Chapter Text
***
Miles to NYC: 3,507
***
“Are you ready, Mija?”
That’s a complicated question, Amy Santiago thinks, looking, for the last time in what will be a long while, at her childhood home. She decides to go for the simplified answer.
“Yeah, mom, I’ve got everything.” She glances briefly at the backpack and the duffle bag stuffed in between her feet.
Her mother smiles knowingly, and rubs her daughter’s shoulder, grazing her thumb comfortingly over the planes of the side of her collarbone, bare above the neckline of an old boat-neck sweater. The familiar smell of an expensive perfume drifts over, probably Chanel, now Amy thinks of it- perhaps it wouldn’t be noticeable to her if she wasn’t about to leave her mother for the first time for more than a couple of weeks for a summer camp.
“I meant to leave.” She says gently.
“I know,” Amy says, smiling half-heartedly.
The truth is, she’s never been more certain that she’s not ready for something. She’d know- though the countless checklists and information packets, not to mention the truck full of her stuff waiting at her grandmother’s place in Portland, might tell her she most certainly is ready to start her first year of college, the lingering concoction of nerves and anxiety is telling her otherwise.
She worked so hard to get here. She’s dreamed - no, literally - of this moment, finally leaving her home, finally stepping out into the world, satisfied at last knowing the work she put into her senior year has paid off, and although it sounds bad, she knows it’s true: she feels genuinely underwhelmed.
“Okay, my love, let’s go. Give them a wave!” Amy’s mom nods to the seven male family members standing outside their house- six of her seven brothers, and her father. In an awkward little formation, they stand watching her about to go; her two younger brothers, Daniel and Edgar, are fidgeting, poking each other whenever their father isn’t looking, while most of her older brothers, Hugo, Luis, and Rafael, stand chatting and waiting for the car to pull out of the drive. All aside from Marco, that is, whose eyes are glued to his phone. Amy would bet anything he’s talking to a girl.
As the sound of the car starting fills their front yard, they all spring to life – apart from Marco, who duly receives a shove from Luis – and begin waving, pulling faces, and shouting their goodbyes. Amy can’t help but smile at the image of her family waving goodbye. She’d never admit it out loud, but something small inside her, perhaps her young self, is loving having all the attention on her – she’s a middle child, as well as the only girl. Every day of her life she’s fought for attention.
“Bye!” She shouts out of the window, waving, then sticks her tongue out at Edgar, who she notices is doing the same to her.
“Don’t take anything those crazy New Yorkers offer you!” Luis shouts back.
“Unless it’s free!” Hugo yells, accompanied by a wink, grinning cheekily as Marco and Rafael laugh along with him. Luis rolls his eyes, but can’t hold back his smile, shooting Amy a knowing look.
Perhaps it’s because this is just the drive from Albany to Portland, but she feels like it should be bigger than this. As they pull out of the drive and, finally, out of sight of her home, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, and clicks open the lock screen, looking quickly at the picture she’s had as her background for the last six months: the New York City skyline. It’s slightly obscured by one outstanding text message:
Kylie - now
have fun, Ames! I love you
❤
(also, rate roadtrip dude /10 when you meet him pls ok thanks)
She smiles and swipes the message away, reminding herself to reply in a minute or two. For now, all she wants to look at is New York.
It’s cheesy. It’s every cliché rolled into one. And she knows it. Amy has dreamed of NYC since she was a young teenager and indulged in several rom-coms (and, for a brief stint in 9th grade, the Gossip Girl books), taking in promises of the exciting city life; millions of diverse, passionate, friendly people, parties, not to mention all the art, theatre, and literature she can absorb concentrated into one place- and, thus, the location of her first-choice college, NYU.
Her teachers warned her that she might not get in. It’s competitive, Amy. You’ll have to really work for it. You mustn’t take it personally if you don’t get in.
So, she worked. Harder than she’s ever worked for anything. And she got it. And in that moment, opening her acceptance letter, she knew that these horrendous years of high school didn’t really matter, because this was what she was meant for; a place where she could enjoy her work and meet like-minded people, every day.
