t h i r t y - e i g h t

*

The sun comes out and I squint against the light, turning my cheek against Arjun’s jaw to escape the bright rays. In this moment, I don’t care about San Francisco. All I care about is his arms around me, my back against his chest, the breeze in my air. The sky is changing before our eyes and I lean a little heavier against Arjun, soaking in the dawn.

“Found them!” comes a yell from behind us.

The voice jerks me out of my dreamy reverie and Arjun jumps; we twist at the sound to see Carrie stamping down the brittle grass as she stomps over to us.

“Jesus, you two, Sam is freaking out!” she says when she reaches us.

“What? Why?”

“Uh, maybe because your tent’s empty and we’re in the middle of nowhere and you guys have a track record for disaster?” She rolls her eyes and huffs, brushing her hair off her face. “Everything ok? What’re you doing out here so early?”

“We’re good,” I say. “Just enjoying the sunrise. Didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“Maybe leave a note next time,” Carrie says. She doesn’t sound too put out, though, and there’s a hint of a smile on her face as she subtly takes in our position and the beauty behind us. “Come on. Time to put Sam out of his misery.”

Arjun releases me and I look across to see him smile, one hand dropping to my hip and then finding my fingers. Carrie turns on her heel to lead the way back to camp and we follow a few metres behind, far enough that she can’t hear our murmurs.

“Thank you,” Arjun says quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand. “And I’m sorry. Probably shouldn’t have gone off alone this morning. I just needed a moment.”

“I know. I get it. But I also know that you’re gonna have the time of your life at St Andrews. You’ll probably find a whole host of crazy clever Latin-speaking friends who make bad dad jokes and have insane glasses prescriptions.”

“Is that how you see me?” he asks with a laugh, pretending to pull away. “God, March, that cuts deep. My prescription isn’t that crazy, and I think you’ll find I can read Latin far better than I can speak it, gratias tibi valde.”

“I’m gonna take a wild punt based on the one word of Spanish that I know and guess that gratias means thanks, and you’re welcome. I speak the truth.”

He grins. “I am well aware of that.”

When we make it back to the campsite, Sam actually sags with relief and exhales a heavy sigh when he spies us, striding across the dry grass to meet us.

“Guys! What have I said about wandering off? Nobody had a clue where you were,” he chastises, letting his hair out of its bun and retying it. I try to read the situation and I figure he’s not actually mad.

“You said we always have to be in twos,” I say. “I know my maths is pretty shit but one, two.” I point at myself and then Arjun. “Technically, you broke your own rule by sending Carrie out to find us on her own.”

“Hey. Don’t throw my own rules back in my face,” he says with a wagging finger. He’s frowning but there’s no proper anger in his eyes. “Are you guys ok?” He scans us, his eyes lingering on me, and I can feel him searching for some new injury or other. He won’t find one – I’ve been careful since I sprained my ankle, and while it’ll be a couple of weeks before it’s back to normal, I can hobble on it for now.

“Where’d you go? Are you hurt?” he asks. What a surprise.

I spread out my arms, managing to stand without Arjun’s assistance. “Do I look hurt?”

Sam frowns. “Well, you’re limping and you have the remains of a head injury,” he says, “so I suppose you’re in better shape than ever.”

“We’re ok; we just went to the water. No injuries obtained.” I put my hand to my head and touch Togo, snagging my nail on the edge of the scab and accidentally peeling it. Arjun bats my hand away.

“Stop it. You’ll scar.”

“Aren’t scars supposed to be sexy?”

“Oh, yeah, nothing sexier than a Togo-shaped scar in the middle of your forehead,” he drawls. “Got any others that look like specific countries? The more obscure, the better; that really gets me going.”

I’m fairly certain he’s joking but I twist my arm around to show him two old chicken pox scars near the back of my elbow. “I always thought this looked kind of like New Zealand. And I’m pretty sure you could map half the world on my ribs.”

He throws up his hands and looks to the sky and says, “Oh, god, take me now.”

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Sam says, reining in a grimace. “Whatever weird shit you two are into, that’s fine, but if you could pack up your tent while you’re kinking each other out, that would be great.” 

