Cross Country Hearts by Suzanne August

Epilogue

“You’ve got to pour more milk into it,” John says, pointing at the latte sitting before me.

When I don’t say anything, John sighs and wipes his hands on his green apron before stepping closer to me. I let him pry the tin cup of steaming milk from my hands.

He raises his eyebrows at me. “Watch,” he says before grabbing a round cup to pour more latte in. Then he demonstrates step by step how to pour the steaming milk into the cup to create a neat, perfectly shaped leaf. He hands the cup back to me. “Here, serve this one.”

“John,” I say. “You did that so you can have the latte I messed up, didn’t you?”

His smile is devious enough to make me doubt my words, but I catch him as I turn away, pouring my failed latte art into a paper cup. I do not doubt that it’ll disappear into the break room, next to the black Sharpie marker he’ll use to write his name onto the cup.

I take the latte he’s made and walk around the counter just as the bell above the cafe’s door rings. Two women in their early twenties walk in.

“I’ll be right with you,” I say, plastering a smile on.

“I’ll get it, June!” John calls.

Relieved, I keep on walking toward the tiny table in the corner of the small cafe. When I set the latte down on the table next to a laptop, I say, “There you go. Best one I’ve done yet, just for you.”

Jasper’s one eyebrow raises, and he glances from the cup to me. “I saw John showing you how to do it.”

Caught, I laugh. “He wanted to one-up me.”

He shakes his head, but his eyes smile. “Thanks for the free latte.”

“Who says it’s free?” I ask. Before he answers, I pull up a chair beside his and sit, peering at his laptop. “What have you got so far?”

Up on his screen is an article he’s reading for an art history essay he needs to write for one of his college classes. He clicks out of the article and pulls up the document where he has an outline of ideas.

“So…” he starts, then highlights a section after the one highlighted as ‘Maryland.’ This section is titled ‘Washington D.C.’ Jasper says, “Lila is the only one who can make time to come. I was figuring that after we pick her up, we can all head for the capital first.”

I glance over my shoulder to make sure John isn’t too busy behind the counter before turning my attention back to Jasper’s laptop. I lean closer to see better, my shoulder brushing Jasper’s arm. As he talks, his hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it. I lean into him.

“After D.C. I was thinking we should stay in the area. There are some cool monuments you’d be interested in, and there’s this museum I want to try…” he clicks between tabs, showing me each monument and museum he wants to see. He’s even included Georgia’s suggestions of where she wants to go. I’m sure Lila’s suggestions will make the upcoming trip more colorful.

“What do you think?” Jasper asks after a few moments. “Like what I’ve got so far?”

I grin. “Yeah, I think it’s perfect. I like the idea about staying in one area.”

“Well, it’ll be winter too, so it’s a better plan,” he agrees.

“I should be done paying my mom back at the end of October,” I tell him. “Then I can start contributing to the fund.”

“Perfect. It feels like you’ve been paying her back forever.”

“Four months,” I agree. “Glad it’s almost over.”

After April’s wedding week, I drove back with my mother alone in her Honda. What started as an excruciating two-day trip back up to Boston turned into a heartfelt conversation halfway up the East Coast when we stopped for a night in a hotel. Maybe it was being forced into the cramped space of a car together, instead of a house where either one of us could leave the moment we’d had enough of the other person.

We couldn’t run away from our problems. Sitting in that red Honda forced us to talk, to figure out our problems, and to at least promise each other that we’ll try to do better. The first day of that road trip was full of bickering, and the second day was full of ways we’ll be better to each other and for each other.

After that road trip, something told me that there was something about road trips. They can change you and your relationship with someone. There has to be something about sitting in such a small space so long that it forces you to confront ideas and yourself, making you consider how you view the simplest things in your life.

That second, much shorter road trip with my mother reinforced the new budding desire in me to crave an adventure, specifically of the road trip kind.

But before I could even consider going on another road trip, I had to pay my mother back for the first one. Two weeks after getting back from Florida, I threw on a green apron at the cafe closest to my school and started learning how to make coffee art.

For the rest of the summer, I found my own kind of art to find passion in while Jasper prepared for moving into his college dorm on his Boston campus, and my mother, secretly, picked up a book that gave tips to parents on how to bond with their teenage children. I only discovered she has it after I found it peeking out from her bag one morning.

It hasn’t been easy. I haven’t paid my mother back as fast enough as I would’ve liked, and she’s turned out to be just as horrible at math as I am, so helping me with my struggles in school has led to some heated arguments. But my relationship with my mother has always been one of push and tug and yelling. At least now, after our yelling matches, we sit down a day later and figure it out. And now I have a math tutor.

When it comes to comparing how my friendship with Melanie has fared, though, repairing my relationship with my mother has been a piece of cake. Melanie doesn’t exactly ignore me per-se, but we will never be the same.

I’ve ended up becoming co-captain with both Melanie and Victoria, and suddenly, Victoria and Melanie are new best friends. Melanie divulges all her secrets to her, instead of me, like she did for the past six years. I can’t say it doesn’t hurt, especially because Melanie still laughs and jokes with me and invites me to all the same parties we’ve always gone to together, but I’m coming to terms with it. At least Georgia is there, by my side, and has never wavered in loyalty and friendship to me.

“I’m thinking four days total,” Jasper is saying now. “We can do a longer road trip next summer.”

“I love that idea,” I say.

“We can do that one, just us. What do you think?”

“As long as we actually plan that one out,” I tell him. “And we don’t have anywhere to be.”

His eyes crinkle. “I won’t argue with that point.”

I point to the title of the document on his screen. “Why is it titled ‘Cross Country’ when we’re not even going anywhere outside of Washington D.C.?”

He laughs. “Because we’ll make it across the country at some point. Besides, I think we’ve managed to cross some hurdles as big as our country anyway.”

I get immediately what he means. Jasper’s painting of words hasn’t always been so clear, but in this one sentence, I understand right away, and I think it’s fitting. Who would have ever thought that we would’ve been able to get across the differences and resentments we had fostered for years? It’s a massive achievement, we’ve agreed. At some point, maybe around our third date, Jasper had said our trip down the East Coast was more than a road trip down our country’s entire Eastern seaboard.

It was a trip in understanding ourselves and each other. We went ‘Cross Country’ in more ways than one.

“I like it,” I tell him, and I lean forward to kiss him on the cheek.

“June!”

I twist in my chair to see John waving at me. “Coming!” Turning back to Jasper, I say, “Okay, get back to work.”

Jasper closes his laptop and puts it in his bag. “I’ve got to get to swim practice anyway.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Let’s plan on it.” As Jasper stands, he looks over my shoulder, toward the cafe’s counter, before focusing on me and pulling me close. His mouth always tastes like mint, and the taste lingers as he pulls back.

“Bye, King,” I say and head back to John and the customers beginning to line up.

He sighs behind me, but I hear him say, “I’ll talk to you later, Pierce.”

John is scowling at me, undoubtedly wishing I’d hurry up and get back to work. I have to hide my smile behind my hand and push away those butterfly feelings. My mouth still tastes like mints long after Jasper leaves the cafe, and John’s pestering about my latte art doesn’t bother me the least.

I’ve got a road trip to look forward to now.