Alexa’s car is an old, worn-down pickup truck that must have hundreds and hundreds of miles on it, but it’s my favorite place in the world. We sit beneath a lamppost every night, letting the soft glow of the lightbulb and the moon bathe us in luminescence; it feels safe, and warm, and infinite. The park is always empty by the time we reach our spot, right beside a rickety swing set. It creaks back and forth with the wind, always in motion- just like our minds.

“My mom wants me home soon,” I say. I pull my fleece blanket over my body, letting it shield me from the inevitable. It must be midnight, but I can’t tell through the sheen of fog that covers the windshield.

“Okay,” Alexa responds, putting her car into drive, “but we can come back tomorrow, right?”

I shake my head. “No,” I say. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Alexa doesn’t answer me- instead, she turns her speakers all the way to the highest volume, drowning out the voice inside my head that shouts, I don’t have to leave! I’ll stay!

As she pulls out of the parking space that has become our refuge, I put out a hand to stop her. She turns to me with a questioning look on her face, but I just shrug. “Wanna take the long way home?” 

She turns out of the parking lot and to the left; then, she makes a right. I watch through the window as cars whiz past, carrying different people with different lives. We’re going over the speed limit, but it doesn’t matter- this moment could as well be the very last, and I would die free. 

“Where are we going?” I yell over the wind and the sound of engines, creating a cacophony of noise that I lean into. 

“I have no idea,” Alexa shouts back. She keeps driving, gripping onto the steering wheel and humming to the song that blares from the speakers. 

“A year from now, we’ll all be gone, all our friends will move away. They’re going to better places; our friends will be gone away.” 

Eventually, we turn into the parking lot of the IHop. For a moment, I wonder why we’re here, but Alexa gestures towards the window.

“Do you see us?” she asks, and after a few seconds of staring, I do. 

We’re two years younger, corralled into a booth at the very corner of the restaurant with our best friends. The smiles on our faces, and our sharp barks of melodious laughter, tell me that we had no idea what would happen next. We were so young, our faces bright and dripping with the sort of youth that comes with summers spent eating pancakes and driving down to the beach. I want to snap a picture with my phone, but I know that this scene is meant to live on in our memories, not in my camera roll. 

“I miss that,” I say, my voice bare with longing. “I miss us.” 

“We’re still here,” Alexa says. “We’ll be here forever, even when we’re apart.” 

We watch our younger selves clamber into a car, driving off towards another adventure. I don’t have to ask to follow, because Alexa steps on the gas and trails behind them. We head down the highway for minutes on end; my younger self tosses her head out of the window, blowing sweet smoke out of her mouth and into the air.

“She was so stupid,” I say. 

“She was beautiful,” Alexa says. 

Our next stop is in front of the ferry. I wonder why we’re here, but then I watch our friend, Tommy, open the car door. He turns back to us and waves; I’m hit with a sense of finality, wrapped loosely around my senses until I can’t decipher which me I am- the sixteen year old version, or the eighteen year old version. My body feels lived-in, but my heart still feels fragile and young. 

“He’s leaving,” I cry, but Alexa soothes me with a gentle hand on my shoulder. 

“He’ll come back,” she says. “He’ll always come back.” 

A part of me knows this is true, but the other part yearns for another day, another night, spent in his room, screaming to Broadway soundtracks. We watch with bated breath as he climbs onto the ferry and sails away, towards a new home he’s found across state lines. 

We’re driving again, our destination unknown. I count each road sign we pass, and each turn we make. The radio is still playing the same song- the song about new beginnings and bittersweet endings. I want to shut it off, but we stop driving before I can. 

“Where are we?” I ask, but then I recognize my surroundings: Tommy’s house. It looks different- the trees in his yard haven't been cut down yet, and they stand tall, casting a shadow over the roof. It’s not summer anymore; it’s winter. 

I look even younger, my face bare from makeup, my hair in two braids. I’m carrying a small bag and a card, opening the door and rushing into the house, squealing when I see Tommy and Alexa waiting for me. 

“Aw, I remember this!” I exclaim. “This is the night we became friends with Juliette.” 

Alexa smiles and nods. “I don’t really know what we’d do without her.” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without any of you,” I say. “I’m so scared.” 

We don’t talk; we just watch through the window as Tommy blows out the candles on his seventeenth birthday cake, closing his eyes as he makes a wish. I hope it came true. 

“We have one more stop before I drop you off,” Alexa says from beside me. 

I don’t know how long we’ve been sitting here, watching our friendship blossom in front of our eyes, but I nod my head. I’m ready to go, because if we stay here for much longer, I’d jump out of the car and run into the safety of his house- the safety of a few more years together. 

Alexa drives us back from where we came, into the parking space under the lamppost. It’s daytime now, the sun shedding its light on the top of our heads. I’m confused, but then Alexa snaps her fingers, gesturing for me to look out of the windshield. 

Kids run back and forth, scuffing their sneakers in the dirt. I don’t recognize any of them, and I tell Alexa as much. 

“Just wait,” she says, so I do. 

After a few more minutes, I spot a group of four adults, trailing behind the children. It takes a few seconds to catch a glimpse of their faces, but when I finally do, I gasp. 

I’m older, my hair littered with grey strands and my skin etched with wrinkles. We all look older, the history on our faces reflected through our smiles. Together, we walk towards a new sunrise. A new beginning. Or maybe we’re living in a world that has no beginning and end; we’re just existing to live and love and lose. 

“You’ll be a bridesmaid at my wedding,” Alexa says. “I’ll go to your book signings and we’ll go visit Tommy and his husband in Connecticut. Juliette will teach my kids sign language. We’ll go to each other’s funerals until only one of us is left, and then we’ll all live on in their memories.” She smiles. “You’re leaving tomorrow, but it doesn’t mean you’re leaving us.” 

Our future selves morph back into our younger selves, the sky fading back to black, and I realize that not much has changed. The lamppost above us still flickers, the pickup truck still hums, our hearts still beat in sync. I check the clock: it’s twelve a.m. 

“My mom wants me home soon,” I say, but this time, my voice isn’t tainted with fear- it’s ablaze with hope. 

“Okay,” Alexa says. “Turn the speaker on.” 

We drive, we drive, past the streets we’ve encountered hundreds of times- the streets we’ll encounter forever. We drive to the very beginning, the very middle, and the very end. 

“Rivers and roads, ‘till I reach you.”