All of Me

ten • it's a date

• ••

It was nearly midnight when we finally made it home to find a plate of cookies on our kitchen table, with a note from Tad. Mom beamed, a little colour in her cheeks, and she kissed my forehead before she went to bed and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

We had an exhausting couple of days with Kris, as he showed us every inch of his city. After stuffing ourselves on ice cream in Ohio City, he drove us back across the river and we spent a few hours in the rock and roll hall of fame. As full as we were, we couldn't resist sitting on the café balcony with a soda as we looked out over Lake Erie.

At the Cleveland script sign, Mom got another tourist to take a photo of us. She was insistent about where we all stood and I didn't understand why she wanted Kris and me in front of the C while she stood in front of the second E, until I looked back at the photo. Between the three of us, the sign read LEV.

It felt like we went everywhere but I know there's still so much we didn't see and I can't wait to head back someday, but it was nice to collapse into my own bed with nearly eight hours before I needed to be up.

Even so, I felt half-dead when my alarm shrieked at seven thirty, still hardly conscious as I chewed a couple slices of peanut butter on toast. Gray somehow seemed alert and enthusiastic when he came over with a fresh pot of coffee his dad had brewed, even though I know he was still reading when I went to bed, and Mom was in good spirits too. The weekend revitalised her.

I only just feel semi-alive now, getting into the car with Gray next to me and a thermos of coffee in the cupholder. I hate the taste but I need the boost and I like the smell. When I slam the door, I rest my hands on the steering wheel and let out a groan. My legs ache after two days of walking more than I normally do, seeking out the city's secrets.

"You ok?" Gray asks as he checks his reflection in the mirror, making a poor attempt to tame his hair. It has a mind of its own and today there's a thick lock that won't behave. He gives up and snaps the mirror shut.

"Yeah, just tired," I say, stifling a yawn against the back of my hand. I don't want to drive to college today, but there's no other choice but to pull the car out of park and back out of the driveway.

Neither of us talk much on the way to South Lakes. The radio fills the silence, only the occasional word shared between songs while Gray reads and I hope my gross coffee gives me an energy boost. The weekend was intense and as much as I loved it, it absolutely drained me.

It's hard to relax while I'm behind the wheel but at least the journey is familiar enough that my mind can slip into neutral. By the time I pull into my favourite spot on campus, my shoulders are a little less tense and although it's Monday morning, I feel good when I take a deep breath.

Gray shuts the book that he started when we got in the car. He's already over a hundred pages in. He marks his page with a bookmark Mom gave him: he's obsessed with bookmarks, an extensive collection tacked to his walls. Some of his favourites, the ones signed by the authors, are framed.

"Good book?"

He carefully slots the book into his bag and lets out a long, heavy sigh. "Amazing. You have to read it when I'm done."

"Awesome, I will!" Gray is often handing out recommendations and I always read them, and he has yet to pass on a bad book. I try to match his pace but I didn't read a word over the weekend and he finished four novels.

When we get out of the car, Gray asks, "So, on a scale of one to twenty-four, how re-energized are you feeling?"

I yawn. "Minus seven."