Avery Cooper slung the bag over his shoulder, already questioning if he'd taken too much stuff.
Nonsense. One could never be too prepared.
He took one last glance towards the large house, staring at the dark silhouette he'd come to know over the years.
If everything went well, this would be the last time he'd have to see it.
Avery's tight curls blew in the June winds.
He fumbled with the lock for a few seconds, making enough noise, it felt, to wake up the whole neighborhood. Every creak of a branch felt like some old lady was opening her windows to scream at him.
He managed to lock the door without garnering the attention of any geriatrics. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, he could pull this off.
Avery padded down the driveway, trying not to scrape the gravel with his feet. He winced every time he did. When you're trying to be quiet, every noise feels at least 110% louder.
He cast a forlorn glance at the garage. It housed his father's two cars and several bikes. He would have loved to ride around in the red Cadillac, but it would be too recognizable.
He bit his lip. Wouldn't walking several miles be tiring? Could he even do it? Avery wasn't the most active kid. He chucked at the gross understatement.
A few seconds of deliberation later, he opened the garage and hissed curses at the loud, metallic clangs that ensued.
The garage was an all consuming black cave. It brought to mind the colour of space.
He immediately fished the flashlight out of his bag, proud of his forethought. The bluish light made the space a dash more comfortable. Emphasis on 'dash', he thought, looking around. Only God knew how many varieties of snake lived in the garage. And only God knew how many were roused awake right now, ready to bite if he got too close. He shivered, though it must have been eighty degrees.
Sitting there, light dancing on its surface, was the cherry red car. Perfectly spotless, perfectly polished, perfectly perfect. Avery almost salivated at the thought of driving it. But no, he couldn't.
His flashlight lit the bikes on the nearby rack.
He took them down, wondering why his father wasn't already woken up by the noise.
The bike he had chosen was a dull scarlet. It wasn't nearly as bright as the Cadillac, and had an almost sickening orange tint, but it would suffice. And, it had a nifty wire basket. He felt the rim with his fingertips, smiling when he found the dent. He had gotten it a few years ago when he braked for a turtle and crashed into the nearby foliage.
Closing the garage and wheeling out the dinky-ass bike, he breathed in deeply.
He was doing this. He was running away. He was going to be his own man, somewhere far away from his father.
Hell yeah.
He strapped on his helmet, making sure it was secure. After checking the bike for flat tires, loose screws, weak joints, and the like, he sat on, a bit uncertainly. But it wasn't his balance that was uncertain- it was him.
He ran through the contents of his bag three times. And then he ran through the letter he wrote for his father which was currently taped to his bathroom mirror. He remembered the wording verbatim. It wasn't like you could not remember that sort of thing- it was important. Possibly the most important thing he'd written in his life. Other than the application to Yale, of course.
It just occurred to him that the application didn't matter anymore. He felt a sizeable weight fly off his shoulders.
In the censor of night, he raised a middle finger towards his house. It was something he never could have done at any other time than now, when the adrenaline was running and his heart was pumping double time.
He rode into the dark, a goofy smile plastered across his face.
----------------------
Avery had planned all of this out. He knew where to go, what to do, how to spend his money. He had memorized his route to the nearest city, and had a thousand different alibis for anyone who would care to ask.
He didn't plan for a flat tire, though.
The limp rubber gushed out air from a tiny hole. He waved his hand in front of the airstream. How could he be so stupid?
He batted his glasses up his nose with a trembling finger.
He could do this. He was smart. A genius, for Christ's sake.
The funny thing is, he didn't feel like a genius, standing on the side of a highway with a useless, tiny bike. He felt like a little kid who couldn't think things through.
He couldn't fill his tire with air, because it was punctured. So he'd have to walk, or use public transportation. Walking was tiring, and public transportation could get expensive, quick. If he didn't save his resources, he'd have to eat at McDonalds or something. The thought made him gag.
He bit his lip, staring at the cars passing by. It couldn't be over; not so soon.
An idea came to him.
He got out his flashlight once more, and waved it over his head.

“I know you don’t want to see them, but this is the least you could do. 6 months until the day. You’re important to me and I want you to be there.”

The two men sat in front of each other, separated by a glass wall. The man in the crisp suit stared intently at the other, a stocky man in plain prisoner’s clothing, fidgeting in the cracked, plastic chair.

“…Yeah, I’ll come. I don’t dare miss out on the beautiful couple. I didn’t miss the first…or the second, or third—there was a fourth, right?”

“Hah! I appreciate the vote of confidence, but this is it, Jay. You’d like her and the kids.”

“No doubt.” John Bautista always felt uncomfortable they spoke; his body contorting back to its old mannerisms, too familiar for his comfort, his tongue rolling easily over the names of past people and friends and lingo, as if he still yearned for them. Prison didn’t approve of him when he arrived—it never does, not to newcomers—but it finds ways to change you.

