Take Me With You Read online

  “That’s it for our list.”

  “I know. But there’s one more thing.”

  “It’s a very comprehensive list.”

  “August . . .”

  “Okay, fine. What’s the thing?”

  “A little bit of Phillip’s ashes. Doesn’t have to be as much as last time. Just some. You didn’t sprinkle all the rest or something, did you?”

  “No, they’re still in an urn over the fireplace. All but what we scattered in Yellowstone.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I’ll need a little plastic bag.”

  “Top kitchen drawer next to the dishwasher.”

  “Be right back.”

  August remained in a sit on the bed, still a bit stunned. Still not entirely adjusted to this sudden turn of events. Every time he tried to sort it out in his head, something outside his head distracted him.

  “Seth,” he called, providing his own distraction this time. “There’s a plastic bag inside the urn. With a twist tie. You might want to undo it in the sink. It tends to get all over.”

  “I know,” Seth called back. “I’ve handled them. Remember?”

  “Right,” August said. But too quietly for Seth to hear.

  Seth appeared in the doorway three or four minutes later. August had actually had time to sort and think. He was closer to understanding that he was going away for the whole summer after all. With the boys.

  Seth leaned a shoulder on the doorframe as August looked up into his wide-open face.

  “I still regret dropping that bottle,” Seth said.

  “I thought you’d let that go.”

  “Shoot, August, I don’t let anything go. I say I do to get people off my back. In your case I said I did because I knew it hurt you that I didn’t.”

  “But it was a great place for those ashes to go.”

  “But the bottle. You wanted to keep the bottle.”

  “I hadn’t really thought of what I would do with the bottle.”

  “But you wouldn’t have thrown it away.”

  “I wouldn’t have put it in the trash, no. Because it wasn’t trash. I don’t know if I would have kept it forever.”

  “Yes, you do. You know.”

  “I do?”

  “Absolutely you do. You would have kept it forever. Come on, August. You told me the story. How the bottle made it so real. Made him so real. Like he might be just about to walk in and finish that tea.”

  August nodded. Lost in thought. For a minute he couldn’t find his way out again to answer. When he did, he said, “But he’s not, though. I think the day you dropped that bottle it was high time for me to accept the fact that he’s not.”

  Chapter Three:

  RIGOROUS HONESTY

  August woke slowly, like drifting up through a veil of translucent water. Even with his eyes open he felt as though he were still asleep and was happy enough to stay that way. Or half that way.

  He looked out through the bug-spattered windshield of the motor home, vaguely still absorbing the difference in perspective. It was all different from the passenger seat. He had never, until earlier that morning, ridden in the passenger seat of his own rig. Maggie had been a less-than-confident driver and had never been willing to take the wheel of a vehicle she considered an oversize beast. It was dusk. Nearly dark. The landscape had the uninhabited blankness of flat California desert.

  When he’d finally roused himself a bit more, he looked left to Seth in the driver’s seat, who glanced back and offered a little smile.

  “Where are we?” August asked, his voice still a blur of sleep.

  It made him feel young, too young, like a child riding in the backseat of a car. A child asking, “Are we there yet?” There was a strange out-of-control sensation to not being the adult. To ceding all the driving, trip planning, and other details to the adult. He wasn’t used to it, to phrase it mildly. Yet he found he didn’t mind. He found almost a sense of comfort in handing over the reins.

  “Hopefully not too far from Joshua Tree,” Seth said.

  August laughed out loud.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I think we just set a new world record,” August said, “for shortest amount of distance covered in the greatest amount of time. What would it be if you drove it straight through? Like, two and a half hours?”

  “Something like that, yeah. But why would you drive it straight through when there are so many things to stop and climb?”

  August craned his neck around to check on Henry, in his usual seat on the couch. If indeed one can still have a “usual” after an eight-year hiatus. Henry was fast asleep, his chin resting on his narrow chest, one surprisingly large hand draped over Woody’s back.

  “So, I guess we’ll have to find a place to stay outside the park tonight,” August said.

  “Nope.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “We have reservations.”

  “Ah. Smart.”

  “I may not know where we’ll be each night for the rest of the trip, but I knew where we’d be tonight and for the next few days. And it’s gonna be so damned hot there, I may not get in any really good climbing except around dawn. I didn’t want to waste a whole day.”

  August allowed the dusky desert to flow by for a moment or two in silence, nursing that responsibility-free sensation of being along for the ride.

  Then he said, “Still not going to tell me where we’re going?”

  “Nope. Not telling you where we’re going in the long run. I will tell you where we’re going next.”

  August laughed again. “I might guess Joshua Tree.”

  “And you might be wrong. Next we’re going to a meeting.”

  “You found a meeting out here?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you work out a list of them for the whole trip?”

  “Nope. Just called AA Area Service on my cell phone.”

  “Are we going to a meeting for me? Or for you? Or both?”

  “Yes,” Seth said.

