The Journey

Chapter 1

     It was sunset when I landed. I watched the orange sun reflecting off the airport windows as I made my way past security and out to curb. I hadn't seen Harry in five years but there he stood, leaned up against the hood of his old coup, looking as effortless as ever, black jeans, messy hair and tired emerald eyes.

     As I approached he looked up from his hands and he said nothing, though I could tell from the slight smirk on his face he knew it was me. My pace picked up as I approached him, he stood up from the hood of his car and wordlessly pulled me in tight, nestling his face deep into my shoulder. Mint and cedar, I thought, he always smelled of mint and cedar. His hug felt exactly the same yet he felt different, as if the two were somehow separate from another. He'd grown an inch or two since I'd last seen him, and filled out, though he wrapped around me the same way he always had.

     ''Hi.'' He said, pulling away and looking at me intently.

     ''Hi,'' I smiled ''hardly recognized you.''

     ''I know, I'm a weathered old man now,'' he said, running a hand through his hair, ''you look different too.'' He ran his thumb absently across his cheek and grinned, the dimple in his cheek brought a smile to my face.

     ''Does that mean uglier?'' I asked.

     ''Nah that'd be impossible.'' He teased, taking my bag from my hand and walking it to the trunk.

     ''Your jokes haven't improved.'' I said, hiding my smirk.

     ''Don't worry I'm just warming up,'' he winked at me and slammed the trunk closed before walking back over and hugging me again, we stood there wrapped up in one another for a long moment, before he pulled away, shaking his head.

     "Five years," he sighed, "We sure are idiots, shouldn't ever be that long between visits." I smiled and agreed, even though we both knew why we didn't visit, why it was too hard.

     "It's six hours to Jenkins," his voice steeped in dread, "better get going." He walked back to the drivers side and climbed in. We talked about what we'd been up to the past few years, he asked about my family and I asked about his new job, but the further we drove out of Phoenix the quieter we got. There were too many memories, too much trauma driving through that old desert, too much fear to focus on much else.

     We drove through the night in complete silence. Windows up, radio off, doors locked. We even drove straight through stop signs if we could help it. Harry's hands were in a vice grip around the steering wheel, I could swear he was hardly breathing. Every few minuets he would he would sigh and try to relax his shoulders. I wished I could reach out and touch him, if only just to soothe his thoughts, but I knew it wouldn't help.

     The old '76 Camero was practically a member of our friend group. It had tacky wood interior with plushy maroon seats, the kind that I always associate with my grandmas couch. The leather on the steering wheel had cracked from the sun, Harry absently picked at it while he drove, a habit he'd never been able to kick. The car's ceiling fabric drooped low in the center, another characteristic that only worsened with time and bored back seat drivers. Harry bought the car from a junk yard in high school with the intentions of fixing it up and selling it, instead he got attached and named it Winona.

     We stared at the road ahead, holding our breath at every bend in the road hoping to see the city lights below, we'd been driving long enough that a halfway point couldn't be much further. For the first time in what felt like hours I looked away from the road directly ahead of us and stared into the vast desert outside my passenger window. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. The cloud coverage was dense enough that the stars seemed like they'd been swallowed right up. The desert at night was as beautiful as it was terrifying. I watched out the rear view mirror as the windy road disappeared in the distance.

     We drove up one last hill and saw the city lights below. Harry sighed and I slumped comfortably back into my seat for the fist time. I never thought I would be this relieved to arrive in Williams.

     "Maybe we should stop here for the night, pick back up in the morning." Harry said, breaking the three hour long silence, his voice rasped with sleep.

     "Yeah, sounds good." We both hated driving in that desert at night, there was no need to say it aloud. No need to give any more thought or conversation to past memories than we already had.

     Williams is one of those hideous pass through trucker towns. I know people actually live there but I can't imagine what they do for a living. One main road separates the town in half, lined with run down strip malls, motels, gas stations and knock off fast food joints. It's not the kind of place you want to get stranded in but it was better than another 4 silent stress filled hours of driving. We pulled off the main road and into what looked like the least crowded motel we'd come across.

     The room looked like it hadn't been touched since the 70's. Faded floral wallpaper, an old box TV set, green shag carpet, and two queen sized beds draped in mismatching quilts. Harry took a seat on one of the beds and plugged his phone in to an outlet near the nightstand. I dropped my bags on the opposite bed and searched through my suitcase for a tee shirt to sleep in. I went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. I could hear Harry's voice through the door, probably on the phone with someone. Maybe it was his sister, maybe it was a girlfriend. I wasn't even sure if he was dating anyone. The nice thing about Harry and I's relationship was there was never any pressure to talk if we didn't have anything to say. But now after 5 years apart the silence didn't feel as comfortable, it felt resentful.

     When I came back from the bathroom Harry was laying on his side fast asleep, his phone still in his hand. I walked over and unlaced his boots, lifted his legs onto the bed and pulled a spare blanket over him.

     Time may have changed Harry but he looked no older than 17 when he slept. As if the wears of life disappeared the moment he slipped out of consciousness. Even fast asleep you could tell Harry had kind eyes, it was one of those physical traits that translated into his personality as well. There was never anyone more kind than him. Or beautiful, I thought, looking over the sharp line of his jaw at contrast with the hiding dimple in his cheek.

     I crawled into the bed across from his, laying on my side so that we were facing one another. I thought as long as I could see him maybe I would feel safe enough to sleep. Maybe seeing his deep smile lines would remind me of happier times. Maybe hearing his sound breathing would soothe my anxiety.