All the Missing Pieces (UNDER REVISION)

Eighteen

             The list of places I would rather live in than South Carolina is fairly small, but I've got to say Rocky Mount takes the cake. After passing the third strip club, we find a place to eat before the drive to Florence. The only restaurant in sight is a Wendy's. A fairly tall girl with curly hair named Hannah takes our order. "That'll be $15.49." I hand her the money.

              It's 3:00 by the time we leave Rocky Mount. Any longer and I think I would have died if we'd stayed a minute more. "Thank God, that place seemed like a nightmare." Emily mutters. "Hannah seemed nice, poor Hannah." Marina says. "How would you know?" I ask. "I can just tell."
"You can just tell?"
"Mhm." I just roll with it. "All right boys, Florence time," Marina says. She explains the plan to us for the millionth time, and it can pretty much be summed up in four sentences: Get to Florence and stay in another motel. Go to Charleston. Find whoever the hell Sam is. Find James and convince him to come home. Of course, Marina's version is much lengthier and full of restaurant options amongst other details. I've zoned out because the closer to Charleston we get, the more I realize that I have no idea what to say to James. As totally cheesy as it sounds, nothing feels right. I could run up to him and say I love him, but it's not enough. I could write him a Taylor Swift song, but that's too much. I just can't find the middle ground that I so desperately need to tell him that which I've always known. It's a strange feeling, to be at a loss for words. I almost always have the words that I need. They just flow out like a river, but for the first time I feel like there's a big dam blocking my mind. "Got it Peyton?"A curt call from Marina interrupts my anxiety. "Hmm?"
"Were you paying any attention?"
"I'm gonna be honest with me, you lost me at 'All right boys, Florence time'," She looks at me grumpily. "Is it that hard to listen? This is important.
"Marina you've explained this like a bajillion times!"
"I have not!" She says.
"Mar, you kind of have." Emily pipes in. "Ugh, whatever. We need to make it to Florence so we can get this over. Step on it, Em." Emily rolls her eyes and doesn't speed up at all.

              Florence is definitely nicer than Rocky Mount, I'll give it that, but despite it's homier atmosphere, my guard is up because it is, after all, South Carolina. It's about 9:30 when we make it to the quaint town, so we decide to head straight for a motel. We quickly spend sixty dollars on a room and settle in. I've realized that my heart's begun to pound. I don't think I'll fall asleep easily, but hopefully the sheer adrenaline will be enough to get me through tomorrow.

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow,

Tomorrow, I think. It's still out of my grasp. "I'm stepping outside for a minute." I tell the girls, and I shove my phone into my pocket and leave.

              I end up calling my mom because pacing back and forth on the front porch of The Little Daisy Bed and Breakfast really isn't helping me. She answers almost immediately. "Mijo! I was beginning to worry you forgot we existed."
"Haha, no mamá, I'm fine."
"I'm glad. Where are you guys?"
"We're in Florence. It's a little town in South Carolina."
"Ah, South Carolina. Your favorite."
"I know, right? It literally sucks I can't take this. Of all the places James could have gone, he just had to pick South Carolina." My mom chuckles into the phone. "Let me go get papá so you can talk to him. He's worried about you."
"Yeah. I'm sorry again, I just."
"You'd do anything for young love?" She interrupts. I feel my face heat up a little. "Yeah, I guess." I shuffle my feet while staring at the laces. "Marco! Your son is on the phone!" I hear my mom shout. Seconds later, the husky voice of my dad comes through. "Hola mijo, ¿comó estás?"
"Estoy muy cansado, pero bien, bien."
"Ja ja. Escuchame, Peyton. yo recuerdo cuando era joven. Es probable que yo podría he hecho cualquier cosita por tu madre, porque a ella yo le amaba. Te entiendo. Sabes que no estoy enojado, ¿Sí?"
"Yo sé, papá. Yo sé."
"Bien. Te quiero mucho, Peyton."
"Te quiero." He hands the phone back to my mom. "Besitos, amorcito. Sleep well. Oh! And let me know how things go with James."
"Mom!"
"Okay, okay. I love you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight mamá." I take a moment to think about how lucky I am. My parents do not give a fuck about my sexuality. Especially having latin roots, I'm especially lucky. Not so many Latin gay kids are as lucky. My parents see love the same way I do. It's love. It's not a gender or a person or a race. It's a sense of selflessness. That you find someone you're willing to to move to a new country for, or travel across the United States for. My friends are chill too. I'm lucky that Marina kept treating me exactly the same, and that the reason Emily was mad mainly had to do with the fact that we were in love with the same boy. I breathe in slowly and pocket my phone. Then, I look at the sky. We've reached a temporary break in the rain, though it's supposed to pick up again tomorrow. In a little town like Florence, you can see the stars after wandering off the front porch for a bit. I cross the street to a little park that's covered by trees, and find the few random constellations that I know. The big dipper has made its nightly debut and shines directly above me. I wonder if James is looking at the same stars, out of a window, perhaps, on the beach. I imagine him for a second, staring at the stars through an open window. His hair swept with salty ocean wind, and his pale blue eyes reflecting the light of the moon. A burning feel comenses inside of me. The feeling of love that's nestled in my chest. I'm not nervous anymore, because I know that what I'm doing is right. And I know without a doubt that the words I need to say to him will form in my head the second I look at him. Because he leads to everything, and everything leads to him.