  August leaned back again and watched the desert vegetation streak by. For the first of what would be hundreds of times, he told himself, Memorize this. Enjoy it. Don’t miss a moment. Not a sight, not a smell, not a sound. Make the most of this whole summer out on the road. Because it’s going to be your last.

  “Staying or coming?” Seth shot over his shoulder to his brother.

  “What?”

  Apparently Henry was slow to shake that veil of sleep as well.

  “We’re going to a meeting. Staying or going?”

  “What kind of meeting?”

  “AA meeting. Open. Anyone can go. Think fast, dude. Wake up.”

  “Staying.”

  “Fine.”

  August opened the passenger-side door and used the handle over the door to help himself down. Seth jumped out and ran around the front of the cab to help him, but August waved him away.

  “I’m fine. Just hand me my canes when I’m all ready to walk, okay?”

  They set off in the direction of the meeting place together, a little storefront turned into a fellowship hall for a Unitarian Universalist congregation.

  It was almost completely dark now, except for the expansive desert sky glowing with light at one edge. August saw dim stars and streaks of orange light through the clouds over a range of mountains. The natural features seemed out of place against the gas stations and strip malls spread out under that amazing sky.

  Seth walked slowly to match August’s pace.

  Suddenly August heard, “Hey, wait up!”

  They stopped and turned to see Henry running after them.

  “Changed my mind,” he said, catching up. “I want to go to the meeting, too.”

  They walked slowly together, the three of them. It seemed so few steps from the rig to the fellowship hall, yet it was a slow undertaking for August. Sooner or later, he told himself, he’d have to adjust to that new reality. Accept it through and through
.

  “Were you worried about staying alone?” August asked Henry as they walked.

  “No. Not at all. Woody was there.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  At first Henry said nothing at all. Then, standing at the open doorway, August smelling the coffee and watching group members bustle around placing literature and chairs, Henry spoke again. “I just figured . . . you know. I’ve got to live with the guy and all.”

  August spent the first three-quarters of the meeting watching Henry in his peripheral vision. Watching to see how the information he was hearing settled in. He never quite saw what he was looking for, though. Henry hadn’t lost the knack of being present and saying absolutely nothing, betraying absolutely nothing, leaving August sure Henry was thinking hard, but not at all sure what he was thinking.

  Suddenly Henry turned his head and met August’s eyes. His gaze stuck there. There was something determined about the exchange, but August had no idea what it meant. Henry leaned over and whispered in his ear.

  “I need to talk to you outside,” he said.

  August lumbered carefully to his feet. Henry handed him his canes, which he could just as easily have picked up on his own. But people liked to help, and there was no reason to say anything about it. They made their way out the door, one of Henry’s hands lightly on August’s upper arm.

  Seth watched with mild curiosity but said nothing. He did not follow.

  “What’s up?” August asked, leaning against the façade of the building.

  “I have to level with you about something.”

  “Okay.”

  August’s stomach tightened slightly, even as he told himself this was likely nothing at all. Or close enough to nothing.

  “I was sitting in that meeting, listening. Listening to all those people talk about rigorous honesty. And at first all I could think about was my dad. I kept thinking, yeah, he must really belong in these meetings, because that’s exactly what he’s missing all right. And then it hit me. I’ve got a little rigorous honesty of my own to get around to.”

  “Okay,” August said again, wishing they could get where they were going faster.

  “I didn’t get my dad’s permission to come on this trip.”

  August held still and silent for a moment, waiting for the information to settle in. But even after it did, he wasn’t sure of the upshot of the news. What it really meant. How bad it would turn out to be.

  “You just took off without telling him?”

  “Yes and no. I left him a note.”

  “But he doesn’t know where you are?”

  “I just told him I was going away for the summer with Seth.”

  “But not with me.”

  “No! Of course not with you. Then he never would have let me go.”

  “Couldn’t you have told him to his face you were going away with just Seth?”

  “He would’ve asked questions. He would’ve gotten it out of me. Nothing was going to keep me from doing this, August. Nothing.”

  August tipped his head back and looked at the stars. They were brilliant. He was shocked by their number and clarity. He’d briefly forgotten he was in the desert. The light cast by this tiny town didn’t amount to much.

  Before August could find words, Henry continued. “Okay, the truth is I’m a really bad liar. Probably because I don’t do it much. I don’t like to say stuff that isn’t true, so I just don’t say anything at all. I couldn’t have lied to his face. He’d have known. And then he wouldn’t have let me go.”

  “What if he calls the police?”

  “And tells them what? What did I do so wrong?”

  “He could report you as a runaway.”

  “I don’t think he will if he thinks I’m just with Seth.”

  On the mention of the name Seth, as if by magic, August saw Seth standing beside them in the barely cool evening.

  “What’s up, August? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m the problem,” Henry said. “I didn’t tell Dad I was going. I mean, I left him a note.”

  “And told him what?” Seth asked, sounding apprehensive.

  “That I was going away with you for the summer.”

  Seth dug his cell phone out of his pocket. Tapped a few times with his thumb. Peered at it in silence.

  “Wonder why he hasn’t called me.”

  “Three guesses,” Henry said.