And yet, as their car pulls onto the freeway, her mother requesting her favourite CD to be put into the stereo- “Would you mind, Mija? The one your father gave me for my birthday”, Amy can’t help but worry things aren’t going to change.
***
Isabel’s CD #1 – Albany to Portland
feliz cumplea
ños, mi amor!
‘te amo desde lo más profundo de mi alma.’ ♥
Some of our early favourites…
I Think We’re Alone Now – Tiffany
Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds
You Spin Me Round – Dead or Alive
Bidi Bidi Bom Bom – Selena
Heart of Glass - Blondie
I Feel Love – Donna Summer
Tainted Love – Soft Cell
(turn cover over for more!)
***
Amy watches her mother bop around in her seat to Donna Summer, still equally as astounded by her mother and father’s shared taste in music as she was when her father first gifted her mother this CD, several years back, and she’d watched them dance out every single song in their kitchen.
Her mom maintains that, in her own words, “half the reason” she married Victor Santiago was his ability to pick any song and get her dancing. For the most part, Amy finds it incredibly sweet; in her mother she sees a part of herself she has yet to experience- she’s never known a woman more in love, even now, and yet so hardworking and strong. On the other hand, some of their routines have become close to choreographed (see: Don’t You Want Me by the Human League), which, at a family event, without sneaking a few sips of her grandmother’s whisky, can be, in Amy’s experience, a little embarrassing.
“How are you feeling? You’re very quiet,” her mother says, the tone of concern in her voice stirring Amy’s nerves.
“I’m okay, Mom.” Her mother doesn’t respond- her cue to explain herself. “I’m a little nervous, I guess.”
“You’re going to love it. And you get a nice road trip before you go, with Jacob.”
Amy’s heart sinks. She’d not thought about that – that being the 21 year-old boy she’s not seen in just over a decade driving her to New York – for a good ten minutes.
“He barely knows me, mom,” she can’t help but moan, “I feel bad making him drive me across the country.”
“You’re friends!”
“We played together as children, Mom. That’s very loose framework for friendship.”
Her mother tuts, flicking Amy’s knee.
“Amy, you were friends. For a year or two, whenever we’d come up to visit my mother, you’d ask to see him.”
“Which I imagine became highly embarrassing for him when he was thirteen or fourteen and I was still knocking at his door asking him to play.” She cringes at the memory of it, vaguely recollecting her 9-year-old excitement at the prospect of seeing her friend.
“It was sweet. Plus, it’s no sweat off his back – he’s going back to college too.”
“I know, Mom.” She tries not to snap, but on top of the nerves, she’s now thinking about the three or four days she’ll have to spend with this boy, who’d probably rather do anything else than sit in a vehicle with her, as if this whole situation wasn’t awkward and daunting enough already-
“Would you like to pick some music?”
Amy’s heart warms for her mom- she can tell she’s picking up on her nerves. Picking the music in the Santiago car is a rare treat.
“That’s okay, I like your music,” she says, but her mother makes a noise of disapproval, so she fiddles with the CDs in the door of the car until she finds something she thinks she’ll like.
“Here,” she says, popping a 90s: Greatest Hits CD out of its case and sliding it into the CD player.
Music hums softly around them, stifled slightly from the few bags and boxes in the back of the car that have yet to be transferred into the moving truck.
“Amy?”
“Yes, mom?”
“Everything will be fine. What is meant to be will be. I promise.”
Amy swallows thickly, but part of her relaxes.
In the pit of her stomach, she swears she even feels the spark of someone sincerely excited.
***
“Abuela!” Amy throws her arms around her grandmother, who chuckles softly as she enjoys embracing her granddaughter for the first time in months.
Since she can remember, Amy has been conscious of how small this woman is, her small frame and her age exacerbating just how little she looks, totally contrasting her huge personality; a fiery, fiercely patriotic and excitable woman who told her grandchildren stories of romance and excitement from her younger days, every time she’d have them to visit.
“Amy, come in, come in, darling,” she pulls away, “one last drink with your grandmother before you go to college!”
