UpSpark: A New Adult Inspirational Romance (The Five Elements Book 1)

by Nicole Wells

  "Mom, I know you love me and would do anything for me. And I love you, too. But this is something I need to do on my own. I mean, well, with my friends. Friend. God, I'm not saying this right at all—"

  She reaches over and pulls me into a hug.

  "I love you, baby. You and I, we will get through this. Even if we're apart. I want you to be happy. You let me know what that takes."

  She releases me and sniffles, discreetly doing that weird eye wipe/roll to avoid a mascara disaster. She composes herself and smiles, reaching out to me with both hands and squeezing my shoulders.

  "I want you to be happy. One day. It won't be today. You need to grieve. I understand that. But one day, you'll realize your happiness is not tomorrow. It's not caught up in how long your life is. One day, you'll realize happiness is here. When your dad died—"

  She looks away and chokes up, briefly closing her eyes.

  "Enya, when your dad died, I thought I would never be happy again. I thought I would always be lonely, and stuck feeling despair for what could have, and should have, been. I thought I would always be fighting with his memory — so angry at him and then feeling guilty for that anger. Or even guilty if I had a moment of normalcy. But one day, I just got to a place of numbness. It broke me down so far that I was not put together enough to do more than just be. I went through everything slowly, simply. Just breathing, feeling, and observing. And the sun was shining through the leaves and coming through the window, making a dancing shadow on the wall. The geometric shapes made an intricate pattern that came in and out of focus. It was elegant, spontaneous art.”

  Her eyes are open and unfocused as she continues, "I thought, 'That's beautiful. Rich would have liked that.' And I waited for the guilt, loneliness, and despair, but it never came.

  She looks back at me and continues, "In time there were more moments like that, Enya. It was not just trudging through because you needed me. It was me becoming real again, coming back to life.

  "I would give anything to take this from you." She sighs and squeezes my shoulders again, "But I can't travel this path with you. Instead, I can just give testament to the fact that, with time, if you let it, slowly things will get better. And you'll find that the happiness that you thought was robbed from you, it is still there.

  "So," she says, her voice taking on that faux cheery tone all mothers have perfected, "if you need to go traipsing across Mongolia, we'll make it happen. You let me know what you need. That's all you need to focus on right now.”

  I hug her hard, and then we're both crying. I squeeze her for all I'm worth, trying to convey all that I cannot say in words. We have not had the tight relationship I had with my Dad, but his absence is bringing us together. I'm not sure which one of us lets go first, but we share an awkward little laugh as we pat each other in our clumsy hug conclusion.

  I get off the couch to get my computer from my room. I think I'll bring it down here and research my new travel project next to her. As I reach the hallway, I turn around and smirk.

  "Mongolia, Mom? Really?"

  "Well, there was this documentary I saw, this kid with autism, his parents took him —"

  "Mom." I'm shaking my head, hands up in a stop gesture, and still smiling. "Thanks." And I dart upstairs.

  ——— ———

  IF YASMIN AND JACOB ARE MY BEST FRIENDS, then Jackie is my mentor and confidante. And my acupuncturist. When I told her my test was positive over the phone, she cleared her entire afternoon for me.

  I think most people don't do acupuncture because they don't realize how well it works, they fear needles or they think they can't afford it. I'm fortunate because I have an informal work-study with Jackie. I help her out by calling clients back, scheduling appointments, setting up the treatment rooms, and other tasks one afternoon a week, and she teaches me about Chinese medicine and gives me free acupuncture.

  “You don’t need to say anything if you don’t want to, Enya. I’ll get everything I need to know from your pulses.” Jackie sits on the rolling stool beside the table covered with linen, not crinkly paper.

  “No, it’s okay. Talking is good. I don’t know that there is much to say, though. I think I’ve processed all I can for now.” I stretch out on the table, looking up into the lights in the ceiling.

  “I decided to travel cross-country with Jacob. Something in the moving forward appeals to me, and I can’t pass up the opportunity to camp. I need that down to Earth connection, where so much is stripped away and things are simple.”

  "I think it's really good that you are permitting yourself to just be and listening to your Heart for what it needs. And you'll be comfortable enough with Jacob?"

