You, With a View(40)

“Just— I wanted it to be right. I wanted to do the story justice.”

“The story that happened sixty years ago or the one that’s happening now?”

It’s such an astute observation that it throws me off balance. Now that he’s said it, I recognize the feeling: living inside an important memory as it’s happening, and being viscerally aware of it. “Both, I guess.”

Theo hitches a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, you’ve got that guy’s seal of approval. He’s been reading comments all morning. Hope you’re prepared to talk about it all the way to Death Valley.”

I catch sight of Paul sitting in a plush leather chair, one leg crossed over the other. He has Theo’s phone in his hands, reading glasses on, grinning down at the screen like it’s Christmas morning.

It’s a look so full of joy—and pride—that it makes my heart ache. It reminds me of Gram when she’d see my work.

I catch Theo watching me. His expression is a manifestation of the way my chest feels.

“What?”

His mouth parts, then presses together. Then the look is gone, replaced by the sly expression I’ve—shit—missed. “You said I could look.”

I choke out a laugh. “There’s a lot of nuance between looking and staring, Spencer.”

“Sometimes I like to take my time.”

I can’t touch that, not even with a ten-foot pole. “Paul really likes the TikTok?”

“He’s been calling it a Tic Tac, but yeah, he’s into it.”

The miraculous thing is, I am, too.

“I have ideas for more,” I admit as we make our way over to Paul. My mind was racing last night. I stared at the ceiling for nearly an hour dreaming up the stories I could tell next. “I want to do a couple videos for our Yosemite leg.”

“Then keep going,” Theo says bossily. “And stop thinking so hard.”

Paul grins up at me when we get to him, handing Theo his phone. “Good morning! I saw your Tic Tac. It was just lovely. So many nice comments, too, though I didn’t understand half of them.”

“Social media vernacular is confusing,” I agree, offering my hand to help him up.

He gives my hand a squeeze once he’s standing. “You, my dear, are a storyteller. I’ve seen it in your photographs, and I see it here. You’ll do more, right?”

The lump in my throat is so vicious that I can only nod at first. Eventually I get out, “Yes, I’ll keep going.”

My gaze slides to Theo. I’ve repeated his phrasing. He acknowledges it with a wink, and it tugs at me, a thread that’s just been created between us. If I’m not careful, it’ll turn into a web I can’t get out of.

I turn back to Paul. “I told Theo this, but I won’t include current pictures or videos of either of you unless you want that.”

“Oh.” Paul’s eyes widen, his mouth twitching into a smile. “Well, I’m already a little bit famous, aren’t I?”

“You’re very famous by TikTok standards,” I laugh.

“Tell the story how you want to tell it. If that includes the current version of me, I’d be honored.”

“I’m okay with it, too,” Theo says.

I arch an eyebrow at him. “It won’t affect your reputation as the very serious cofounder and CFO of Where To Next?”

“You showing me, the cofounder of a traveling app, traveling?” he responds. “No, I think it’ll be okay.”

“Maybe you’ll accumulate a fan club.”

Deep in my bones I know people will go wild for him. I swear he was specially made for fantasizing over. Already I’m thinking of the ways my camera will love the planes and angles of his face, that body, and the way hungry, anonymous eyes will devour whatever I put up. It stirs something in my stomach. Not jealousy, but something sticky like that.

Theo shrugs, cheeks flushing. “Not my problem. If you’re going to tell the story, might as well tell all of it. I’m not going to stand in your way.”

Paul grins at the two of us, then takes me by the elbow as we walk out to the van, sharing his favorite comments.

Theo’s already loading up the trunk by the time we get there, and instructs us to drop our bags so he can finish. Paul settles into the backseat as usual, and I take advantage of Theo’s absence to add my phone to the Bluetooth, disconnecting his.

When he slides into the driver’s seat and turns the ignition, Maggie Rogers’s voice snakes out through the speakers. He looks at the multimedia screen, then over at me, unimpressed.

“I told you, more Thom Yorke and I’m going to throw myself out of the car. Allow me to introduce you to modern music.”

He sighs. I settle into my seat, smug and singing along, as Theo puts us in reverse.

“All right.” Paul claps his hands. “Where to next?”



* * *





We make it to Death Valley before sunset, hiking the quarter mile to Badwater Basin, a popular tourist spot. The landscape is monochromatic, an ombre of browns that fuse together to make something beautiful. In the distance, the mountain range looks painted on the horizon. Though it’s evening, the air is still heavy with heat.

I walk next to Theo while Paul meanders ahead.