Rosaleigh, NY

“I think you’re really going to be impressed with the location of the main lodge, Julienne,” Mr. Armstrong proclaims as he drives me to the site. He’s been impressed with me ever since I went to that town meeting, beaming at me in the hallways as I try to scuttle from place to place as unnoticed as possible.

I just want to get in, do the project, reap the benefits, and get back to L.A. It’s as simple as that.

Sitting next to Mr. Armstrong makes me think of Levi and our encounter at the grocery store the other day, when he also encountered Ryan and Jessica. The road we are on is familiar, though I don’t think Mr. Armstrong realizes it is to me. Nothing has changed in Rosaleigh – it’s like the last few years of our lives have been encapsulated. Levi still loves Jessica. After all this time.

I can’t decide if it’s sweet or if it’s sad.

The awareness that things are difficult for Levi is a bit overwhelming when I think about it. He’s spent all of his life being his older brother’s shadow, never quite establishing his own person to the outside world. His best friend got together with the girl he’s in love with and they’ve been together since. Now his father is the asshole prick the entire town is rallying against.

No wonder he’s so grouchy all the time.

The green of the trees are blending together around the car as Mr. Armstrong speeds down the way, babbling about the project. I can’t seem to find my focus – instead, it’s with the realization that the scenery slipping in and out of familiarity. We’re entering an area I’d tried to force myself to forget. Instead, I’m returning.

“There comes a time when you need to let go of the places and just hold onto the memories,” Mr. Armstrong continues to explain as we drive closer to our intended destination. It isn’t much longer. “It’s time that Rosaleigh grew up and let go and let the town grow for the better.”

He was irritated after I detailed the events of the meeting, keeping the fact that I went to another meeting based on saving the town to myself. For a few days, he stormed around the office pouting about the high turnout. Then he spent a day golfing. When he returned, he had a new resolve to fight harder and better than ever. So I needed to see the site of the lodge. That would make him feel like we were making progress.

But the trees are becoming those trees and the road is becoming that road and the horizon is becoming that lake and I’m beginning to panic.

Everything about that night is flashing before my eyes, everything I did and didn’t do, everything we all did and didn’t do, the consequences that followed. Mr. Armstrong is looking at me and I realize that I’m hyperventilating, clutching the leather of the seat beneath me, all the color having flown from my skin. We pull up and park next to the lake and I lose all sense of the serenity I once got here. I’d been okay when I was with the others – then it was like a support team. Now I feel like I’m committing a crime against her just by being here.

“Julienne? Are you alright?”

I’m throwing open the door, tumbling out of the car, and puking on the lush grass just a few feet away from Mr. Armstrong’s nice SUV. I can’t control it, I can’t calm myself down – the panic is making me sick to my stomach and I can’t help but vomit. I can hardly hear Mr. Armstrong getting out of the car and calling my name over the sound of my own retching.

“Julienne!” I finally hear when I’m done, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, blinking the forceful tears from my eyes. “Julienne! Are you alright?”

I nod, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to get a hold of myself. This is something I just need to do. Mr. Armstrong is right – it’s time to let go of this place. I need to get a hold of myself. I need to get a hold of myself.

“Yeah,” I mumble, sputtering a little bit with the taste of bile in my mouth. “Just motion sick.”

And I pull myself together.