Free Descension by B. C. Burgess

picture of her birth parents, wondering why they were never there.
    When her eyelids grew wet and heavy, Layla tucked the photos under her pillow and turned off the lamp, quickly falling into a dreamless sleep.
     
    ~ * * * ~
     
    Layla took her time getting out of bed Friday morning, but once up, she didn’t lounge around. After taking a hot shower and dressing in comfortable layers, she shoved her dirty clothes in her backpack so she’d remember to transfer them to her laundry bag. Then she left the room empty, hoping she’d find a closer parking spot the next time she returned.
    Bypassing the coffeepot in the lobby, she headed for the café she’d visited the night before, unwilling to gamble on something as vital as quality coffee. Supposedly the best brew in the world was about an hour away, but she refused to make the drive to Cannon Beach without a jolt of caffeine. Besides, she wanted to get more familiar with the area around her hotel before venturing too far away from it.
    So that’s what she did. All afternoon she wandered from block to block, memorizing business names, street names, and most importantly, parking garage locations. Though she was busy learning, she kept her pace slow so it wouldn’t feel like work, taking time to window shop, people watch, and park hop; and she found a stationary store where she could mail out Travis’ and Phyllis’ postcards. When her stomach started growling, she got a pamphlet from a real estate office and searched out a casual restaurant, looking over local listings as she ate.
    She spotted a few properties in Cannon Beach—gorgeous photographs included—and suddenly yearned to see it in person, to sip the best coffee in the world as she walked beside the ocean.
    “Would you like a to-go box?” the waitress asked, snapping Layla out of her daydream.
    “Um… no thanks,” she answered, jittery with unexplained urgency. “Do you know what time it is?”
    “Four-thirty,” the woman answered.
    Layla’s mouth fell open. She had no idea she’d been wandering the streets that long. She quickly stood, digging a tip from her pocket. “Do you know how to get to Cannon Beach from here?”
    “Sure,” the waitress answered, pulling a notepad from her apron. “You’ll want the Sunset Highway.” She jotted down a few directions then handed them over. “Is that understandable?”
    Layla scanned the paper then looked south. “That way?”
    “Right,” the waitress confirmed. “Follow the Oregon Zoo and Beaverton signs if you get confused. You’ll pass them on your way out of town.”
    “Thanks,” Layla returned, grabbing her backpack. Then she headed for her car, determined to reach the coast before nightfall.
    As she navigated her way out of Portland, bypassing the zoo and a few city suburbs, she wondered if Cinnia’s Cannon Café would still be there. Any number of things could have happened in the past twenty-one years—demolition, foreclosure, takeovers. It could be a Starbucks by now. She told herself she didn’t care as long as there was decent coffee, but she knew it was a big, fat lie. She couldn’t deny her deep desire to see where her mom and dad had once sat drinking their favorite brew. When she wondered what they liked in their coffee, she cursed and turned up the radio.
    Her ears felt the pressure rise as she left Willamette valley behind, following the narrow highway into the Coastal Range. Colossal trees lined the road—cedars, firs, spruces and hemlocks—and their greedy canopy blocked the waning sun, dimming the two-lane path and casting the undergrowth in murky green shadows.
    When the timber finally thinned, the sun broke through, practically blinding her despite the partly cloudy sky. Having been in the shade so long, tunneled by towering trees, the daylight and openness was like a wave of air, like when she’d lay on the bed as a child and let Katherine spread a cool sheet over her. She couldn’t see the ocean yet, but the oxygen