You, With a View(21)

“A photography trip!” Dad says, his face lighting up. “How awesome, Beans.”

“Is it paid?” Mom asks.

My brain scrambles for an answer. “No, but it could lead to paid opportunities.”

It’s been nearly two weeks since my TikTok went viral. Maybe Thomas was right. If I keep telling the story on the road, people could continue to latch on to it. I could take pictures along the way, use them to make jazzy clips with music and vibes, talk about the landmarks I visit. When done well, those types of videos do solid numbers, and I already have people waiting on me. I could finally do something with the online shop I’d been setting up before Gram died, link it to my TikTok account.

I could try again.

It’s a hell of a way to do it, but I can’t think of a much better reason to dust off my camera. I haven’t been able to shake my restlessness knowing Paul and Gram never got to fulfill that trip. Maybe hearing the rest of the story from Paul and then going will soothe it. Maybe walking in Gram’s planned path more than sixty years later will help me hold on to her. It could soften some of this grief, let me feel like I’m actually doing something in the process.

I think of that dream, of Zion. Of Gram standing next to me, her hand almost in my hand.

I press on, determined now. “Uh, the photos I take will be judged for quality”—I’m literally thinking of TikTok commenters now—“and based on that, I might have some really great options.”

Dad is getting misty-eyed, and the guilt turns thick. No turning back now, though.

“Is this a group trip?” Mom asks.

“Yes.” It comes out sounding like a question.

“Are you lying to me?” She leans back in her chair, her dark ponytail bobbing with the movement. Her arms are tanned and perfectly Pelotoned. Strong enough to literally wrestle the truth out of me if she were like that.

“No! And Mom, even if it was a solo trip, that would be okay. I’m twenty-eight.” I look from her to Dad, who’s watching me with a tired smile, his blond hair and work clothes mussed. “I know I’m Benjamin Button-ing all over the place, but I am actually a grown human being who, up until four months ago, lived on her own.”

“I know.” I give her a look and she holds up her hands. “I do! I just don’t love the thought of a woman traveling alone—particularly a woman who wears my heart on her body.”

We exchange world-weary looks. “I hate that we have to think about it.”

“Fuck, me too,” she says, which shocks us into laughter. She’s not much for the f-bomb, but when she says it, she really makes it count.

“This is incredible, Noelle.” Dad reaches a hand across the table. I take it, my throat squeezing in tandem with his fingers tightening around mine. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I manage, feeling equally hopeful and like shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

“When is this happening?” Mom asks.

“In a couple weeks.” Completely pulled that out of my ass. Hopefully it’s enough time to get myself together and go.

“And how are you going to pay for it if it’s not a paid thing?”

“I’ll use some of Gram’s inheritance.” I’ve been holding on to it, waiting for something she’d deem worthy. This is it, I know it.

Dad nods, his eyes shining. “She’d love that.”

I want to lay my head on the table and cry. What would he do if he found out about Paul? Would he care? Would it break him? Am I betraying him by not telling him about this, the way I feel betrayed by Gram for not telling me?

What a mess. What an absolute clusterfuck. And yet, now that I’ve decided, I have to see this through.

“Okay,” Mom says, her expression twisting from doubt to cautious optimism. “Yeah, this could be really good for you, Noelle.”

It could. And clusterfuck or not, I’m doing it.





Eight





When I show up at Paul’s house on Saturday, I bring guests. Thomas and Sadie wanted to tag along to see the map and anything else Paul is prepared to show, and Paul was gracious enough to accept us all for an early lunch.

He opens the door with his signature sunny smile, stepping aside. “Come on in, kids. I’ve set us up on the deck again.”

I beam at him as Thomas and Sadie introduce themselves, though my stomach does a somersault. I’m revealing my plan today, and I have no idea what he’ll say.

It takes everything in me not to run for the back. I want to pore over Gram’s letters, and I need to take another look at the map. Maybe I’ll take a picture of it or—best-case scenario—borrow it so I can take it with me. I’d also like to get details of the originally planned trip from Paul so I can plot my days out. The clock is officially ticking.

I’m so caught up in my to-do list that Paul and Thomas end up at the front of the pack as we walk in. When we get to the living room, Thomas gestures to the gallery wall, coming to a halt. “Noelle wouldn’t stop talking about this after your visit. She said these are all your photographs.”

“They are indeed. I’ve been freelance, have worked with National Geographic and other publications you probably wouldn’t know. Took me all around the world for a time.”