Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He looks at me with the saddest face I’ve ever seen. “No, Bugs. Not yet. You gotta make one more stop.”
“I don’t want to.”
He reaches out and touches my cheek with the back of his hand. It’s such a gentle touch, I instantly want to climb back in his lap. “Nova.” He says my name in a serious tone. “If you leave here without going home, you will never get your life back.”
“I don’t think that’s true. I think I’m just fine. I don’t need that place. I don’t—“
He puts his fingertips up to my lips. Hushing me. “You do. The fantasy is over. You need to face reality. And we’re not leaving until you do.”
So that is how he gets me to the trailer park on the far east edge of town. I’m secretly hoping there’s nothing left. But this place was a shithole fifteen years ago. When people packed up and decided to leave, the whole point was to leave these trailers behind.
There’s a gate, so we have to get out of the truck and walk around it. Walk around all the debris that was our childhood.
We come up to his trailer first. It’s only got two walls. He pauses, closes his eyes, and goes silent for about thirty seconds.
Then he opens them again and nods at me. “OK. I’m good.’
“What did you just do?”
“I gave thanks.”
“For what?” I don’t mean to scoff out the words, but that’s how it happens.
Travis shoots me a sad look. And this is when I remember that he prayed that night at dinner. He took my hand and prayed.
That’s what he was doing just now.
Thanking God for this…
“It wasn’t good,” Travis says. Pulling me out of my thoughts. “Not even close to good. But ya know what?”
I shake my head no, because I have no clue.
“This place gave me you. That’s what I’m thankful for.”
I can’t swallow, let alone speak. So I just nod and try to keep the tears from spilling out of my eyes.
He offers me his hand and we continue our journey. Deeper into the trailer park.
When we get to the end, there it is.
Yellow. Just like I remember it.
But this place… it’s bad.
“Wanna see something?”
I look up at Travis and nod. Because I don’t want to look at this trailer.
“Come on.” He tugs on my hand. “I’ll show you one good thing. Then we can leave.”
“There’s nothing good here.” I mumble this out as he leads me around the side of the trailer.
“Wrong, Bugs. There’s this.” And he points to the rusted siding of the trailer’s backside.
For a moment, I can’t really make out the image. It’s a drawing. Spray-painted in red. But then I see the letters and I smile.
“Bugs,” Travis says. Then he pushes an overgrown branch aside and reveals the rest of it. And then we’re both smiling.
Because it says Bugs plus Travis.
BFF’s forever.
We stand in front of it and take a selfie. Then he kisses me.
Hands on my face, kisses me. Open-mouthed and slow. Just the way we like it.
And this is when I know—I’m never going to see Travis Olsen again.
Because it’s a real, honest-to-god goodbye kiss.
When we break apart he says one more thing to me. He says, “Don’t punish Mercer.”
“What? What do you mean? I’m not punishing Mercer.”
“You are, Nova. You just don’t know it yet.”
“He won’t live with us.” Then I huff. And pout a little. Because that’s not true. “He won’t live with me, Travis. He won’t.”
“He’s doing his best to adjust. Has he ever lived anywhere but with those people? I don’t know where he came from, and he sure as hell doesn’t either. But it’s gotta be hard to walk away like that. You need to give him time.”
“I am giving him time.”
“No. you’re giving him space. He doesn’t need space, Nova. He needs acceptance.”
Mercer’s new house is only four-point-six- miles away from my farm, but it’s too far. And the time it takes to drive over there this afternoon feels like an eternity.
I park my Suburban in front of his house. It’s not as dramatic as the one on the island. Or pretentious as the one in Boston. But it’s earthy and has a Seventies vibe going. Mercurial and odd, made of large wood beams and forest-green colored siding, it’s a cross between split-level Brady Bunch and a ghost-town cabin.
It suits him.
I have a key, but I already know the door is unlocked, so I go inside. He’s sitting in a chair in front of the window facing the thickly forested back yard.
He looks over his shoulder at me when I enter. And I wonder if he just sits here all day long. Because I’ve come in on him like this several times now, and he’s always sitting in that chair facing the window.
I wasn’t sure that Travis knew what he was talking about when he told me to accept Mercer the way he is, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.