“Mom,” Isabel moans, conscious of her mother’s attempts to introduce Amy to a new alcoholic beverage every time she’s visited since she turned sixteen. “Amy’s about to hit the road.”
“I know, I know, but we are celebrating!” She hurries into her kitchen, followed by the other two. “Champagne?”
“Why not?” Amy smiles. If it goes to her head quick enough, perhaps she’ll find this whole ordeal a little easier on her head.
“That’s the spirit! Come through, come through,” she says, guiding them through the house. “You can join my new drinking partner,” she says. Amy and her mother look to each other immediately, stopping in their tracks. After Amy’s grandfather had passed away they’d worried about her giving in to buying a pet she couldn’t take care of- for a while she’d spoken about getting a whole litter of puppies.
“Drinking partner, Abuela?” Amy asks carefully, beginning to follow her again largely out of worry.
But she needn’t have asked: sat at the kitchen table, with a bottle of beer in front of him, quite happily surveying his surroundings, is Jake Peralta.
A much taller, much more grown-up looking Jake Peralta.
The chaotic dark curls she can remember sitting in a dark mop over his ten-year-old face are no more, his hair now in a short, wavy cut on his head. His jaw is slightly shaded by stubble, and he’s about a thousand times taller than when she last saw him. It sounds silly to her, in her head, but all she can think is that he’s a grown-up; his shoulders are broader, his body firmer and bulkier (just, manlier, Amy realises), and, perhaps most notably, he’s not dressed in that huge oversized Nakatomi Plaza shirt he was obsessed with when he was little. She remembers that clearly, the symbol with its three central circles engrained permanently in her mind.
“Jacob! Wow,” Isabel says, as soon as she sees him. “As if I didn’t feel old enough already,” she says, chuckling, to her mother, taking a small glass of champagne from her outstretched hand.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs Santiago,” he says, standing up and holding out an arm to her, shaking her hand. “Is Amy here yet?”
“Yup, present,” Amy stammers, laughing awkwardly and stepping out from behind her mother in the doorway. His face changes when he sees her, into what she thinks is shock. “Hi.” She manages.
“Hey,” he says, “you look very different to how I remember you.” His smile is warm, genuinely friendly, the kind that makes you feel immediately at ease.
This might not be so difficult after all.
“Ditto,” she says, trying not to think about the fact that it’s the first time she’s ever said the word ‘ditto’, and takes the glass of champagne from her grandmother’s hand, sipping at it eagerly.
“Yeah, I, uh… I’m sorry I’m so early- I went to the hire place to insure myself on the truck, and there were so few people there they basically tossed me the keys as soon as I walked in.”
“Right,” Amy says shyly, half-relieved he seems like a decent dude and half-desperate she could think of literally anything to say.
They all stand in silence for a beat, Amy and Jake observing each other for a moment, before her grandmother steps in.
“Come through and we can go over your trip,” she says, walking into the small sun room backing onto her kitchen.
“Firstly, sweetheart- you’re definitely happy you know how to drive the truck?” Isabel asks as they all settle themselves in the little wicker chairs with which Amy’s grandmother has managed to fill this small conservatory.
“Yeah,” Amy replies, as though it’s obvious. She shifts in her seat uneasily at the thought of her mother and grandmother babying her in front of Jake for the next half an hour. Or perhaps that’s just a bit of the chair sticking into her butt.
“Now, I know you’re buying food, but I have packed a little something for you,”
“Oh, no, that’s okay-” Amy starts, but it’s too late- her grandmother has picked up a large basket and thrust it onto her lap.
“I even made sure there’s space in your truck. Your friend helped me.” She smiles proudly at Jake as she starts to go through the basket.
Jake smiles apologetically at Amy, clearly trying to hide his amusement.
“I’ve packed some essentials, in case you are stuck,” she explains, gesturing to a few packets of crackers, big blankets, and some bottles of water. She can’t see exactly, but Amy swears she can make out small candles, a torch, matches, and extra batteries. Pretty safe to say that her organisational skills have trickled down from her mother’s side. “How long are you driving?”