He ran a hand through his closely cropped hair and smiled weakly, ”Thanks again for coming to visit. I’ll see you in New York, alright?”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Occasionally the moon would peak out between the leaves of the trees, leaving spotted bits of light on the hood of his car. It was a quiet night; warmth resting on the forest air and animals tucked away in the nooks of green. The air smelt like redwoods, and he would miss it when he left the west coast. There was no one else on the road but him, and he could only see as far as the next twist on the winding path. He’d have to drive a couple more hours to reach the motel. After he checked in, he’d grab a nice, warm dinner at a nearby diner and go to sleep. Or maybe he’d hit up a local bar. Or lie in bed and watch a documentary until he fell asleep…

The car was quiet and powerful beneath him, a surprising pleasant feel for a used vehicle. He’d gotten it at at a random dealership in the Bay Area after making sure that he had enough in his bank account—it was satisfying and painful to comb through his belongings, frozen in time after the financial mess right a few years ago, before prison and during his time. He was lucky that he lost as much money as he did, and no more—it was more than enough, now.

'I could be on the road forever,' he mused, 'I could do that. After the wedding, though.'

He hummed to the song on the radio, dipping in and out of static, and continued down the almost nausea inducing road. The greenery around him became less and less as he neared the city, and he came onto a straight road. He squinted at a blinking light in the distance, preparing to make any hard turns to avoid drunk motorcyclists. The light waved around wildly, but didn’t seem to be moving forward, and he quickly flipped his high beams on and off.

It was a young man, one hand waving a flashlight and the other resting on the handles of a bike. Jay hesitated, but slowed as he neared the figure. The boy seemed sullen and unsure what to do with himself—a flat tire? a runaway? Jay was tempted to mind his own business, but it had been an uneventful past week. Plus, the boy looked like he needed a hand. He pulled onto the side of the road and rolled down the window, ”Hey, you ok? Lookin’ a bit lost there.”

Avery lowered the flashlight, a bit wary.

The first thing he noticed was the car. It was a beat up red pickup truck with mud sprayed on the wheels. If Avery looked a bit closer, he could see the delicate heads of flowers peeking out from the dry mud. Its headlights were heavily clouded, the dull yellow glow fighting through the thick fog.

The man looked like his car, if that made any sense. 'Weathered' came to mind. He had creases lining his face like roads on a map. The deepest were the ones between his eyebrows, a set of apostrophes on the root of his nose. The man looked kind of Asian, though Avery couldn't exactly tell from where.

Just like the man's face matched his car, they both matched his voice. Deep, thick, and had scratches at the beginnings and ends of words. It seemed to come from somewhere deep inside.

"Hey, you ok? Lookin’ a bit lost there."

Avery's voice sounded pathetic in comparison.

"I guess. But my bike isn't in the best condition-" at this, he directed the beam of light at the stated object "-and I need to get somewhere."
He stopped himself dead after that sentence.
'Get somewhere'? Where? Did he have any destination in mind other than a cabin in the woods somewhere? Or a hotel?

He literally had no clue what expression the man had on his face, but it shifted a bit. The creases got a bit bigger.

"Uh." Avery wore a nervous smile, glad the light beam was away from his face. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Nice.

He shone the light in the other's face. Yep, Asian or something. Or Polynesian. He sucked at telling ages, so the man could be anywhere from thirty to fifty, for all he knew.

A soft tendril of air whirled around them, fanning the car's scent in Avery's direction. It smelled like rain and the musky fumes of car exhaust, something he had never smelled together. Avery had the strong belief that the man smelled the same way.

Based on the vehicle, and the guy's general aura, Avery would have assumed that the man was a yard worker. But something about his face told him otherwise. A yard worker, or any worker, really, would have an urgent expression on his face. A willingness to go back to what he was doing, to get away from this kid. But the man didn't look like any of this. He looked like he wasn't doing anything.

Odd.

He didn't know what to make of this strange, unreadable, petrichor smelling, maybe Asian man. So, he fumbled with the straps of his helmet. The plastic buckle snapped open with a barely audible noise. He slipped the helmet off his head, his curls springing all over the place like a small army of jack-in-the-boxes.

Jay’s face relaxed and he smiled, feeling like he had to approach the boy as one approached an unsure fawn. He felt a little bad for the black boy with his punctured bike and guilty face. It was almost nine and they were decently far from denser signs of civilization—it only made sense to bring him.

“I’m heading up north to Chiloquin. I can take you up there. It’ll take an hour, but at least you can call someone or find somewhere to stay for the night.”

He pulled the gear to park and got out of the car, his body and facial expression open and easy. He was still perturbed by how effortless it was to talk to people, adopting their social standards and making conversations “easy”. The disarming demeanor he grew up with, and the necessity of social adaption in his job and prison, were enough to outlast his complete breakdown a few years ago. Old habits die hard.

He pointed to the boy’s bike and said, ”I’ll put that in the back for you. You can also put your things in the back or just in the seat.”

After an affirmation, Jay lifted the bike and strapped it to the back, securing it to the floor of the trunk with a strap. He gave it a couple pats before opening the passenger door and walking to his side of the vehicle. He stepping up the foothold and hauled himself to his seat. He leaned back into the cushioned leather, inhaling the comfortable fumes of the car, and the heated leather of the seat held him close. Even though it was summer, Oregon nights still brought an enduring chill. Even in the form of consistent car heating, he would take all the blessings he could get.

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