We make short work of packing everything away. Or rather, Arjun is speedy and efficient when it comes to clearing all our crap out of our tent and while he sets to work taking down the poles and the canvas, I sit outside and sort our stuff into our respective bags. He’s pretty neat, everything rolled and folded tight so it fits like a tetris puzzle. Once upon a time, I was a tidy kid, but I’ve lost patience over the past decade. Now I’ve adopted my dad’s method of shove it where it fits and worry about it later.

All too soon, we’re back in the van and when the door’s shut, Sam twists in his seat and says, “Savour this moment, folks. This is our last big drive.”

His words are a sledgehammer to my chest. I hate the thought of this being over. As much as I miss my family, I don’t want to go home and say goodbye to this trip. I didn’t even realise how much I needed it until I started it, and I have no idea what comes next.

At the thought of my family, I realise that I’ve yet to tell Flo about the latest development with the fish and me. She has no idea that we kissed two days ago – and she will never get more detail than that – and something tells me that when I do tell her, she’ll be upset that she didn’t know sooner.

Five minutes down the road, trundling off on our way to San Francisco, Young-mi slips her seatbelt under her arm and turns in her seat to face us.

“Are you ok?” she asks. Her question is directed at Arjun, her eyes huge and full of sorrow as she stares into his soul with that piercing gaze of hers. “Your eyes are red; you look upset.”

“I’m ok,” he says. “I got my A-level results and I didn’t get into my first choice university, and I was a bit miffed but I’m fine now.”

“You are sure?”

“I’m sure, I promise.” He gives her a soft, slightly muted version of his winning smile. “It’s a sign from the universe that Cambridge isn’t for me – if I had got in, it’d probably be by the skin of my teeth and I’d struggle as the dumbest person in every class.”

“Never. You are not dumb, not even tiny bit,” Young-mi says, “but you are right, the universe gives signs. Sometimes second choice is best choice.” She glances at me and smiles when she says, “My first choice was Harvard but I did not get in. If I did, I would not be here. So I think second choice is very good sometimes.”
She has a simple way with words that really speaks to me, cutting through the bullshit with her honesty. I swear she has a knack for finding the heart of an issue and caressing it back to life.

“Thank fuck you didn’t get into Harvard,” I say. She grins.

“The universe wanted me to meet you.”

Arjun holds up a finger. “Or, maybe...” he says conspiratorially, “the universe wanted you to meet Klara.”
Young-mi blushes. She smiles and glances away, and rolls her eyes when she looks back at me. “The universe,” she begins, speaking slowly, “wanted to give me my first kiss, and my new friends. And many memories.”

*

The third time my phone buzzes in my pocket, halfway to San Francisco, I slip it out and pull down my notifications to see three messages from my little sister. A twinge of guilt pangs in my chest. It hasn’t been long since we last spoke, but a lot has happened since then and she may just be my twelve-year-old sister, but I’ve got into the habit of sharing with her. I feel bad for my silence.

FLO: maaaaarrcchhhhh how are you how is your trip? You;ll be home soon!!!! How is the fish? Have you cast out your fishing line yet?? I want pics from san francisco & i know mum and dad do too.

FLO: dad said you hurt your ankle and hit your head. Are you ok?? I hope arrjun is looking after you

FLO: *arjun oops i promise i know how to spell his name. Also CONGRATULATIONS ABOUT YOUR GRADES!!! YOU DID AWESOME I AM VERY PROUD OF YOU!!!!!! P.s. if you decide you wanna go to uni now, can you go to callaghan so you can still live at home? I think 3 years is too long to be away

The tone of her messages puts a smile on my face, knowing that she’s not upset and she hasn’t heard about Arjun and me second-hand from Dad. I’m about to start typing a reply when another two messages fly into my inbox and I’m stunned.

The first is a photo of this group sitting around the Yosemite campfire a few hours after our first kiss, when I’m lying against Arjun with my freshly-sprained ankle up on a chair, and he has an easy hand draped over my waist.