  “Oh, yeah. He’s like my rock.” As I say it, I realize how true it is.

  "Your Water is really low," Jackie says as she feels the radial pulse in my wrist. She resumes taking my pulses, bending over my arm slightly with her eyes closed, reminiscent of someone in prayer. "And your Heart has retreated. If the Heart fails, the whole kingdom fails too. Its Fire is almost out. We must restore the balance to Fire and Water."

  She lingers on my pulse a little longer, listening in. "Your Fire still has substance, though. I can work with that." As she inserts the tiny metal pins around my knees, ankles, and wrists, she continues, "You have to take better care of your Heart. It's the key Official for you. When the heart works, the whole kingdom of the body and soul are better."

  I let her words of wisdom sink in, already feeling the calming effect of the treatment. She takes my pulses one more time, nodding in satisfaction, before dimming the lights and leaving the room.

  The afterimages of the lights keep me company as I sink into that in-between state. Sometimes I fall asleep during the treatment, but today it feels like I'm dreaming while I'm still awake.

  Dad is scribbling with reckless abandon, trying to beat the timer. Mom is rattling off every thought that enters her head, “Eyeball octopus! Throw your hand away! Hillside! Earthquake! Miniature rainbows! Possessed pot of gold!” I can barely keep it together, holding my sides as I choke with laughter. I’m about nine or ten, with an armful of funny shaped colorful silicone rubber bracelets accentuating my movement to grab the timer.

  My glitter glossed lips still unable to speak, I resort to waving the timer above my head. Exasperated, Dad shouts, “Leapfrog!” Mom and I look at each other and then we both collapse in laughter, while Dad tries to defend repeated pictures of humps and hands with giant eyeballs. “Leap. Frog.” Dad enunciates, as he points to each illustration with vigor. I lean into my Mom, unable to support myself.

  “I thought it was that logo for those baked goods, you know that talking hand?” I blurt. I can feel my mom shaking with laughter.

  “Eyeball octopus?” Dad chuckles as he comes to Mom’s aid, who is sliding to the floor, almost rolling with laughter. He relents to our contagious breakdown, his full belly laugh music to my adult ears.

  I realize this is my epitome of innocence. A heart full of laughter and love, surrounded by my loved ones.

  When the heart works, the whole kingdom is better.

  Remembering this memory now, I feel like when we were happy, we were united and could handle anything. At some point, we broke and fractured. We failed.

  In my mind, I see my Dad kiss my Mom. I see them indulge me as I scramble through boxes, selecting the next board game.

  I realize happiness doesn't start with the environment, it starts with me. I have to choose to be happy. I have to make these kinds of moments last. I decide to be happy.

  “It's good to see you smile.” Jackie’s voice startles me. She brings the lights up and comes over, removing the acupuncture needles with practiced efficiency.

  "You've just taken a big hit and you're ungrounded and floundering. This treatment helped restore the fire-water connection, but now you need to tend the Earth.” She leans against the table as I rise to a sitting position.

  “Acupressure on Stomach 25," she touches spots on either side of my
belly button, "at least three times a day. And try to imagine a cord going from your belly connecting to the center of the Earth. When you lose your foundation, remember that your home resides where your heart is.”

  I place my hand over my heart in a familiar routine.

  “Bring up thoughts of the people you love. Let that center you and re-establish your home and foundation." She smiles at me as I nod and slide off the table.

  She hugs me goodbye, and I leave feeling renewed and hopeful, holding thoughts of Mom, Yasmin, and Jacob in my heart.

  chapter 6

  "I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE DOING THIS," Yasmin says as she stares at my almost full suitcase on the bed.

  I haven't explained to Yasmin for my sudden burning desire to go on this road trip, but she knows me and knows something has been up. And she trusts me to know that I need this. Hell, she probably figured it all out already and knows I'm just not ready to talk about it.

  "Yup." Always stick with the monosyllabic answers when the going gets tough. I turn my back to her and eyeball my closet for any last-minute additions.

  "You do remember that Jacob is a Swiftie, right? And that you'll be locked in a small metal box with him, with, like, nine speakers surrounding you?" I add a cute pleated skirt to the suitcase on my bed and she refolds it before smoothing it over its new companions.