  “Oh,” Seth said. “Got it. He hasn’t gotten home yet.”

  August did a little thinking and figuring in his head. Tried to think when the boys had left home. Apparently Wes had been gone for the better part of two days.

  “I wish you wouldn’t be mad at me,” Henry said as they drove down Indian Cove Road toward their campground. The headlights of the rig illuminated jumbled piles of interconnected rocks on each side of the road—jumbles that added up to formations thirty or forty feet high. It was hard for August to take his eyes off them.

  “I’m not mad at you,” August said.

  “He was talking to me,” Seth said.

  “Yeah,” Henry said. “I was talking to Seth.”

  “I just don’t want anything messing this up,” Seth said.

  “And if I’d told him more . . . or asked his permission . . . that wouldn’t have messed things up?”

  “It’s just not how I would have handled it.”

  “Oh, get off my case, Seth. Would you, please? There’s no way you put this whole thing off on me. Notice you never once asked me anything? Not how I got his permission. Not what I told him. You just didn’t want to know. That’s the truth and you know it.”

  They pulled into Indian Cove Campground in silence. Seth eased the rig along the narrow dirt road, looking for the site number that matched the printed-out reservation confirmation on his lap. At one point he pulled over, turned on the overhead cab light. Checked the number again. Turned it off and drove on.

  In time he turned in beside a fire ring and picnic table, the headlights illuminating a solid face of dusty reddish rock. Seth parked the rig with about a foot between the rocks and the front bumper.

  His cell phone rang. He turned off the engine. Cut the lights. Everything around them felt dark and motionless, and August wondered why all the other campers seemed silent and invisible.

  Another ring. Seth pulled the phone out of his shirt pocket, the LED light of its screen casting a soft glow on his face.

  “Dad?” Henry asked. As if he simply couldn’t hold the word in a moment longer.

  “Dad,” Seth said solemnly.

  Another ring.

  “Are you going to get it?” Henry asked.

  “I’m thinking. What do I tell him? Do I lie?”

  “I think you’d better.”

  “I don’t like to do that. Then I feel like I’m no better than he is.”

  A fourth ring.

  “You can’t tell him the truth or he’ll sic the cops on me or something.”

  “I have to think about this,” Seth said.

  The phone stopped ringing. August figured it must have gone to voice mail.

  “I guess for all he knows we’re out of range,” Henry said.

  “Yeah,” Seth said. “I guess.”

  August heard a tone from the phone that he could only guess was notification of a new voice-mail message.

  “I’m dead tired,” Seth said. “I’ll worry about this mess in the morning.”

  He opened the glove compartment and threw his phone in. It landed on the plastic bag of Phillip’s ashes.

  Chapter Four:

  CLIMBING

  August opened his eyes, surprised to see the carpet-lined roof of the motor home. As though in his sleep he had forgotten that such a thing could ever happen again. He looked out the window to see the dawn just breaking. The sun gleamed through a notch in a sand-colored rock wall made up of a stacked jumble of smaller, rounded rocks, each strangely long and vertical. It shone into August’s eyes in a way he found oddly pleas
ant, strobing into visible rays that radiated in all directions.

  He reminded himself again, Take it in, imprint it. Enjoy it. Because this is your last summer out in the world.

  He heard a noise and looked up to see Henry dash into the kitchen and plug in the coffeepot, which was apparently all set up to brew. Two raw eggs sat out on the counter, and Henry quickly broke them into a small frying pan on the two-burner propane stove. He pushed the lever down on the toaster, and two pieces of nubby wheat bread disappeared into it.

  “You look like you know your way around a kitchen,” August said.

  “Yeah. Well. You know. If I hadn’t learned to feed myself, I’d’ve starved.”

  August moved to sit up, but Henry stopped him with one raised hand.

  “No. Don’t get up. Not allowed. Unless you have to pee. Then you can get up. Otherwise I’m serving you breakfast in bed.”

  August froze as Henry spoke, then settled again. Woody lay down with his back curled against August’s hip.

  “Why breakfast in bed?”

  “I promised Seth I would. He wants you to have the best of everything this trip. We take care of everything for you. Just like you did for us last time.”

  August absorbed that statement briefly. Then, a little embarrassed to address it directly, he asked, “Where is Seth?”

  “Three guesses.”

  “Climbing?”

  “Climbing.”

  August watched the sun rise over the rock formations, his fingers in Woody’s wiry white fur. He didn’t speak again until Henry brought him a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks,” August said. “When did it get so bad again with your dad?”

  Henry paused. Scratched his forehead distractedly with the heel of one hand. “Um. I guess after Seth went off to college . . . my dad just kind of let his hair down. He always thought Seth was the one watching his every move, but I watch his every move, too; it’s just that Seth watches his every move and says so. I don’t say anything. So he figures he’s getting off scot-free. I don’t even think he cares what I see or what I think of what I see. I think he just doesn’t want to hear anything about it. It’s like he thinks if he doesn’t have to hear about something, then it isn’t a problem.”