The second is a crazy, misspelled message from Flo.

FLO: MARCCH WHTA IS THIS??!?!?! ARE YUO A COUPLE OR SOMETHINGG??? WHAT ARRE YOU NOT TELLIGN?> ME?? OMGGG YOU GURS LOOK SO CUT E pls tell me you told him you lik him. If you dindt ten you nEED TO BC LOOK AT HOW HES LOOKIGN AT YOU omg can i meet him when youre home i really wanan meet hiim

All I can think is where the hell did she get that photo? I am way behind on posting travel pics and it’s been a while since I sent any to my family. I didn’t even take that photo considering I’m in it, and I know Arjun didn’t either.

That’s when I notice the name and the date near the bottom of the picture: it’s a screenshot from Facebook that says Klara Maria Meier and Yesterday at 12:21.

“Klara!” I call out. She’s a few rows in front and whips around with a ready smile.

“March!” she yells. “What can I help you with?”

“Have you been posting photos on Facebook? And does your Facebook account have zero privacy settings?”

“That sounds like me!” she says. Then her face falls. Before Sam can protest, she undoes her seatbelt and scampers back to Young-mi’s row, dropping down on the seat in front of Arjun. “Oh. Do you not like your photos online? I can take down any that you’re in.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” I say. “I just wasn’t expecting this.”

I show her the screen with Flo’s messages – the photo and her overexcited response to it. Klara looks confused for a moment before her face clears and she laughs a tinkling laugh.

“Oh! This is your little sister, right?”

“Yes.”

“She misses you and she ships you and Arjun and she stalked everyone on this trip and found my photos,” she says, unable to stop her growing grin.

“Yes.”

“Oh, March, I think I like your little sister,” she says. I have to grab my phone from her before she can scroll back over our messages. Arjun leans over and peers at my screen and he grins as he nudges my side.

“Flo’s right, we are rather cute in that photo,” he says, clicking it and zooming in on us. Klara’s captured a moment when I’m staring at the fire and Arjun’s looking down at me, my head on his chest and his legs around me. Flo’s right. He is looking at me quite adoringly.

“I have to ask, though,” he continues, “why does she call me the fish?”

I cringe and glance at him through a wince. “When I came here, she joked that there are plenty more fish in the sea and told me to go and catch one. And you’re Pisces.”

“How does she know I’m Pisces?”

“Because I told her.”

He’s giving me a funny look, like he’s slightly amused. “Why’d you tell her?”

“She asked.”

He pokes me, gently. “Why?”

“She wanted to see if we’re compatible,” I say with a faint blush, “and before you ask another question, yes, Pisces and Scorpio are very compatible.”

He quirks his eyebrows at me, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. “Oh really? Is that why you asked me my star sign within three hours of meeting? How long have you been sitting on that nugget of information?”

“Quite a while,” I have to admit. “A good ... fourteen years.”

He chuckles and says, “Ah, you’ve been playing the long game. I see how it is.”

“What can I say?” I shrug. “I used to be an astrology nerd. And even if it’s all bollocks, they got this right. As far as I can tell, we’re very compatible.”

Young-mi perks up a little and sits straighter. “Do you still know astrology?” she asks. “The star signs, yes? What goes with Aquarius?”

I should have known she’s an Aquarius; it makes me smile. “Quite a few,” I say. “You’re a very compatible sign. The best are probably Gemini, Libra and Sagittarius; the worst is Taurus.”

I don’t miss the way Young-mi glances at Klara, whose bright eyes are fixed on me. She beams and pokes a thumb at her chest and with a laugh, she says, “I’m Taurus.”

Young-mi pouts. Klara winks.

“Your astrology is bullshit, March,” Klara says. She glances at Young-mi and wiggles her eyebrows. “We were pretty compatible last night.”

“Oh my god!” I cry out as a surprised laugh bursts out of Arjun. Young-mi throws a hand over Klara’s mouth, her cheeks burning bright red, but Klara’s chuckling. I’m not sure what to think. I’m not entirely sure what went down between them but ... damn.