“Shouldn’t take us more than five days or so, if we stay on track,” Jake says, “I’ve already mapped out our best bets for motels and pit stops. You don’t need to worry. I’ve done the drive a couple times before, too, so it’s familiar.”
Amy can’t help it- her insides go warm, even if only for a second. Not only is he tall, pretty good-looking, and friendly, but he’s planned it all out. She fidgets awkwardly with the top of her mom jeans, trying to distract herself, making sure her sweater is tucked in neatly.
“Wonderful. And then you’ll have a few days to explore the city! I’m so excited for you, my love, your Abuelo and I met in Brooklyn…” She smiles longingly. Amy chuckles softly.
“Julian’s going to let me crash at his, depending on how early we are.”
“Julian? Oh, is that your brother?” Jake asks.
“Yeah, he has a place on the Upper West Side with his wife.” She explains politely.
“Oh, cool, so they’ll never be too far from campus if you need them, that’s useful,” Jake chatters.
“Of course, I almost forgot… this is your fourth trip back to NYU, right?” Isabel asks him warmly, glossing over her mother’s musings.
“Yeah.”
“Wow, senior year, huh?”
“Mom,” Amy interjects, smiling, only too aware of the way Jake’s about to be interrogated by her mother. Isabel tuts. Jake chuckles.
“Yeah, final year.”
“Exciting. Your major?”
“Philosophy and Politics.” He barely hesitates before he replies. Amy can relate to that immediacy, relaying information about your school, about your future, to questioning adults. “Essentially just talking about what’s right and wrong a lot and pretending I know the difference between about forty different old white dudes and their ideas.”
“Sounds great,” Isabel snickers, “well- I won’t hassle you about it anymore, but I will say good luck in your last year.” She smiles warmly.
“Thank-you, Mrs Santiago.”
“Please, Isabel. Oh, that reminds me,” she starts, putting her hand on his arm. “You have my number, yes? And my husband’s? Just in case.”
“Already saved in my phone.”
“That’s what I like to hear.” She sits back, satisfied. “You’ll both have a great time.” Amy knows she means well, but she can’t help but cringe a littlee- even here she feels like she’s being babied. Her mom has always had a soft spot for her, her only daughter, and while it mostly means she’s at an advantage, it also means her mom is, and has always been, incredibly protective.
Amy knows that, ultimately, she’s been no threat to that protectiveness as a teenager, certainly not in comparison to her brothers- Kylie was the only visitor she’s ever actually had in the house and she was almost as introverted as her.
She has a suspicion that her mother has been, secretly, quite grateful for Kylie’s tendency to encourage Amy out and into the world, during these last few years; she made it clear to Amy that she believed every teenager should have their share of stupid mistakes and life experiences, and were it not for Kylie, Amy might not have stumbled home so drunk she could hardly see after a homecoming party in her Senior year, so hungover the next morning she couldn’t even muster the energy to organise her bedroom. She might not have met a boy and been notably angsty for a day when, as she would later tell her mother, he stopped texting her back. She might not have gone to prom- even if it was, technically, as a chaperone- were it not for Kylie.
“Let’s raise a glass to Amy,” Isabel pipes up, gazing at her daughter, unable to wash away the pride evoked by the nostalgia seeping in and out of her head.
“Maybe even more than a glass,” her grandmother starts, giggling mischievously.
“Abuela,” Amy responds, her cheeks flushing as she smiles.
“I’m so proud. I just know you’ll have such a marvellous time. Plus, this champagne was just short of forty dollars, and I don’t want to waste it.”
“To Amy,” Isabel says proudly.
***
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TOTAL (INCL. TAX) $66.35
THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING NEW SEASONS
***
“You’re certain you have everything?” Isabel asks for the third time, brushing her daughter’s hair behind her ear. Her heart aches at how grown-up she looks, leaning against the door of the truck, about to go.
“Yes, mom. I promise.” Amy smiles, touched by the sadness she picks up on in her mother’s voice. “It’s okay, before you know it I’ll be home visiting.” She pulls her into a hug, squeezing her tight. “I love you.”
“I love you too. So much.” Her mother’s voice is muffled in her hair. “Amy, will you promise me something?”
