21
CADE
Now all I had separating me from my return to the East Coast was a 3,000-mile drive across the country with Echo in my Subaru Crosstrek. I decided to break the driving up with some stops at National Parks and other unique locales along the way.
The first evening we stopped at the Grand Canyon, enjoying the view as the sun set below the peaks. The sky was bathed in orange at the horizon, and as the sun made its descent, the rocks all around me turned to bruised violet. Even Echo sat calmly by my side, evidently as transfixed by our surroundings as I was. It was a breathtaking, life-changing kind of sight.
I called Brooke when we settled in that night and described it to her. Her voice on the other end of the line soothed my spirit. I had just seen her a couple weeks before, but I was eager to get my eyes on her again. I knew realistically at 200 miles apart, we’d still mostly have to communicate via phone, but at least we’d be in the same time zone, on the same coast, and hopefully get more chances to see each other in person. Ireallyhoped she’d considered my offer to try some more-than-friend dates.
The next morning we got our start early, checking out of the cheap dog-friendly roadside motel and heading towards Arches National Park in Utah. When we arrived I picked a hike with a medium level of strenuousness, perfect for Echo and me. As I worked up a sweat and marveled at the red-rock scenery, my thoughts floated to Brooke. I pictured her in her scrubs, tending to a tiny newborn. My heart squeezed with longing.
Just a couple more days.
After Arches I picked up my travel pace, eager to reach my destination. I opted to drive through the scenic Red Rock Amphitheater in Colorado rather than get out and hike.
Most of my time after that was spent on the open road, alone with my thoughts. I drove through corn fields in Iowa and northern Illinois, listening to my playlist and drumming my fingers on the wheel. This journey felt like a new beginning. Training for a new part of my career, being closer to Brooke—things were moving in the right direction.
Four daysafter leaving San Diego, Echo and I arrived in Birch Hollow. Since I was used to my tiny apartment, it always struck me how much room we had to spread out at my parents’ place.
The place was essentially mine for a couple months, so I took over the master bedroom and bathroom. My parents had made some renovations to their bathroom, including a steam shower with a rainfall head, which would be a significant upgrade to my sometimes-working water pressure back in California.
My phone rang and Brooke’s contact photo appeared on the screen, the selfie of her and Maple she’d taken at my request.
“Well? Did you make it?”
I flipped the camera, panning across the roosters and sending her a pic. “You tell me,” I chuckled.
She squealed. “Gah, you’re really back! East Coast, baby!” Her enthusiasm was infectious. We decided to have a phone date that night, from our respective homes. We popped popcorn and drank Pepsi and stayed on the phone while we watched10 Things I Hate About You. It was the best date I’d had in a long time.
When I calledBrooke Friday evening, she was getting ready for her shift. “And where is the fine lady taking me tomorrow?” I asked in a jovial tone. Brooke had insisted she wanted to be the one to plan our first official date, since it would be taking place in “her” city.
“New England Aquarium. Thought you might be missing the ocean life. Then Fenway—did you know the Red Sox are playing some team called the Blue Jays?” I could hear her cheeky grin through the phone.
“Wow, B. Pulling out all the stops.” I beamed at my phone. “Sounds perfect.”
Brooke had taken me up on the hint I’d dropped during her birthday party, and we were finally going to try going on real dates, alternating our locations between Boston and Birch Hollow.
I got up early the next day to make the drive to Boston. I kissed Brooke’s cheek when I picked her up and tugged gently on her thick side braid.
She looked comfortable and beautiful—and happy. I couldn’t get enough of that.
At the aquarium, I held her hand as we walked, only dropping it when absolutely necessary. My teenage self was trying to tamp down the explosion of inner joy at being outon a real date with the one-and-only Brooke Meadows. As we walked around the Giant Ocean Tank, we took in the moray eels, stingrays, and sea turtles.
I tugged Brooke aside to a dark corner, stealing a kiss before we went to the open-air part of the building to see the marine mammals.
For half an hour we took goofy selfies in front of the sea lions.
Brooke pointed to a placard. “They’re from California, too,” she told me, eyes full of humor. Just then a sea lion came up to Brooke and planted a kiss on her cheek. She broke into giggles as its whiskers tickled her face.
“Hey now,” I chastised the animal. “That’s my move.”
After, we had lunch at the cafe that looked out over the Boston Harbor. I was starting to see why she liked this city.
My heart really revved up when we drove to Fenway Park. Despite my team’s longstanding rivalry with the Sox, I had to admit, this was a bucket-list level stadium to visit. When we parked, I stopped Brooke from getting out immediately and instead reached into my back seat.
“First, we must fix our attire,” I intoned seriously. She was wearing cute cutoff denim shorts, a plain white top, and white high-top Converse. I pulled out two Blue Jays jerseys. We hopped out of the car, each with a jersey in hand.
I knew we’d be out of place in a sea of Red Sox fans, but I got a thrill seeing her slip on the oversized jersey, the jersey formyteam. She left it unbuttoned in the front, letting her plain white top peek through.
