Page 20 of On the Way to You

Thoughts of my parents creeped into my mind, as they always did, and I would imagine myself stripping those thoughts from my mind and dropping them onto a cloud floating by, just like my yoga instructor had taught me when I was thirteen. Anything that didn’t serve me, mind, body, and soul, I let go of in my morning practice. When my eyes fluttered open and I pulled my leg into place again, I felt at peace, walking back to the room with an easy smile and open heart.

The room was still dark when I opened the door, and it appeared Emery hadn’t moved even an inch. I checked the time on the small alarm clock next to his fluff of hair, frowning when I saw it was already eight. Our plan had been to be on the road no later than eight-thirty.

I’m not his mother,I reminded myself, ducking into the bathroom to quickly rinse off. I didn’t break much of a sweat that morning, so a full shower wasn’t necessary, but I did want to freshen up before sitting in the car next to Emery all day.

I packed up my belongings as quietly as I could, taking Kalo for a walk and getting her fed and watered for the day ahead. When the clock read a quarter till nine, I flicked on the first light, just a small lamp in the corner, and cleared my throat.

Emery didn’t stir.

I zipped up my bag, plopping it on the bed without care for being quiet anymore.

Still nothing.

Kalo watched me as I blew out a breath and I shrugged down at her, extending an open hand toward the ruffled mess of covers Emery still laid under. Kalo followed my hand, and then before I could stop her, she jumped up onto his bed, digging into the covers until she uncovered his face.

“Ack!” Emery groaned, rolling over with furrowed brows as Kalo assaulted his face with her classic puppy kisses. I scolded her, though I was laughing, and called her name until she jumped over to my bed instead, sitting with her tongue still flopped out.

“Sorry,” I chuckled as Emery covered his face with his hands. “It is almost nine, though… want me to make you a cup of coffee or anything?”

He shook his head, palms still dug into his eyes as he rubbed them.

“I was thinking,” I started, pacing. “Maybe we should make a plan. For the trip. Like, cities we want to hit, amount of miles we want to cover each day. Not that we have to stick with it to a T or anything,” I said quickly. “I just mean it might be nice to know what to expect.”

“Come here.”

I stopped, watching as his hands fell exasperatedly to his sides on top of the comforter. It puffed with the weight of them, and his tired eyes found mine.

“Come here,” he said again, patting the small patch of empty bed beside him. He was still practically in the middle of it, and he didn’t make to move to either side.

I swallowed, fingers finding the cool metal of the ring on my middle finger. It matched the one on Lily’s finger thousands of miles away, our promise to remain best friends no matter the distance between us. I spun it around and around as I sat on the edge of his bed, unsure where to look.

He didn’t say another word, just reached out for me, hand wrapping around my elbow gently and guiding me down until I was lying on my back next to him, careful not to touch my body to his, heart thumping hard under my ribs.

“I had a strange dream last night,” he said, voice gruff. It sounded different than last night, the baritone of it, and I caught the hint of sadness that underlined it like a shadow. “I’m not sure if I even slept at all, but I know I dreamed.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to answer him, or ask about the dream, or just lie there. The third option seemed to be the only one I could manage, so I kept spinning my ring, eyes on the ceiling.

“I was an eagle, I think, or maybe a crow. A crow seems more likely. I know I had wings, and feathers, and a beak. And I was aware I couldn’tactuallybe a bird, I still felt human inside, but I was building a nest. I had all these…” He threw his hands up in front of us, waving them around. “Sticks and shit. Leaves and sticks and mud and just all of it was a mess. And I kept trying to build this fucking nest.” He was growing more and more agitated, his voice picking up volume as he spoke. “But nothing would work. The mud was too wet, it wouldn’t hold, and the sticks were too fragile. Everything kept breaking. And there was this storm coming, I could hear it in the distance, and see the clouds and the lightning. And I needed to build the goddamn nest.”

He paused, shaking his head. He shook it over and over, not speaking for the longest time. When he finally did continue, his voice was softer, almost broken.

“The storm was closing in, and I was still frantically trying to get the nest to stick, feathers flying everywhere from the exertion. And I was moving so slow, like I was under water. But then all of a sudden, I looked at the storm, at the clouds, at the lightning, and I realized I didn’t know why I was working so hard to build the nest. I had no one to build it for, no one who needed it, no one I was protecting. And I wasn’t scared of the storm.”

I pulled my eyes from the ceiling, tilting my head just a little, enough to watch the slow rise and fall of his bare chest beside me. I was on top of the covers and he still rested under them, the comforter gathered at his hips. I just watched him breathe for a moment, wondering why he was telling me this, wondering what it all meant.

“What happened next?”

Emery let out a long breath. “The storm came, and it washed me away. I couldn’t control anything, and the rain was so hard, it flooded me out of my tree and down into a low valley, the rapids dark and treacherous. But I wasn’t scared anymore, I was only upset I spent so long trying to build that fucking nest.”

The fingers playing with my ring stilled, and I folded my hands over my stomach. “That is a strange dream.”

Emery nodded, rolling over until he faced me completely. He waited until I tilted my head a bit farther, until our eyes connected, and then I saw the sadness I’d heard in his voice before. His eyes, so gold the day before, were dull and tired, and they watched me with a plea for something, though I didn’t know what.

“I don’t want to drive today,” he whispered. “I don’t want to move from this bed. Can we just… can we stay here. I’m so tired.” His eyes closed, the same two lines forming right above the bent ridge of his nose as he did. “I’mtired.”

I swallowed. In that moment, the tall, confident man I’d met the day before reminded me more of my mother, helpless and sad. I wondered what had happened to him, what demons he battled in the dark of the night when no one else was around.

“How about I drive today?” I whispered back.