Gran and Grandad don’t get away all that often, but this has always been their escape of choice. Camping in the back of this thing while exploring the Scottish countryside. Mum, Dad, and I even took it out for the occasional trip when I was younger. Though the three of us were a bit of a tight squeeze across the bed in the back.
As soon as I asked about camping, I knew it would be a long shot. I just wanted more time with Avi—more time where it could be just us, where we could pretend we aren’t going to be on opposite sides of the world in a few days.
Static crackles over the ancient radio and I reach for the knob at the same time Avi does, her fingertips brushing the back of my hand. We’ve been flipping through stations for an hour to find something worth listening to and we just lost the best one we’d found. I stop on a song set to raging bagpipes and raise an eyebrow at Avi. She laughs from deep in her belly and pushes on my arm.
“This? Really, this is the best we’ve got?” Her eyes crinkle at the corners and I grab her hand and pull it to brush a kiss against her knuckles.
“What? It’s nostalgic… I don’t get a lot of bagpipe music back home,” I say, but as my smile grows over my joke, hers falls.
“Do you really think of the States as home now?” she asks, and shifts her gaze to look out the window toward the water.
I take a minute to think about my answer. We’ve only been there for three years, but they’ve been formative ones, and considering it’s where I live, I guess it does feel like home. But this place feels like home to me too.
I swipe my thumb over her hand, but she still doesn’t look at me. “I don’t know. I guess so, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t my home too. I think they both can be.”
“Sure. Of course,” she says, sounding upset. Not that I can tell for sure, because she still won’t look at me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says too quickly. “Have you thought any more about what you’ll do next year when you finish school?”
“A little bit. Mum and Dad would like me to stay there, and with the scholarships available I could probably go to university for almost nothing. Coming back here—”
She turns toward me and when she finally lifts her gaze to meet mine, her eyes are misty. I know this isn’t what she wanted to hear and I wish I could tell her coming back to Scotlandisexactly what I want to do. If it meant I could see her more—maybe be with her—I might do it, but I don’t know if I’ll even get into university here. I can’t base a decision like this around someone else.
“Coming back is just more complicated,” I say. “I’m happy there. Rory’s going to go to the University of Nevada. Their creative writing program is really good and I can get a second degree in journalism. It feels like that might be the best option right now. And what about you? You’re still planning on culinary school, right? What about the one your mum went to in France? Didn’t she say she could help you get in?”
“I can get in on my own.” Her response is sharp, and I wish we could go back to before we started this conversation. I just want to hold her hand and pretend that none of this future stuff matters.
“I know you can, Avi.”
“I guess I just hoped you’d at least be considering coming back.” Her voice ticks up a notch as she says, “Just think of the fun we could have if we were in the same place for more than six weeks at a time.” Her face brightens and I can’t deny that I’ve thought about it, but when I take Avi out of the equation, I know that going to university in the States makes more sense.
Right now, she’s here, solidly in the equation, and that makes it harder to stick to that decision though. Especially when she’s looking at me with hope and desire mixed up with emotions I don’t even know how to place.
“You know… You could come to America for culinary school,” I offer.
She scoffs… and then she laughs.
“What? Why’s that so funny?” I ask, glancing sideways to look at her before looking back out the window.
“Jamie, why would I move my entire life to America? I have everything I need right here.”
Well, that fucking stings. It shouldn’t, since it’s essentially what I just said to her but in slightly different words.
“I just mean that I have my options laid out for me here. I’m not really looking for something else. But I guess you aren’t either… I just thought one of your options would be somewhere in Scotland.”
“Avi…” I squeeze her hand, but she doesn’t squeeze back.
“No, it’s fine, really… It was a stupid question. This is still a whole year away, right? No need to worry about it now.” Her face grows serious again and she says, “You’ll come back next summer at least, won’t you? Even if you’re going to be starting uni over there? You’ll come back? You promised.”
“Of course, Avi. We promised each other every summer. I’ll be here, no matter what I choose to do. Will you be here?”
“Aye, I’ll be here.” Her grip tightens on my hand and I relax and remember that she’s here. We’re here, and we still have next summer.
The drive is quieter after that, especially once we find a radio station that isn’t blaring bagpipe music. We take our time on the drive, stopping off to take pictures with some highland cows. There may be a lot of cows back in Nevada, but none of them are as cool as these furry monstrosities. Their big brown heads, wide-set eyes, and lolling tongues are almost cartoonish, yet they’re cute and somehow endearing. Rory will be particularly excited to see these photos when I get home.
Home. There’s that word again.