“Filthy terrors,” Arjun jokes, as though he can talk considering how we spent our night.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” Klara says with a shrug. “It’s all part of the girl code, helping each other out and all that.” She throws an arm around Young-mi’s shoulders and kisses her cheek and says, “Any time, babe. Well ... any time in the next two days.”

Young-mi’s lips succumb to gravity. “I don’t want everyone to go.”

“You’re welcome in Basel any time you want, if you ever find yourself in Switzerland,” Klara says. “You two, too. If you ever do that European road trip - and survive – you need to swing by.”

As everyone exchanges similar invitations and promises, I catch Young-mi’s eye and I give her a look that I hope says as soon as we’re out of this van, I need all the details. It seems to translate, because she holds back a smile and presses her lips together with a slight nod.

She turns around, pressing herself against the window, and my phone buzzes a minute later with a Facebook message from her that reads we will talk later.

Later, when we’re in San Francisco. When we reach our final destination. One step closer to all of this coming to an end.

*

The music has been great so far, this time curated by Sam from one of his many playlists. He’s done this a million times over; he knows the songs that fit the moment and he knows exactly which tunes work best for the home straight.

But then the music fades and so do our voices, and I see why. We passed through Richmond, crossed over the bay to Mill Valley; now we’re in Sausalito. Ahead of us, just peeking through the fog, is the Golden Gate Bridge.

My breath hitches at the sight. I clutch Arjun’s thigh and crane forward as though an extra couple of inches will give me a better view of the bridge we’re heading for. Two immensely tall red towers stretch into the hazy sky, gigantic cables swooping down between them in a huge half-moon above a road that spans a mile across the San Francisco Bay.

Holy fucking shit. We’re here.

Flo sends me another text, yelling at me for reading her messages and not replying, but she’ll have to wait because I don’t have any words left right now. They’ve all flown out the window, replaced by wide eyes and a dropped jaw, a gormless expression as I finally lay my eyes on San Francisco.

Beyond the bridge, which we’re about to cross, a triangular skyscraper literally scrapes the sky, its tip piercing the fog. Sam reels off facts and figures as we drive, spilling names of buildings – the triangle is the Transamerica Pyramid – and the length of the bridge – just about a mile – but most of it goes in one ear and out the other.

We’re on the bridge, driving slowly along a suspended mile beneath the iconic red structures, and all I can do is gawp at the water below and the city ahead and Arjun beside me. I clutch his hand in mine, probably too tightly, and I struggle to take in everything around me. The rush of traffic on the bridge; the piers around the edge of the city; the blob in the sea that is Alcatraz.

It’s a lot. Compared to everything we’ve seen so far, I guess it’s probably not that much, but it seems so much more because it’s the end. There are no more sights after this. No more driving, no more national parks, no more rivers and lakes and tents. It’s the end.

I remain in a state of speechless wonder until Sam pulls into a car park at the other end of the bridge. He hops out and slides open the door to let us out, and he nods for us to follow him. We head down a tourist-packed road and onto a dirt path, and the view is spectacular.

“Wow,” Arjun says. He’s holding my hand and he tightens his grip, just a little, and he turns to grin at me. We’re far from that little shop in the Grand Canyon now: we’re in San Francisco, where we can be together and hold hands like it’s no big deal; nobody cares when he kisses me, and I snap out of my awe to kiss him back.

Before us, the Golden Gate Bridge rises out of flowers, spanning over the glittering water. The spot is the perfect photo opportunity, with the bay down below and the bridge to the left and Alcatraz to the right, boats bobbing on the water; around us, countless tourists are posing for selfies and group pictures.

Sam stands in front of us and he stretches out his arms, one of the bridge’s towers seeming to rise from between his hands. He grins, blue eyes sparkling and  blonde hair whipping in his face in the sea breeze coming off the Pacific coast. He throws back his head, unafraid of the attention he garners when he yells.

“Welcome to San Francisco!”

*

while the trip itself may be coming to an end, there are still at least 12 chapters to go! unfortunately i've had a very slow week or so of writing so there won't be any weekend updates this week. see you on monday!