  "Hey, I like Taylor. I'm just not Jacob-level liking. And it's only for, like, two weeks. You can deal with anything for that long. Anyway, we're going in an RV, not a car."

  I eyeball her handiwork. There is more room in there now that my clothes are folded like happy sardines in a can. I can add a few frivolous things.

  "That sounds costly."

  I grab a pair of small stones from my bookshelf cubby. My dad gave them to me. They are flint rocks, which can make sparks for campfires. Their color has turned from fog gray to the burnished gray of slate, oiled and well worn from my frequent handling. I snuggle them between the piles of clothes.

  "Yeah, except a family friend is loaning it to him as a graduation present. So, it's mostly gas and food. And I did try to talk him into letting me pay—"

  "Girl, you're not paying?" She’s so shocked, she drops the flint she was wrapping in my sock.

  "Jeesh, Yasmin, let me finish! So since he got this scholarship, his folks have the extra money they had saved for college and gifted him with it. He's figured with me, it'll be $3,000 max but probably more like $2,000, which is a splurge but just a portion of his new savings. It would be tons more without the free RV. His mom and dad are flying out when he gets there, and they'll drive it back. It'll be a mini-vacation for them, now that Jacob has flown the coop. Anyway, there's this Native American concept. Traditionally, they did not use money. But now they have Potlatch culture, where you're considered wealthy by how much you give away." I throw in a small travel box of assorted jewelry.

  "So you're a charity case." Her dubious tone matches her eyeing of my latest addition.

  "Hey, I'm allowing him to use me to feel wealthy! And he does need someone to share driving duty, but there are few people he knows that could fit the bill." I pull two flirty dresses off their hangers. I'm not dressing up for Jacob, but it feels nice to just dress up sometimes.

  "You guys have the weirdest relationship.” She looks up from organizing my jewelry, “But I get it. I'd offer to be a charity case if I was in your shoes. Actually, no, I wouldn't." She looks back down at the sorted jewelry, satisfied, and tucks the box into the netting lining my suitcase.

  "You really wouldn't want to go with us? This may be your last summer of freedom." I sink into the bed next to her.

  "I just remembered you and board games. He does remember that you're freakishly excited about board games, right?” The last two neatly folded dresses fill the suitcase to the brim.

  "I think the lady doth protest too much," I joke. She’s the only person I know who likes Shakespeare.

  "Well, no one asked me, but it would be nice to have someone see me off to college..."

  I knock her on the shoulder, "You know Jacob and I already talked about how awesome it would be if you joined us."

  She looks surprised and I'm amazed my best friend hasn't figured out on her own that we would want her there to complete our crew for the first leg of the trip.

  "He's planned this northern route, which takes us to Chicago, so it'd be stupid if you didn't come."

  "You mean he's realized he'll be stuck in a locked metal box with you and vintage Parcheesi. The boy can't abide games that are just luck and no strategy." She’s fiddling with my luggage strap and won’t meet my gaze.

  "Yasmin, seriously, tell me now before I get my hopes up. Or, actually, before I am even more emotionally invested in these hopes. I know you don't want to burn any bridges with your Auntie..." I tilt my head into her line of sight.

  "Yeah, traveling with a boy would be crazy,” she rolls her eyes. “Not nearly as crazy as loving a girl though.” She looks at me and I can tell the take-charge Yasmin I know is back in business.

  "You know, trailblazers burn bridges. It's an occupational hazard. I don't want to offend Auntie while I'm in her home, but this is my life. My last free summer, as a wise soul once eloquently, and with a little bit of sass, said."

  "So you can do it?" I flap the top to the luggage closed, glad it's all coming together.

  "Well, talk to Jacob for me about how we can be as surreptitious as possible. He's the details guy. I'll need room for my stuff. And a place to meet you. I'll take Uber there. I'm good at redirecting without lying. She'll presume I'm going to the airport."

  "Will do. Like I said, we talked about it, and we can get to Ann Arbor in one day. And, it's an RV that sleeps four. So, we've definitely got room!"

