The Impact of You

Avery

Feeling sorry for myself isn’t working – neither is pretending my past will go away. It won’t. Even if I transfer to a school in Alaska, and no one knows, I will know. And that’s what I hate most. I hate living with the regret – having something I can never take back. It might sound strange, but I’m disappointed in myself, and I’m tired of living with that feeling.

Maybe that’s what this little road trip will provide – the chance to think, to get away from everything for a few days, leave all my crappy baggage behind. When I return, I won’t be the same girl. I’ll know my mom, for one. And I’ll work on forgiving myself. With each mile I drive, I’ll leave my past behind me. So I took some sexy pictures with my boyfriend? I wasn’t going to let that own me. Not anymore.

While other college kids are getting ready for a fun Friday night out, I’m preparing for a twelve hour drive to Denver. I’ll stop for the night somewhere across the massively long state of Nebraska. That will put me into Denver tomorrow afternoon, and my mom, Jessica, or whatever I will call her, has asked me to come over and have lunch. The idea of meeting her is overwhelming, let alone seeing her home and sitting across from her over lunch. I may puke before I even drive the first mile of the trip.

Noah and Madison – just like my parents – are eager to join me on my road trip adventure, but I tell them the same thing. This is something I need to do alone. Maybe just to know that I am strong enough to face it.

It is late afternoon, but the sun is already preparing for its nightly hibernation. The streaks of golden sun lighting up the sky remind me I’ll be driving in the dark soon and I need to get moving. I hitch my backpack higher on my shoulder and continue across campus to where my car waits. My car is right where I left it, but it’s the guy standing next to the driver’s door that gives me pause.

“Ja-Jase?” My tongue trips over his name, both from surprise at seeing him and from the ban I’ve imposed on speaking his name.

“Hi,” he returns carefully.

the sidewalk, because I know if I go to

I pull a shaky breath into my lungs. What is he doing here?

closer. “So you’re really doing this?” My eyes must betray my confusion, because he adds, “I talked

their shared lit class. I try not to read too much into it. “Yep. She lives in Denver. We’re meeting up tomorrow afternoon for lunch.” It explains how he knew where I was headed, but not

you –

“That

because…of what happened…doesn’t mean I’m

on the backseat. “It’s fine, Jase. I’m good with going alone.” I don’t know what’s with

like to come. I’m all packed.” He holds

myself cruising down the highway, singing along to the radio, and giving myself a nervous pep talk in the driveway before meeting my mom. Do I want an audience for what is sure to be an emotional trip? I have always imagined doing

nothing about us – about what him being here means. Why

having his comfortable silence next to me, his warm hand to hold if I need it. It changes everything. I don’t know what will happen between us, but there’s

“Fine. Get in.”

“Want me to take