Free Inevitable Detour by S.R. Grey

say, “I think I may change things up, do some things differently.”
    “You should,” Farren replies. “People set limitations on themselves all the time. Everyone makes excuses. Change is scary, I know. It’s hard. But don’t let anything—or anyone—keep you from your dreams.”
    Farren is so impassioned, and as we’re leaving Ohio and entering Indiana, I can’t think of anything but where my life is heading. I like this burgeoning change in my thinking. I already took a stand by coming on this trip. I didn’t stay at Oakwood. I’m not enrolled in summer courses, and I’m not planning to be. In fact, I’m not going back to the way things were at all. I don’t think I can.
    I share my thoughts with Farren, telling him all of these facts.
    He says softly, “Haven told me she invited you to New York this summer. Are you going to come up to the city with her once she’s rescued and things are back to normal?”
    I like Farren’s confidence that Haven will definitely be rescued. And I like his softened tone when mentioning me and New York City. “I think so,” I tell him.
    “Good,” he says, nodding once.
    I stare straight ahead, smiling and feeling empowered. Way off in the distance, across acres of farmland, the sun is melting into the horizon. The sky looks as if someone took a brush and painted it with fiery reds, sharp oranges, and muted purples. The beauty before me has me wishing I could somehow capture this moment—this moment with Farren, this moment in my life. If I had my phone, I could take a picture of the beautiful sunset and have it to look back on and remind me of this talk, this day, these decisions—my decisions.
    “I wish I had a camera,” I mumble.
    Farren throws me a contemplative glance and then returns to focusing on the road. A few seconds later, we’re slowing down and merging into an exit lane. “Why are we stopping?” I ask.
    “We need gas,” Farren says. “And we haven’t eaten for a while. We’ll grab something while we’re here.”
    My stomach rumbles at the mention of food. I’m reminded that the energy bar I picked up earlier when we stopped for a bathroom break has long been digested.
    “Good plan,” I say.
    Minutes later we pull into a parking spot in a rest-stop lot. Farren and I go our separate ways when we reach the restrooms inside, but I rejoin him where he’s in line for fast food a few minutes later.
    “There aren’t a lot of options here,” he says as I nudge in next to him.
    “That’s fine,” I reply. I peruse the menu board. “I’ll think I’ll go with the number-three combo.”
    “Burgers and fries it is,” Farren says. “I was thinking the same thing.”
    I glance around and spot a small drugstore a few doors down from the burger joint. It gives me an idea.
    “Maybe I should grab us two bottled pops instead of us buying drinks with our meals.” I point toward the drugstore. “I’m sure they sell refrigerated pop in there. And this way we can save the bottles and refill them with water at our next stop.”
    “Great idea,” Farren replies. “Plastic bottles will hold up better than paper cups.” He reaches for his wallet to give me money, but I stop him.
    “I think I can handle it,” I say playfully, echoing the words he said to me when I told him I’d pay him back if expenses got out of hand.
    He laughs and says, “Touché, Essa, touché.”
    We meet back up at the car ten minutes later. Well, actually I have to wait a few minutes for Farren. My stop at the drugstore was quick, so I made it out faster. It’s a nice evening—we left the rain behind long ago—so when Farren walks up with the food, I suggest we eat at a picnic table in a nearby grassy spot.
    Minutes later, in the middle of eating and enjoying our fast-food meals, I notice a small brown bag on the bench next to Farren. “What’d you buy?” I ask.
    “A couple of things,” he says. He pops a french fry in his mouth and pulls two prepackaged cell phones