They pull away, but her mother keeps brushing through her hair with her fingers, the way she did when she was a little girl.
“What is it?”
Isabel hesitates, as though contemplating what she’s about to say, but clears her throat to speak anyway.
“Take risks. Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself.” She smiles at Amy’s slightly confused reaction. “You can’t prepare for everything, and that’s okay. Exciting, even.”
“Okay, mom,” Amy says, smiling knowingly, but her mom stops her.
“I mean it.” She looks into her daughter’s eyes intently. Amy nods once, sincerely, before her mom pulls her into one final hug. “Now go. Have fun. Update me!”
“I will,” Amy says, opening the door to the truck and hauling her backpack into the leg room in front of her seat, before giving her mom one more smile – and a quick wave to her grandmother, who’s standing in the front door – and climbing into the passenger seat.
Something young in her feels so grown-up in the front of a 12ft moving truck. Finally, she thinks, a bit of excitement setting in. It’s real now.
“Ooookay,” comes Jake’s voice as he swings into the driver’s seat. “Ready?” He flashes that reassuring smile again.
“Yes. I’m ready.”
And though she doesn’t know it yet, part of her really, truly means it.
Jake turns the ignition and the truck rumbles to life around her. Immediately, she puts the window down, waving goodbye to her mom and her grandmother, both standing in the entrance of the house. For a moment, she swears her mother is tearing up.
“Bye! I love you!” She yells out of the window as the truck turns out onto the road, and finally pulls away down her grandma’s street and onto the main road. “Hey.”
Jake glances over at her.
“What’s up?”
“Just… hey. I know we didn’t really get to talk over my mom and my grandma – sorry for that, by the way-”
“Oh, no,” he cuts in quickly, “they’re both so nice, seriously, don’t worry. Plus, I mean, I’ve lived next to your grandparents my whole life, so it’s not like I don’t know her.”
“Right. I keep forgetting-”
“Do you want-”
“Oh, sorry,” Amy stumbles, both of them smiling awkwardly at their stunted communication. “What were you going to say?”
“Oh, I was just going to ask if you wanted to put some music on. Official role of the passenger seat.”
“Right, I mean… yeah, I guess.” She fiddles with the stereo for a moment. “Does this have an aux cord?”
“Nope, I think it’s radio or CDs.”
“Oh, right. That’s fine, I’m not really big on music, we can just use the radio-”
“Woah, woah, woah.” He stops her. “You’re not ‘big’ on music?”
“No, I guess not,” she says, a little sensitively. “I was raised on almost entirely 70s and 80s music and I just kind of know whatever songs are popular from whatever’s on the radio.”
“Oh dear,” he says, his mouth splaying into a smug grin, “we are gonna have to deal with that.”
“I’m surprised you’re not just glad you can pick whatever music you want,” she laughs half-heartedly. “What, did you bring CDs with you?”
“We’re gonna be driving, non-stop, for like, four, five days. Obviously I brought CDs.” He looks over at her, eyes narrowed a little, as though it’s the most evident thing in the world. She folds her arms inadvertently, feeling her defiance stir again. “Check the compartment in front of you.”
She clicks open the glove compartment, and, sure enough, inside is a large black CD case, just like her dad’s, as well as about a hundred stray CDs and albums littered around inside.
“It looks like the Music section of a Best Buy threw up in here. Then had children, which also threw up in here.” She mutters.
To her surprise, he laughs.
“Take the big black book, pick a mix.”
“A mix?” She can’t keep the mocking tone out of her voice.
“Shut up,” he quips back, still smiling at the road ahead. “Those first few parts of the CD book are basically just hard copies of my shuffled up Spotify library, then I’ve got actual playlists – since you don’t like the word ‘mix’ – towards the back.”
She picks the first CD she sees. On the back, scrawled in sharpie, are the names of at least 12 songs.
