Page 43 of A Summer to Save Us

He, on the other hand, pedals like a madman, as if he wants to escape reality.

No more looking over my shoulder to see if I’m okay, nothing.

And the longer we ride, the more I fear he’ll just leave me somewhere.

This is too much for him. He wants to avoid the whole thing now that it affects him personally.

Part of my story is also his. He may be afraid of being found by his family.

I sit tense, and motionless, on the luggage rack, feeling the throbbing in my jaw and my stiff muscles. My eyes water from the wind, and my head pounds so hard my eyeballs sting.

We meet an older man with a hunting rifle and a Jeep during a short break to drink, and he agrees to drive us to the nearest motel. I am so relieved that I almost start crying again.

River remains silent throughout the journey through the great basin of the U.S. It’s strange to see him this quiet; I’ve only seen him like this during the days when he was constantly sleeping.

My head can’t wrap itself around it. Did Ches touch you? Ches— that sounds strange. Too harmless for someone like Chester Davenport. And this from River’s mouth.

As if in a fog, I see sand and stone deserts pass by, sometimes wide valleys, then through dry river landscapes and flat stretches of land with nothing but sagebrush. Hopefully, he won’t leave me at the next motel. Please, please, make him take me further!

Maybe River doesn’t say anything because he’s somehow angry with me because I’ve put up with everything. Because I still don’t speak. No idea.

Carl Smith lets us off at a motel in Jackpot, and River naturally books a room. I cry again and half turn to the side so the receptionist won’t see me.

“Hey.” River’s gaze rests on me after he puts the pen down. And this “Hey” means What’s going on now? Or Do you want to tell me something?

I thought you would leave me here , I write shakily.

He shakes his head, almost disapprovingly. “Why would I leave you ? Logic dictates it would be the other way around.”

In the room, I immediately connect my cell phone to the new charging cable, and a completely different kind of fear takes hold of me.

I have no idea how long it’s been since Dad last heard from me, but it has to be more than seven days.

I don’t know if I even want to read his messages.

Or James’s. My own family seems impossibly far away.

I try to imagine them: Arizona theatrically dropping cucumbers into the blender, James reading Psychology Today , and Dad sitting stiffly and seriously in the kitchen.

They’re like strangers, and the feeling grows stronger the longer I travel with River.

What else do I know about Arizona? What do I know about Dad and James?

Arizona is beautiful and popular, James analyzes and fixes everything, and Dad never laughed and mourned Mom.

That’s it. I don’t want to go back to them. River is my family now.

That night, I lay awake for a long time and hear a coyote howling in the desert through the wide-open window.

So many things run through my mind. Dreamy words, the truth about River, his blood-red words on the piano, Chester, Jack, and John. The idea of never speaking again and forever remaining a victim.

River lies next to me on the bed, but he doesn’t touch me. As I listen to his breathing, I think of his lonely childhood, and the comparison to Peter Pan comes to mind. He’s much more like Peter Pan than a fallen angel. And maybe I’ll be his lost girl, and we’ll travel to Neverland together.

I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore, only that I’m scared.

The carefreeness of the first few days has been wiped away.

Something is hovering over us—not only River’s family but also something dark rising from within him.

Was his father referring to this darkness when he said River was insane?

But it’s so intangible. It’s only a notion, like a black aura surrounding him as he shines ever brighter.

The coyote howls again.

I look out the window at the starry sky. The Swan spreads its wings wide, surrounded by a handful of diamond-clear stars and the white band of the Milky Way. Star-milk-white. Star-graveyard.

Above the blanket, River reaches for my hand and holds it tightly. He doesn’t say a word, nothing.

It’s unimaginable, but despite the truth between us, something still draws us to each other—perhaps even stronger than before. Maybe, especially because we’ve both suffered at the hands of his family that we just had to find each other.

After a quiet breakfast at the motel’s fast-food joint, I turn my cell phone back on in the room.

