Queen of Nothing

34. reality

We'd woken before the sun the next day, to avoid check out charges--it didn't help that Milo sprung straight up at five am, while I groggily slid out of bed. 

We'd gotten straight into the car and after two large coffees, we were on our merry way. It was our last day of travel and I'd wanted nothing more but to put this mess behind me. 

"I'm going to start walking everywhere by the time we get home," I groaned, plopping my head against the headrest. We'd been driving nonstop for a week now and the idea of a stepping foot on a highway again made me feel a variety of nausea. 

Milo laughed, "It's not that bad." 

"Easy for you to say," I mumbled, "you probably came out of the womb enjoying road trips." 

He shrugged, "It's true. I always enjoyed road trips. Remember the one we took to Carmel with my family?" 

Milo's family had driven us all down to Carmel for the weekend for swimming and all kinds of idyllic activities that could only be accomplished on the pacific coast. We'd camped out for a night and erected a hammock between two redwood trees. Somewhere in a tree I'd carved out "M + S" for this kid Sam that I'd had a crush on at the time. 

I cast Milo a sidelong look, "I do. It was a good weekend." 

"Smores, barbecue...man that was the life. No worries in the world." 

"Yeah," I replied, my voice small and faraway, "no worries in life." But I thought back to how Milo's mother had insisted that I come along with them when my mother had been dealing with one of her manic episodes. I'd showed up at their doorstep, barefoot and bramble eyed, having not eaten in days because my mother had forgotten to pay the electric, and all the refrigerated food went bad. So for days we ate dry cereal and protein bars, while I ached for a warm meal.

And then before I knew it, I was in a pair of fresh clothes on the way down to Carmel where we would play games and barbecue chicken over an open fire and get dunkin donuts on the way to the beach. Those memories swam in my brain, the version where Milo's parents were still together, and fought hard inside to reconcile it with the version of my life now, where they'd long separated and hadn't been in contact. 

I'd always used them as a standard for love in my life, that if Mitch and Cara couldn't make it work, then no one could. So imagine my surprise when I found out that something had come in between them. 

Something that could have been prevented entirely. 

I felt a twinge of guilt at the memory and tried to shake it off. Milo, sensing the tension, spoke up, "Take this next exit." 

I frowned, "What? Why?"

"Just trust me," he said, with a twinkle in his eyes, "pull over." 

I obliged him and felt grateful to escape the LA traffic, while he blurted out a set of instructions until we got to Koreatown. I made a series of turns before pulling up to a covered parking lot. 

"Milo what are we doing?" I frowned. 

"You'll see," he grinned as we stepped out of the car. We walked a short way until I was standing over a shrub with a sign that said The University of Southern California. 

I turned to him, "Why are we at USC?" 

He shrugged, "That writing program you mentioned, isn't it here? Maybe we can do a campus tour." 

I groaned, "Milo, we have to go home." 

"Just an hour," he reasoned, "and then we can leave. I promise."