Jake #1
Ruby – Kaiser Chiefs
Busy Earnin’ – Jungle
How Good Does it Feel – Empires
She’s Got You High – Mumm-ra
Late At Night – Joy Room
Houdini – Foster the People
Read My Mind – The Killers
The Bends – Radiohead
Reptilia – The Strokes
Dreams – The Cranberries
Tuesday – Hippo Campus
No Hope – The Vaccines
“This must have taken forever,” she says as she pushes the CD into the player and closes the book on her lap. “Oh, hey, I know this one!” She enthuses as the first song comes on.
“Yeah, so do most people in the English-speaking world.” He can’t keep his grin off his face. “I can’t believe you’re not into music,” he mutters again, teasingly this time.
“Okay, let me elaborate, I’m into music, everyone’s into music, I just don’t have actual playlists or CDs.” She surveys the tracklist of each CD. “Could these get any more indie?”
“They’re what I listen to! Wait, okay, so what do you listen to when you work out?”
“I don’t really work out. I swim sometimes.”
“Studying?”
“I work best when it’s silent.”
“Wild,” he mutters. Perhaps it’s a reflex from growing up with seven annoying brothers, but she has to restrain herself from hitting him. “Okay, what about in your spare time?”
She thinks.
“I like podcasts, I guess?”
“Okay,” he says, as if he’s processing how that could even be a viable option.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she distracts herself for a little while, still irritated and grateful for the lull in conversation. No emails- apart from all the latest ones from NYU flagged and sitting at the top of her inbox- and no notifications, aside from a couple of likes on her mom’s Facebook status about her leaving. A guilty pang reminds her she still needs to reply to Kylie, so she pulls up their conversation.
Thank you, Kyle ❤
She almost smiles to herself- she can picture Kylie’s reaction, reading her least favourite nickname.
He’s okay. A little annoying, but nice. Solid 6/10. I’ll update you. X
Almost immediately, a reply pops up.
6/10???? R u kidding? That’s incredible for a Santiago rating. Ur super judge-y
I’m not judgemental, Kylie, the only boys we’ve ever dealt with have all been dicks. Jake’s older- that’s an instant maturity bonus point.
She looks over at him, bopping in his seat, humming along to the song, pulling faces at a dog in the back of the car in front.
Plus, she types, there’s always time for that point to be revoked.
… u told me u thought alex henderson was a 3 at best. He’s the hottest dude we know
& do update me if the rating changes x
Amy sighs.
Can’t I just NOT rate people? It’s integrally mean.
Boooooorrriiiiiinnnggg
Okay listen I have to get back to work otherwise that super rude shift manager (I actually think he’s called Griffin?! Like, not as a joke) will kill me, have fun tho!!
Also update me as the trip goes on, I want to hear it all!!! Love u
Smiling to herself, she puts her phone back into her pocket.
“Texting your boyfriend?” He sounds amused.
“Huh?”
“You’re grinning at your phone, it’s either nudes or someone you really like.” He looks at her momentarily, raising his eyebrows expectantly.
“It’s my friend, Kylie,” she says. He nods, his mouth frowning in a way that almost reads as not bad. That defiance stirs up inside her again- is he holding back the urge to make fun of her? It sure as hell feels like it.
She watches him tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the rhythm of the music as they come to a set of traffic lights. He’s got virtually nothing with him- all his stuff for college has been loaded into the back of the truck, but the only other thing aside from his phone and wallet that he seems to have brought with him is a pack of gum, which sits on the dashboard in front of the speedometer. In an instant, she realises what’s missing, and her stomach drops so hard she almost feels heavier in her seat.
“The map! You forgot the map!”
He jumps in his seat, looking extremely startled at her.
“I don’t… have a map,” he says, as if it’s obvious.
“You… what?”
“I don’t have a map.”
“But… back at my grandma’s… you said-”
“I’m about to drive their child over 3000 miles away from them, I wasn’t going to let them think I was guessing.”
“You’re guessing?” Amy almost shudders.
“Well, not completely, I mean, I’ve done this a few times.”
An odd pause falls between them.
“What, so you don’t have their numbers, either?”
“Actually, I do. I’m not an idiot, I just happen to know this drive pretty well.” He says defensively.
