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Before I’m Gone
Sit in the front seat of a roller coaster and feel the wind in my hair
Eat tacos or tortillas from a roadside stand in New Mexico
Shop at a large farmers market
Meet Lana Del Rey and see her in concert
Take a picture of the most-painted shed in the US
Sit in the sand and watch the sunrise in Cape Cod
Take the steps to the Lincoln Memorial
Do yoga in Sedona
Tour and feed animals in a wildlife sanctuary
Stand under a waterfall
See Elvis on the street corner in Las Vegas
Hug an elephant
Find my family
Step on grapes and make wine
Run through a wheat field
Drive Route 66
See the marquees on Broadway
Ring the Liberty Bell
Buy a quilt from an Amish stand
See the northern lights in Minnesota
Visit Plymouth Rock
Touch Babe Ruth’s bat
Travel the Loneliest Road
Visit the Muhammad Ali Center
Dance in the rain with someone I love
Take the ferry to the Statue of Liberty
Check out the Grand Canyon
Take every picture I can of Palmer
Make Palmer smile
Eat chowdah in Boston, per Palmer
Eat pizza in Chicago
Try frozen custard in New York City
Get coffee in each city
SIXTEEN
San Francisco’s airport was busy at night. The cab driver double-parked and helped Kent with their luggage, while Palmer stood on the curb and waited. For some reason, she expected there to be fewer people than during the day, but something told her she was wrong. The terminal was packed with people. They stood shoulder to shoulder in line or rushed by one another to get to wherever they needed to go.
Kent used the kiosk to check them in for their flight while Palmer looked around. The bright lights, the loud sounds, and the intercom voice that seemingly talked over itself made Palmer wish she’d worn headphones and a blindfold. There was too much going on, and she feared the worst.
They waited in line to drop their bags off for what felt like an hour, when it was probably twenty minutes. After she and Kent had made it through security, they found their terminal, and then went to the nearest restaurant to waste some time. Prior to leaving, Kent had given Palmer a corticosteroid shot in her hip to help combat a seizure and would give her the anticonvulsant before they boarded their flight. He wanted her to walk around to keep her hip from tightening up, but she wanted to eat. Kent wouldn’t fight her on anything she wanted. She knew this.
They sat down at a chain restaurant, and Kent suggested she order a glass of wine. She looked up when he said this and swore she saw a glint in his eyes. He smirked, and she wondered what he had up his sleeve. When the server took their order, they both ended up with soda. Palmer wanted the caffeine and planned to get more before they finally got on their plane.
“How about an espresso martini?” he proposed without looking up from the menu.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re trying to get me drunk before our flight.”
Kent closed the menu and set it down. “You fidgeted the entire drive here and seem on edge. I can assume why, but I want to make sure you’re comfortable. Are you having second thoughts?”
“No,” she said. “I want to do this. I just can’t help but think about . . .”
Kent reached across the table and took her hand in his. “I get it. Anytime you want to come back, you just say the word, and we come home.”
She nodded and mouthed “Thank you” to him. She confided in Kent that she feared she wouldn’t return to her apartment or the city she loved so much. Kent hadn’t wanted her to think like that and tried to assuage her thoughts by telling her how amazing their trip was going to be. Anything could happen to either of them at any given time. Their future was a bunch of unknowns, but he promised to make sure she made it back to say goodbye.
While they waited for their food, they looked at the travel books Kent had purchased and discussed whether they should take the ferry to Nantucket or Martha’s Vineyard when they were in Massachusetts, or keep moving south to New York City and save the ferry ride for when they visited the Statue of Liberty.
“I say we wait until New York,” Palmer said. “The trip to Nantucket is long, and I’m not sure there’s anything I want to see there.”
“And you can get clam chowder in Boston,” Kent pointed out.
“New York it is.” They had started a journal of sorts, writing what each other wanted to see in each state. Realistically, they knew they wouldn’t get to all the states, but their goal was to knock off as many things on Palmer’s list as possible.
“When are you going to open that?” Kent motioned to the envelope protruding from the journal.
