All The Ways We Touch [BxB]

seventy-two - home is where the hurt is - pt. three

"Caught a bus, left the state, and ended up in a town I knew nothing about. I was lost, both figuratively and literally, with only a couple of bucks left to my name, and a freezing winter night rolling in fast. I ducked into a diner for a cup—or three—of coffee to keep from heading back out into the night. There was an older woman sitting at the counter who came over to me after I asked for a fourth refill, and the waitress told me the next one wouldn't be free. She was a trucker and said she could spot a lost soul and that mine was practically screaming at her for help. She told me about a youth shelter that she thought could help me to get on my feet, and she was right. I was finally surrounded by kids like me, and some adults who had gone through their own troubles in the foster care system. It was all volunteer-run, but it was perfect. I got my driver's license, then my G.E.D.—you know, the test you can do instead of getting your diploma through high school—," she said, trying to educate him in case he didn't know that, "then went right into trucking school as soon as I turned eighteen. Been running the roads ever since. I even own my rig now." She rubbed her hand affectionately over the steering wheel. "Or Priscilla, as I like to call her."

"That's impressive," he said, still eating slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was throw up in her prized representation of her freedom.

She focused on the road as Jamison worked on his sandwich, though he stopped halfway through the half he'd eaten, feeling sickly stuffed. Tucking it back inside the packaging, he leaned over and pressed his head to the side of the truck and closed his eyes. He'd slept the day away, but now that he felt some kind of safe, he realized just how exhausted he still was. It was in every joint, muscle, and bone. Every ache was just as much a yawn.

He awoke a few hours later, his mouth so parched that his tongue felt dried out. Hoping he wasn't snoring, he dipped a hand into the drink bag and pulled out a still-cold bottle of water. Taking a swig, he swished it around his dry mouth to try to revive his ability to speak. "Trees," he said quietly, glancing over at Suze. "I need to go somewhere with lots of trees."

"Well, you're lucky because we're headed in the right direction for trees," she chirped, smiling broadly. It seemed that she'd at least built some trust. "Any kind in particular?"

Jamison thought for a long moment. "The kind that contrasts rich brown trunks with deep green leaves. I think I'd like for them to be tall, too, but I'd be happy with any kind, really."

"You the type to want to live in a forest? Where there's more trees than people?"

He hadn't even considered that, but the thought made the corners of his lips awkwardly turn up. It was the closest thing to a smile in longer than he could remember, his depression having stolen every smidgeon of joy he could find in that place and numbed him to it. But the idea of being surrounded by trees and away from people was exhilarating enough that his heart raced with excitement and desire. For the first time in years, he felt a sense of hope. "Yes," he whispered, almost afraid to speak, as if something would come down and prevent it from coming true if he did. "Do you know of such a place?"

It was Suze's turn to think. She'd driven up and down the west coast and knew her normal routes like the back of her hand. Then she'd go exploring during her time off, finding it difficult to stay in one place for too long. "I think you'd like the Pacific Northwest in general, but I think you might find home amongst the redwoods, which are in both the top of California and throughout Oregon. There's a moderately big city called Astoria that has a bunch of small towns tucked into the forest around it. You'll have to do some research, but I'd bet Astoria is a good place for you to start."

He was unsure of how to go about doing that, but figured that a library might be a good place to start. Would he want to stay in Astoria while he looked into it? The excitement faded as he realized he was still destitute and had no way of getting any money to live anywhere. "How did you get an I.D.?"