I can’t believe it works. When I look at the display, I’m almost shocked—over two hundred calls and messages.

I’d like to turn it off again right away, but I have to text Dad to let him know I’m okay, and I also need to know if he’s called the police.

I nervously click on the last message from Dad. It’s a voice memo.

“Kansas...are you okay? What happened that you can’t come home anymore?

” His voice sounds heavy with grief and so incredibly tired, as if he hadn’t slept for days.

He takes a deep breath. “Are you afraid, after everything they... what’s being said about you?

Who are you with now? Chester says you’re sending him messages and pictures every day.

Pictures designed to make him jealous. He says you even had a thing with his best friend.

.. Kans, I don’t know what else I can do.

” Yes, you never know, I think with a hint of sarcasm, but I still have a sinking feeling in my stomach because he sounds so desperate, and because Chester is obviously still making up some story about me.

I interrupt the memo. It’s extremely lucky because, as long as Dad supposedly hears signs of life from me—from someone he “trusts”—he won’t go to the police.

I think that’s exactly why Chester is doing it, so the police don’t get involved in the matter, just in case everything actually comes to light for whatever reason.

For a few seconds, I imagine what it would be like if all his lies were exposed.

Could I go back then? Would I be safe? Would he go to prison?

What he did was assault and so much more.

He blackmailed me by threatening to have a whole bunch of boys rape me if I didn’t go to bed with him.

He could maybe be charged. But then I think of his father and his grandfather, who is a senator.

No one would believe my story, and all his friends would lie for him. I have no witnesses.

Nevertheless, Chester seems worried, or he wouldn’t continue to give my dad false information.

What could Dad tell the police? My daughter is missing, but she’s probably just in bed with some guy somewhere. Ha! He’d sooner die of shame.

I let the memo continue : “Kansas, whatever it is that’s keeping you from coming home, get in touch!

We can definitely work it out... Or are you staying with her?

” I hear him swallow. “Are you with Mom, Kans? You know... I called her, but... her manager keeps brushing me off. Are you with her? Or are you with that guy in the photo?” There’s silence for a few seconds.

“I’ll wait another day. If I don’t get any messages from you, I’ll call the police.

James doesn’t sleep anymore. I don’t sleep anymore.

Arizona rarely leaves the house; she just cries a lot.

.. it reminds me of the time when... when Mom.

.. when your mother left.” He sighs deeply. “Get in touch.”

Mom . He mentioned her—voluntarily. My heart beats hard in my chest. I still can’t imagine the three of them. Arizona sitting in my room crying? James doesn’t sleep anymore? Dad isn’t sleeping?

My family has never been closer to me and yet so far away at the same time. I don’t even feel a hint of satisfaction that they’re doing so badly, even though I secretly wished they cared about me.

I briefly look at the date of the memo. It’s from yesterday, so Dad will go to the police today and officially report me missing. I can’t believe he would actually do that, after what he’d have to tell them.

For some unknown reason, I listen to the memo again. “Kansas, whatever it is that’s keeping you from coming home, get in touch! We can definitely work it out...”

I don’t know why, but I think of the words of that Golden Gate jumper—that everything that previously seemed irreparable suddenly seems repairable.

Thoughtfully, I take a photo of myself and smile slightly into the camera.

I send it to my dad and write, I’m doing well.

I’m on the road with a boy named... I stop myself because it occurs to me that I don’t even know River’s real name now because he’s definitely not called River.

River , I still add. I lost my charging cable and my battery died, otherwise, I would have contacted you. I didn’t want you to worry. Kansas.

PS: Tell Arizona I love her.

I delete the last sentence because it doesn’t seem honest to me. Yes, I love my sister. I love James and Dad, even though it’s a strange, sterile love with Dad and me. Maybe at some point, it might even work again, but not yet.

What’s your name? I type now on the keyboard of my cell phone and hold it out to River after he emerges from the bathroom.

River , he writes back, pulling me into a hug.