Cross-Country

Chapter 5

I only had about nine hours left to go before I reached San Francisco, so I set out at six in the morning. I figured I'd try to arrive at a decent time and do my best not to wake anyone up or interrupt them in the middle of dinner. It wouldn't do to make myself seem stranger than was inevitable, after all.

I was laser focused on the road the entire time. It helped distract me from the tangle of nerves my stomach was slowly twisting into. When I entered the outskirts of the city, I was an anxious mess. Thousands of scenarios whirred through my mind. I had to pull over on the side of the road to calm myself down, and I still couldn't understand why I was putting so much weight on this one thing. I gulped down some water and gave myself a few minutes to breathe, and then with a sigh I started the car again.

910 Palm Boulevard, I chanted to myself in my head. I repeated it over and over, until it lost any meaning it had ever had.

910 Palm Boulevard turned out to be a decent-sized house in the suburbs. It was painted a cheerful yellow and bright flowers grew in its window boxes. The lawn was neatly trimmed, and there was a large tree that cast a long shadow over part of it.

Now that I had finally reached my destination, I felt strangely at peace. It didn't matter so much, I decided, who waited behind that door. It didn't matter because even if Sam wasn't here, or if he slammed the door in my face, it wouldn't be the end of my journey. There was Rebecca, and Carolyn, and Jack, and Chad, and so many beautiful sights along the way that my heart was fit to bursting. I'd done so much on this one cross-country road trip that I would always love Sam for giving me the chance to take it, even if he was old and fat and screeched at me to leave him alone.

But, as it turned out, my worries were unfounded, because he was none of the above. When I strode up the sidewalk and pressed the doorbell, the man who answered was unbelievably handsome. He had bright green eyes with laugh lines at the corners, and wavy light brown hair bleached by the California sun. He smiled at me, and I almost bit my tongue. "Hello, how can I help you?"

I kicked myself into action and reached into my bag, pulling out the old book and handing it to him. I felt much lighter all of a sudden, and I immediately missed the familiar weight. His eyes lit up when he saw it. A faint blush colored his cheeks. "Oh, god, my first journal. I haven't seen this in... in years. I thought I lost it. Where'd you find it?"

I ducked my head. It was my turn to blush "Um. Philadelphia."

I chanced a glance up at him, but he merely looked amused. He chuckled lightly. "So, you drove - what, forty hours? - just to return this to me?"

"Well. Looks like it."

He laughed outright this time, but it was a pleasant sound, free of malice. "Well, it seems you have me at a disadvantage," he said, echoing words I'd heard what it seemed ages ago, "You know my name and everything about me - well, everything about my high school self - and I don't know a thing about you."

He tangled his hand in his hair. "Sam Johnston. Pleased to meet you."

"Claire Meyers."

"Well. If you've taken the time to come all the way here and bring this to me, I suppose it's only fair that I invite you in for some coffee, huh? What do you say?" He held out his hand.

And, well. When everything around you is gray and everything in your life makes too much sense, why would you refuse a splash of color, no matter how small, when it is offered to you?

I slipped my hand into his.

"I'd love to."

~~~~~~~~~~~

January 1, 2011

It's been a rough few months, but I think things are looking up. Not to get all caught up in that stereotypical New Year's cheer and forget about the real world, but I'm a lot happier now.

I think this year is going to be a good one.

- Sam.

The end.