Lost Along The Way

Eeva kicked her shoes up on the dashboard, stretching out as far as she could with a long sigh.

"I love this car," She said, inhaling deeply, as if she could smell the very soul of the vehicle. I don't know why she liked it. I drove a run down Caddie that I'd bought off the town gardener for a thousand bucks. It had cloth seats, slushie stains, and an inescapable odor of cheese whiz. The only real perk to the car was that the radio was up to date enough for Eeva to plug in her phone and start blasting the latest Lumineers single out of the one working speaker. She turned to me with a devious look. "Drive," she dared.

"I think I need a direction first," I replied. Unless she wanted me to drive forward and through my garage door. Highly unlikely, but with Eeva, you never really knew.

"Oh! Right." She dug around in her bag and pulled out a map. It was 2020. GPS had been a thing for years and yet here she was, with a physical paper map. I knew vintage was back in style, but I never imagined it would get this far. "That way." She pointed west, and so I shrugged and drove. It occurred to me after about a half an hour that even though Eeva had a map, I still had no idea where we were going.

"Am I allowed to know our final destination?" I asked ominously. Eeva only grinned at me.

"I told you, Hall. The Lumineers!"

"And where are they?" She paused, and I got the feeling that she almost didn't want to tell me. It wouldn't be not like her to hide things from me. She liked to keep our adventures vague.

"Why won't you leave small towns, Hall?" She asked, returning my question with a question. I assumed our conversation would loop back to the location of our destination eventually. I thought about the question, not sure why she was asking. I'd always been one of the small town people. It bothered me sometimes that I wouldn't amount to anything worthwhile as long as I stayed at home, but I tried to ignore that. I was familiar with our town, and familiarity meant more than accomplishments.

"They're safe," I said finally.

"Safe?" She echoed, scoffing. "So what? That's not a good reason."

"I think it is. Nothing ever happens in a small town. People get murdered in cities. The most dramatic thing that's ever happened around here is when Barney the mailman was screwing around with the Vice Principal's wife."

"But that's the thing, Hall. Nothing happens in a small town. There's nothing to do and nothing ever changes."

"And that's why they're safe, and that's why I like them. People get killed in cities, Eev." She stared at me, her gaze unusually serious.

"But they also live," She whispered. "People die everywhere; it doesn't matter how. What matters is life, and that's something you'll never have in some small town where everybody works the same 9 to 5 job and eats at the same crappy diner."

"Hey, you don't get to diss the diner," I warned. Eeva and I went there after all of our adventures, celebrating our small feats over a plate of fries and milkshakes. She did have a point about life though, but I didn't know what to tell her. I didn't know why I was choosing to stay. It was just something you did.

"Are you really okay with just being content with life?" She asked, still waiting for an answer. I got the feeling that she was trying to convince me of something, but I wasn't sure what.

"Not all of us are nomads, Eev." I turned up the radio as she fiddled with her bear claw necklace, but the words stuck with me. A content life was a safe one, but she was right. It was boring. Eeva wanted more from life; everyone did. I thought they were stupid for leaving, but maybe I just didn't know what I was missing out on. Ignorance is bliss, after all. I was starting to think that everyone who was leaving had some great knowledge about the world that I had forgotten to learn, and Eeva was the expert on the subject.