“It’s not a drive, Jake, it’s a long-ass road trip and I need to know, specifically, where we’re going.” He looks over at her, his face screwed up, like something smells bad. “Next gas station we see we’re pulling in and buying a road atlas.” She says firmly, her nerves bubbling up again.
“Woah, fine.”
They fall into a tense silence. Amy feels a little bad, given that they’ve barely been on the road an hour and they’ve already pissed each other off, but at the same time doesn’t want to apologise- why should she? Being ready is important, and this is the most important trip she’ll take all year.
“I guess you’re still pretty into organisation then, huh.” His voice eventually comes a few minutes later, cautious, a little amused. She can’t help the irritation his teasing tone stirs in her.
“Still?”
“Don’t you remember?”
She shakes her head. He just laughs.
“When you were, like, seven, you’d refuse to play anything until you’d rearranged that big toy box in the corner of my room.” He smiles over at her. “My mom was in love with you- that is, right as soon as I stopped telling her it was me who’d cleaned it so she’d buy me candy.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t remember that,” she sighs, leaning back into her seat. She can picture his childhood bedroom now, the rocket curtains and the dark blue sheets on his bed- and, now he’s mentioned it, a big tub full of toys in the corner of his room. She can’t help but warm to the nostalgia. “I’m sorry for snapping, I’m nervous. It’s a big day.”
“Don’t be silly, you thought I’d planned this trip, and I haven’t. Admittedly, I’ve never known someone who cares so much, but, y’know.” She narrows her eyes. Is this meant to be an apology? “Speaking of which, do you wanna-?” He gestures to a road sign indicating an oncoming gas station.
A mix of guilt and irritation whirs around in her head. A road atlas would be sensible, she thinks. But part of her doesn’t want to seem like that girl, just for once. Plus, he’s done the drive before- how wrong can he go?
“No, it’s okay.” She smiles at him apologetically when he looks over at her. “I trust you.”
“Y’sure?”
“Yeah. Anyway, it’s already, like, four in the afternoon, and we’re going to have to drive through the night. Let’s just get as far as we can before we need dinner.”
“Okay,” he says, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to say something else. In the corner of her eye she can see him glancing over at her. Fleetingly, she even thinks he might be a little impressed.
She relaxes against her headrest, still a little disconcerted by how high the seats feel in comparison to her mom’s car. Out of curiosity, she looks over at Jake, trying to see if he seems annoyed. Since they started driving, she’s had more conversation with him than she’s probably ever had with anybody else in her whole life, apart from Kylie- yet she doesn’t feel like she’s forcing it. However, in this short amount of time, she’s also made fun of his CDs, nagged at him, and forgotten one of the only things he remembers about their young friendship.
They drive in silence for a while, the only noise accounted for by the music from the CD and the as the daylight begins to dim.
“So, any tips?” She asks quietly later, trying not to let the overt awkwardness affect her.
“Tips?”
“Um, NYU. This is your senior year, right?”
“Oh, right. And yeah, it is.”
Another pause.
“It’s okay if you can’t think of anything right now-”
“No, no, it’s just… I’m trying to remember my freshman year and... you know, the things I should have known.”
“Right.”
She watches him think, his brows furrowed as he chews on his lip in thought.
“Oh,” he says, and she almost has to hold herself back from breathing a sigh of relief, just from the sound of someone talking, “Don’t get a fake ID, they never work. You’re better off just paying an older student a few bucks to buy you your alcohol.”
“Oh, okay.”
“And try not to let everyone overwhelm you in the first couple months. Everyone’s showing off because they’re excited, nobody’s actually going to stay that crazy or charismatic. Unless they’re a med grad or basically any science major, those guys are wild.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, they have way more time working because of all those labs and extra seminars- there’s actually this student thing, the Guide Dog theory-”
“A theory?” Amy feels like she should be taking notes.
“Yeah,” he laughs, “so like, you know how guide dogs are trained to be good and work hard all the time? It’s like, the second you take them off the leash, they go absolutely insane.”
Amy giggles.
“Oh god,” he starts, “please don’t say you’re planning on going to med school and I’ve just seriously insulted you.”
“No, no,” she reassures him, “History of Art, actually. Hopefully, anyway.”
