile. “Make sure to stop at Goldie Locks for a selfie, and don’t be shy, Goldie has the best butter around!”

Audrey flutters about the best she can, rubbing the side of her belly as she talks to the locals. She’s always had a knack for settling into the crowd wherever she goes. She claims home isn’t where the house is, it’s where the heart is.

And it’s with her.

I check my watch. Thirty minutes to get to the hotel that’s an hour away.

“If yer busy watching time, it’ll pass you by,” a local passerby says.

It’s easy for people to toss out unwarranted advice. They’re not the ones behind schedule before the sun could consider setting for the day.

Audrey waddles her way to the vehicle, a smile plastered across her face. “The locals are so nice! They gave me these,” she gestures to a cart full of bags being pushed by a teenage boy.

“How… never mind. Thank you, sir!” I rush over toward the cart. “I got it from here.”

“There’s decor in there, honey! Be gentle!”

Every bag nearly topples over with food. “Not sure when bread turned into a decor item, but I will.” I place each bag with care in the back seat. I took great pride in stuffing our belongings in the trunk so we had the back seat empty. But as usual, Audrey had plans for that space.

She grins, kissing the side of my cheek, and begins her battle with getting into the vehicle.

I thank the young man with money, but he refused. “We all look out for each other, sir. Money isn’t good here.” He waves at Audrey, readjusting his baseball cap and fades into the crowd of tourists.

“Such a magical place! I wonder if the tree place will be just as magical?”

“We’re not stopping at any more places.”

“Tonight, sure.” She straightens her space buns. “Tomorrow is a new day!”

I sigh. “Sweetheart, we have to get to our new place. My job starts on Monday.”

“It’s Tuesday, Noah. We have plenty of time for visits, the place is only eight hours away.”

“A lot can happen in eight hours. What if you go into labor?”

“I’m sure there’s a doctor around.” She shrugs. “Oh! Wasn’t your favorite movie filmed at the hotel over here? Let’s go visit!”

“Our hotel isn’t too far.”

“This one is right here.”

I grip the steering wheel, imagining that it’s my sanity. “Fine. I’ll call the hotel.”

She pats my arm. “I love you, Noah. You’re going to make an amazing father.”

The vehicle slides to a stop just as reluctant as I am about calling the hotel I’ve had booked for weeks.

Audrey hobbles inside, her hand rubbing the side of her belly. The baby must be really kicking today. Future gymnasts, she’d say.

Ding.

The door chimes when I open it.

“Check it out, honey! The leading actress stayed in room 57. Our room!”

“That’s great. It seems our hotel overbooked us.”

The employee, Hal, hums. “Modern times, modern problems. The room’s on us.”

“No, no. We can pay.” Audrey shakes her head.

The static cuts through the radio. Hal slaps it on the side and Come With Me continues playing.

“It’s fine, darling. We take care of our people. Money isn’t good here,” he hands off the keys with a gentle smile.

We settle into the room after bringing in a suitcase I purposely put at the back of the trunk for easy access. Luckily, the food came in handy since the restaurant at the hotel lost our reservation.

“This place feels right. I could live here.”

The king bed takes up most of the space. A tiny kitchen nook in the corner. The shower is smaller than the kitchen. Thankfully, they managed to fit a toilet.

I deadpan.

A laugh bubbles out of her that disarms me, and I join in her absurd idea.

She turns on the TV, Karmin plays in the background. She hums to the tune, drawing me in and we fall into rhythm as we dance in the minuscule space.

The following morning started the way the previous one did. A fight with the trunk, blue jays perched along the wires above, and a wobbly Audrey snacking on bread while she settles into the passenger seat.

“You can’t take the bed sheets. It belongs to the hotel.”

“Hal said take whatever we need.”

“He wasn’t being literal.”

“He sounded literal,” she mutters as she rolls up the window, sticking her tongue out at me.

We have the bedding packed up, but no—she liked these sheets.

Hal stands by the window, watching us. I’m sure he saw her take them.

I just know this will come back to haunt me. But I shove the thought aside and focus on the itinerary. Four hours. That’s all that is separating us from something better.

The trees have shifted over the past hour. The pine trees fade into planes of dust with nothing in sight for miles. Come to think about it, I haven’t seen any exits since yesterday morning.

“Shouldn’t there be an exit coming up?”

Audrey hums, looking out the window. “I don’t think so. Did we miss one?”

The vehicle jerks, the wheel tightening in my grip.

My heart jumps to my throat, thrumming frantically.

I ease off the gas, allowing the vehicle to slow to a bumpy halt on the side of the road. Then open the door, quickly closing as a car zooms past with no regard for us.

After it’s deemed safe, I meander over to the right passenger tire to find the culprit.

A nail.

We just bought this. This is impossible. The sales guy ensured the upgrade package included special tires. I paid extra to prevent this from happening.

“Everything okay?” Audrey peeps through the cracked window, peering down as if she can see the flat.

“No. Everything isn’t. Do you remember ever seeing a tire center? Repair shop? An exit? Something other than buttered bears and knick-knack shops?”

“There’s the Redwood Escape over there.” She points to something behind me.

I turn, blinking rapidly. As if it’ll change what I’m seeing.

That wasn’t there a minute ago.

Desert greets something entirely new. Something thriving where it shouldn’t be.

Thick moss stretches into a massive field of snow covered redwood trees. Trunks as large as houses. Each with intricate designs, lights, and… people. Tons of visitors wandering around the trees. No. Through them.

Blue jays fly all around, bouncing from branch to branch, chirping along the way.

It’s infectious. They’re all so… happy. What are they celebrating?

The teenager that helped Audrey yesterday bursts from the crowd, waving with bright eyes. “I knew you’d find it!”

“Our tire…” my words lodge in my throat.

Hal walks toward us with a tire rolling behind me. On its own.

“It’s always the innocent ones. Poor thing doesn’t know where they’re at.”

I grab the tire, refusing to acknowledge the absurdity of it.

“I just really need to replace the tire. I can pay for it.”

Hal waves me off. “Money isn’t good here, son. We’ll get you back up and running in no time.”

“You can’t expect us to not pay. We have to pay for something.”

The boy and Hal exchange looks.

“You already did,” he says with somber eyes. He sighs. “We look out for each other. We’re family here.”

“No! My family is here,” I gesture to Audrey. “You both are locals, and we appreciate the—why do you keep looking at her?”

Audrey’s hands grip her belly. “Honey, I think…”

Hal sighs, shoulders dropping. “I told you he wasn’t getting it.”

“What?”

I drop the tire, running to Audrey.

Is she in labor? She hasn’t complained of contractions—I’ve studied every book to catch any signs.

“Something isn’t right.” She blinks, taking in her surroundings like she’s seeing them for the first time. She walks towards the crowd in wonder. “They’re all so welcoming.”

The teenage boy removes his cap, glances down before meeting my eyes. “Only those that see us are one of us,” he slides the cap back on. “This isn’t a place for the living.”

My breath hitches. My knees buckle.

The collapse onto the ground isn’t nearly as painful as everything snaps into place.

The truck.

He didn’t swerve. It wasn’t a near miss.

Audrey. The baby. Me.

Broken glass. The passenger tire isn’t flat. It’s lodged inside the vehicle.

The sheets—placed over us.

Have I been so focused on getting somewhere to finally start that I missed we never got a chance to leave?