  ——— ———

  13-year-old Jacob's head is bent over something as he sits on the floor. I recognize his beat-up shoes and out of style hair cut. There's that weird necklace with the wood carving in the center that I used to tease him about. I even recognize the exact clothes he's wearing, because they are part of my first impression of him. This must be after school, on the day we first met.

  His head jerks up, and I realize he is straining to hear something. He unfolds to stand and tracks the sound to the TV in the living room. I see a drawing of a girl in his hand, but can’t make out any more. On the TV, Taylor Swift is promoting her new perfume, Wonderstruck. Jacob watches, captivated. Then, he turns and wakes up the desktop in the corner of the family room. I see him pull up the video for her song in the commercial, Enchanted. He smiles, and I think to myself that this is such an odd start to his Taylor obsession. Then, in the way only dreams can convey, as if he heard me and as if I was really there, he looks right at me.

  I awake with a start. What a weird dream. I should probably let up on the melatonin I’d been taking for my insomnia.

  chapter 7

  ONE WHIRLWIND WEEK, three calls to insurance companies, two suitcases (board games take a lot of room), tons of groceries, and one one-way plane ticket later, and Jacob and I are standing outside my house staring at a light tan 38' 2007 Fleetwood Terra RV. It's 6:30 in the morning and the plan is for me to practice driving a little, then rendezvous with Yasmin at the Park-n-ride parking lot off New Hampshire Avenue. There, she'll take her turn practicing, and then we're off. We should be in Ann Arbor by evening.

  Jacob gives me a quick tour of the RV — queen bed and sleeper sofa/couch, full bathroom with a skylight in the shower, kitchen with a stovetop and double sink, and even a ladder outside to chill on the rooftop. I'm filling the pantry up with supplies when through one of the many windows, I see my mom come out of the house. Jacob and I meet her in the driveway.

  "Hey, Jessica."

  "Hi Jacob. Thank you so much for changing your plans for Enya."

  "Like I told her, it's to my benefit. I am glad to have her along."

  I worry for a moment she'll go into awkward parent mode, eliciting promises of watching out after me and keeping
me safe, but she seems to second guess herself. She's probably reminding herself that I'll be with Jacob and Yasmin, so it goes without saying. We're already like family.

  But then Jacob goes and ruins it, "I'll take good care of her and make sure she stays out of trouble." Why everyone takes the word of a geek as trustworthy I'll never know.

  "Maybe I'll be taking care of you, you troublemaker," I mumble, and he slaps me on the back.

  "Yes, you will, by helping me drive. Now, get to!" He tosses me the keys.

  It's a behemoth of a vehicle, so intimidating I'm starting to balk at the whole idea. As if reading my thoughts, Jacob jokes, "No backing out now. I know you and Yasmin are a package deal, and that girl is up with the sun. I need her to drive this morning."

  "Well, I didn't know I'd need rock climbing gear this early in the trip," I grunt as I scale my way up the steps and into the cab. I ease into the driver's seat, which is more like a comfy family room chair. Jacob climbs in the other side and I see him stifling laughter as I meticulously adjust all the controls. This family friend knows Jacob is a smart, trustworthy, older-than-his-age kinda guy, and I don't want to throw any shade on that relationship. Both Jacob and his family friend were generous in letting Yasmin and me come along. If the cost of that is being the most fastidious driver ever (and I've had lots of practice) then I'll gladly pay up.

  "I don't think you have the angle of the steering wheel correct for the angle of your seat."

  I recheck the backrest and telescoping control, placing my hands exactly at three and nine o'clock to make sure everything is optimum, not too tense and not too loose. I read somewhere that the road is the most dangerous place in the world, so I'm serious when it comes to driving. Only when I pretend to practice driving, looking in the rearview mirror and pretending to turn the wheel, do I realize he's joking.

  I give him the stink eye, but he doesn't notice because he's too busy silently laughing. With a harrumph, I start the engine. It's surprisingly quiet. I look out the windshield and my mom seems extra small down there. She is waving and I feel kinda lame waving in response because I'll be back in a few minutes. I smile and her smile in return is one of those moments I wish I could physically capture and put in a keepsake box.