“Okay okay okay okay okay, noice noice noice,” he chatters happily. Amy smiles to herself. This dude is really nice, as nice as she remembers him being when they were little, she thinks- anyone else, and she probably would have killed the conversation by now. If she could just stop making it so awkward, that’d be great.
So, for now, she just stays quiet.
Gradually, daylight fades entirely, leaving only the glow of the dashboard, a blend of reds, oranges, and pale yellows from other cars, and, occasionally, the rhythmic passing of streetlights. The music, playing softly underneath it all, seems to fit the calm, Amy thinks.
“I like this song,” she murmurs softly, as the sky darkens and she feels herself becoming weary.
“Of course you do, it’s the Cranberries.”
***
Blacktop Diner
08/20/16 22:41
SERVER: JUSTIN
CHEESEBURGER $5
CHEESEBURGER $5
- XTRA BACON $1.50
FRIES X3 $7.50
SLUSHY LARGE $3
Total $22
Thanks for your visit!
***
Night Drives / Evening Mix / Slow stuff / whatever ((WIP!!))
Just Kiss Her – Concorde
Redbone – Childish Gambino
Dang! – Mac Miller
Someone That Loves You – HONNE
I Wanna Be Yours – Arctic Monkeys
I Still Remember – Bloc Party
Cigarette Daydreams – Cage The Elephant
Out Of My System – Youngr
***
A knock at the window of the truck nearly startles Amy out of her skin. Just below her is Jake, holding two bags, each displaying the token symbol of the diner outside which they’re parked. She opens the door, smiling politely, and takes the bag he offers her.
“Is this-?” Jake tilts his head slightly in response to the music he can hear coming from the stereo.
“Yeah! It even said ‘night drives’ on the cover, so I figured,” she shrugs, grabbing a fry from the bag and putting it in her mouth.
“Well observed, you’re learning,” he says, a hint of friendly sarcasm in his voice. He shuts her door and walks round the front of the truck to his side, climbing into his seat.
“Y’know,” she says through a mouthful of burger, “I know I don’t have like, a definitive taste in music, but from what I’ve seen so far you are definitely above average on the obsessed scale.”
“Okay, I will admit, I am a little too into the whole CD thing. It could be worse, though.”
“Oh?”
“I actually made mixtapes until I was eighteen.”
“No way,” she laughs. “God, just when I thought I was an awkward 18 year old.”
“Hey!”
“No offence, no offence! I just mean, y’know, you seem way more together than me, or, y’know, you’re like, older,” she stammers, caught off guard by the definitely not attractive smile he’s giving her right now, “it’s just encouraging to hear that you’ve got a nerdy obsession, is all I’m saying.”
“God,” he exclaims, a low chuckle escaping him, “I don’t think anybody has ever described me as ‘together’.”
Amy smiles, but can’t help curiosity creeping over her- he really seems surprised at that. She doesn’t know him well enough to ask, not by a long shot. It can wait. “Do you want some slushy?” He offers up a large cup, full to the brim with a swirl of different colours.
“Ew, I’m good, thanks.”
“Ew? Dear God, you don’t like slushies?”
“They’re a thousand red flags, Jake. That’s essentially just a cup full of sugar.”
He pulls a face, something between frowning and looking flat-out disgusted, and goes straight back to sipping it.
“Your loss. I happen to think it’s a fantastic combo,” he says, as if consoling his slushy.
“Call me in five years when you have your first heart attack so I can say ‘I told you so’,” she jibes.
“Gladly,” he mutters.
Out of the corner of her eye, he looks back over at her as she gets back to her food, eyebrows raised, like he can’t decide whether he’s impressed or annoyed by her.
Lazily, she takes another bite out of her burger. It’s been such a long day that, at this point, she’s not sure she really cares what he thinks.
Illuminated only by the parking lot lights, Amy Santiago and Jake Peralta eat, and talk, and argue, for the first time in over ten years.
And when Amy falls asleep in the passenger seat, and music is the only soft sound left, there’s only one truth that whirs around in the air.
Nothing has changed.