They kept getting stuck behind RVs going thirty-five miles an hour, cars slowing down to pull into scenic overlooks to snap pictures. They weren’t making great time, but if they subsisted off the junk food in the car and didn’t stop for a meal or too many bathroom breaks, they’d even arrive in time for the opening act. Of course, they did stop and take a few pictures on some of the more beautiful curves, because what life-changing trip was complete without photographic evidence to rub in people’s faces?
They drove past the Bixby Canyon Bridge and Monterey, the sun starting to dip lower toward the ocean. The haze by the horizon weakened its rays, and it turned into a perfect orange sphere, like some strange cookie being dunked in slow motion. In Half Moon Bay they stopped to watch it set all the way, Dave reasoning that the rest of the drive was less curvy and would go by quicker. Since the landscape got significantly less impressive in the dark, they could speed and still make it to San Francisco in time.
Dave parked at a roadside convenience store and they walked down to the seaside, taking a seat at a bench that was remarkably like Dave’s bench at Morro Bay.
“Can we play the Before Midnight game?” Julia asked.
“Wow, usually you don’t ask, you just tell me we’re doing it.”
Julia sighed. “See? Letting you drive was a mistake. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
“Still there.” Dave held his hand out in front of him, his fingers parallel to the horizon, a trick they’d learned to know when the sun would be setting. Each finger equaled about fifteen minutes.
The sun was the color of a perfect orange, and the ocean below it had turned to something resembling steel, shimmering a line to where they were sitting, a yellow brick road cutting straight across the water.
“Still there,” Julia said after a moment. The game was a little silly and completely unoriginal, but it never failed to make Julia feel somewhat cathartic, regardless of whether or not she’d had anything resembling a catharsis. “Are we gonna make it there on time?”
“We should be fine. I’ll take the 101 and it’ll be a bit faster.” The sky around the sun was hazy and soaking up the color, so that it looked like someone had poked a hole in the sun and it was slowly bleeding out. “Still there.”
A thin cloud turned bright red and both of them oohed at it at the same time. “Definitely still there.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Dave look away from the sun, swiveling his head to take in the whole scene. He was the only person she knew who actively reminded himself to look around, to enjoy everything about a given moment. They’d never actually spoken about it, but she’d been watching it happen for years. “This is pretty great,” Dave said. “On a school night. Two hundred miles from home. Going to see Neko in San Francisco.”
Julia turned to look at him. The sun was golden on his skin, a bead of sweat was hiding at the very edge of his hairline. “Still there.” She smiled.
“Still there,” Dave repeated.
When the last orange-red sliver of the sun completely dipped beneath the ocean, they both said, “Gone.”
This time, Julia could feel a very specific epiphany, bittersweet though it may have been: She and Dave could still be friends. Nothing had changed.
THAT TEENAGE FEELING