"Someone once told me that all your problems could be washed away in the sea. Guess that's not true for me."
One Year Older is a tale of Daya Johnston, whose love story unfolds by the sea during the spring break of her final year of high school. Her...
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Jay's words brought back the memories of the day I ran after him. The bus thundered beneath me, matching the thumping of my heart. I was on my way to New Hampshire, to find Jay, or at least to find some answers. The landscape outside muddied into a watercolor of greens and grays, but my focus was on the worries churning in my mind.
A part of me wondered if I was following him because of my family's twisted past. After reading his mother's letter, I discovered that both our fathers abused our mothers. I could have wanted to help Jay find his mom because I'd do anything to have my family back together too. Still, there were too many what-ifs about the situation.
What if Jay wasn't at the house? What if he was there, but his birth mother wasn't? The possibilities spun out like threads, each one leading to a different path of what might come next. What if Jay did find his mom? Would he move there to be with her? The thought clenched in my chest like a fist. He had already left me once. I wasn't sure I could face it again.
The letter from his birth mother, which I shouldn't have read, was folded neatly in my bag. I brought it with me, and throughout the bus ride, I found myself rereading it, tracing the loops and lines of her handwriting as if they were a map to understand Jay.
It was a window into a past filled with hope and heartbreak. She had been sick, too weak to care for a newborn, and running from a man who was a threat to them both. She had loved Jay, that much was clear, but she had given him away to protect him, to give him a chance at a life she couldn't provide.
Anything could have happened to her in seventeen years. I didn't want to say it to Jay but she could still be on drugs, in jail, or even not on this earth anymore. And years later, he hoped for a family reunion that seemed as flimsy as the paper in front of me.
Five hours later, I arrived at the bus station in New Hampshire, my heart pounding. The urgency of finding Jay consumed me. I took an Uber to the address on the letter. Jay had been silent, no calls, no texts, but I'd let him know I was coming.
The house loomed before me, its once vibrant colors faded to a grimy gray, and the windows were like hollow eyes staring blankly into the void. Jay's car was parked out front, and I peered inside. Luggage bags and snacks, but no Jay.
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