Love, Dad | ✔️

14 | FALL IN LOVE

There's something about an interstate highway that nearly wipes out my memories of before. Each ticking mile marker brings me further away from the person I was at the start, and I haven't even been away from home for that long at all.

As I lean back in my seat, soaking in the rays of the brazen golden orb that is the California sun, a strand of hair falls across my face. Dave reaches out, brushing it back gently, his touch sending a shiver down my spine.

"So, Lewis? How are we feeling? It's Tuesday morning, and we're about to enter L.A. Four nights, like I promised."

Los Angeles, the City of Angels, looms large in the distance, a hazy mirage shimmering in the late morning heat. My stomach lurches – a cocktail of nerves and weird excitement bubbling within.

"Hey, you okay?"

I look to my left. Dave's watching me intently. His eyes, usually guarded pools of whisky brown, hold a softness I rarely saw before.

"Yeah," I stammer. "Just a little... tense."

Dave's right arm rests casually on the top of my seat. "L.A. getting to you already?"

"More like the fact that this whole trip is ending. It's all over so soon. I'm about to see my Dad. We just need to drive to South Western Avenue where his newspaper office is and..."

It's done.

And I mean it. The last five days whirled by me like a cassette in a Walkman set on fast forward.

The past twenty-four hours from Lawson to L.A. flew by in a blur of highway miles, shared gas station snacks, and comfortable silences that somehow felt more meaningful than words.

"Ending, huh?" Dave pauses for a beat. "Maybe we can make it last a little longer."

What does he mean by that?

"We could take a celebratory swim at Long Beach, now that we're here? Before... before we go our separate ways."

Of course, that's what he means. Just a swim, and then a friendly farewell... right?

"Yeah." I force a smile, not wanting to read more into what happened between us. "A swim sounds perfect. Sticky from a road trip and all." It's not entirely a lie. It's almost midday and the sun has turned the blue Pontiac into a rolling sauna.

But the truth is: I crave more time with Dave.

We lapse into silence as the majestic sprawl of Long Beach comes into view. The iconic Queen Mary looms on the horizon, and I can't believe I'm finally seeing it live.

This is James Dean's California —wild, sweaty, important, the land of lonely and exiled and eccentric lovers. The land where everybody somehow looks like broken-down, handsome, decadent movie actors.

Having parked the car, we grab our towels and sunscreen, a comfortable silence settling between us. Reaching the crest of the dunes, I take a deep breath of salty air, the rhythmic crash of the waves a soothing melody. Below, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean shimmers under the midday sun, beckoning us in.

Dave glances at me, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Ready to jump in?"

"Absolutely." My playful smile mirrors his.

The prospect of cool water washing away the road trip grime – and maybe some of the lingering tension – holds a delicious appeal.

We shed our shoes and socks, the warm sand squishing between our toes. With a whoop, Dave removes his jeans and his t-shirt, and races towards the water only in his undies, the retreating tide snapping at his heels. I follow suit, but leave the t-shirt on, as the cool water envelops me in a refreshing embrace.