Worse, to his shame, he hasn’t exactly blazed a trail at the office. His friend Julia is the rising star. She already has a reputation as a passionate and superb advocate. A someday-successor to Henry. Chris is simply another one of the sheepdogs herding the flock. His adoptive father, Clint, would be so disappointed … if he knew.
But no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many Mondays arrive and he swears things will be different, he mostly phones it in. On his lunch break today, eating another microwaved burrito, he sits at his cubicle, puts in his earbuds, and watches more videos of the man. The anonymous travel vlogger whose life seems so exciting, so free.
Chris imagines himself on similar adventures: riding a motorbike across a rickety bridge in Belarus, staying in an ice hotel in Sweden, meeting a girl on Tinder in Reykjavík, eating reindeer burgers in the arctic, going to a water park in North Korea. Chris isn’t the only one with such fantasies—the anonymous vlogger has become wildly popular in the past few months. He’s been playing a catch-me-if-you-can game, a ploy to increase his followers.
Chris’s eyes go to his phone, and he sees something surprising. It’s a live feed. Usually, the traveler posts videos after the fact. As always, he’s off-screen, the scene an unidentified airport terminal:
“I wanted to thank everyone for your support. Today, I hope you enjoy this clip from my trip to Romania. I’ve just landed in the U.S., and I’ll be posting all week. Who knows, maybe you’ll find me…”
This is the chance Chris has been waiting for—an opportunity to find and meet the vlogger.
He’ll find him.
He has to.
Because he hasn’t seen his brother in fifteen years.
YOUTUBE EXCERPT
Mr. Nirvana, the Anonymous Travel Vlogger
（1.2M views）
“Visiting a Romanian Fortune-Teller”
EXT. ROMANIA—BUCOVINA—SUNSET
The scooter stops at a fork in the dirt road. As always, only MR. NIRVANA’s hands are in the frame.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
People warned me against visiting a village on the outskirts of town, known for the best fortune-tellers in Romania. But when has that ever stopped me, right? I found this guy online, Pavel, who agreed to take me there. He gave me pretty good directions here, so I hope he shows up.
The video cuts off, then back on. A figure emerges from the woods. It shows only the guide, PAVEL, who shakes Nirvana’s hand. Pavel then counts bills he’s given and grabs the handles of Nirvana’s rented scooter.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
We’re taking the bike?
Pavel shakes his head, and rolls the scooter to some bramble and conceals it. He then gestures for Nirvana to follow him into the woods. The camera jostles, following Pavel as the night gets darker.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
Our guide is a man of few words. Let’s hope I’m not being led to my death.
Pavel turns and smiles, showing missing teeth.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
You can see the village up ahead.
Ramshackle houses are in the distance. The video turns black. When it returns, Nirvana and Pavel are inside a room illuminated only by candlelight. An OLD WOMAN looks into the camera. She shuffles a deck of cards, says something in Romanian.
PAVEL
（ACCENTED ENGLISH）
She says put the money on the cards, and make the sign of the cross on top of the bills.
Nirvana puts bills on top of the deck, and makes a cross with his hand over them. The woman scoops up the money, then displays the first card on the table. The woman’s face crumples. She speaks again.
PAVEL
She says you have a dark past. She’s not sure she wants to—
The old woman stands abruptly. She flings the bills at them, starts yelling.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
What’s going— What is she saying?
PAVEL
She says we need to go. Now. Or she’s calling her sons. We’re not welcome here.
MR. NIRVANA （O.S.）
I don’t understand. I thought she was going to do a reading.
PAVEL
No. We must go. She says you’re damned.
FADE TO BLACK
CHAPTER 12
ELLA
Ella had two sessions that morning: a college kid who was flunking out and hiding it from her parents, and a seemingly perfect mother of two who purged every piece of food that entered her body. The meme is true: Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.
She’d considered canceling all sessions for the day, but she’s still wired from the hospital. From meeting this strong girl who survived the most brutal of attacks. From finally letting Brad take the parachute before the plane crashed into a ball of fire against the mountainside. So, she’d taken a scalding shower, blasted away the smeared eye makeup, put on professional attire, downed four Advil, and made her way in. Brad had told her to be out by the end of the day, but what was he going to do? Throw her stuff on the curb? It would serve her right. But that isn’t Brad. She’ll go stay with her mother—its own form of punishment—and get her things later this week while Brad’s at work.