Page 119 of The Man I Hate

“Did you see the movie The Breakfast Club?” I asked.

“Sweetheart, I don’t think so,” she replied. “It sure doesn’t sound familiar.”

“There were five high school kids who were all given detention at the same time,” I explained. “There was a criminal, an athlete, a prom queen, a nerd, and a manically depressed girl. Needless to say, they weren’t remotely close to one another when they started their little venture. But in the end, they were all, like, best friends. They ended up liking each other because they were locked up together for 9 hours in the lunchroom. If they were left to their own devices, they would have never met, and they certainly wouldn’t have become friends.”

“What brings a couple together is of little value,” she said without giving the matter much time for thought. “The common ground that’s shared between them becomes the glue that holds them together.”

“That’s a concern.” I lowered my head. “We haven’t been able to explore each other’s likes and dislikes much because we’ve been confined to the house.”

“Sweetheart, you’re worrying about what hasn’t happened instead of being grateful for what has.” She lifted my head with her weathered hand. “Keep your chin up.”

I smiled. The world’s voice of reason came from the elderly. Their time on earth allowed them to give advice based on experience, not opinion. She was right. I needed to appreciate what I had instead of grieving over what I didn’t.

“Thank you,” I said.

She nodded toward my house. Her face wore a look of sheer satisfaction. “How long is he staying?”

I glanced over my shoulder. Dressed in a pair of gray shorts, a white tee shirt, and running shoes, Hap was stretching his arms over his head.

“Oh. I’m not sure.” I chuckled. “Until he pisses Braxton off, I’m sure. I like having him around. He reminds me of my dad.”

She waved her hand toward Braxton’s house. “Why don’t you run along, sweetheart. I’m going to see if that poor soul needs a glass of tea. He looks dehydrated.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said with a laugh. “I’m going to see if Braxton and I have any common ground.”

“I’m going to do the same thing,” she said. “With him.”

Braxton

The drive along the Pacific Coast Highway was one of the most scenic drives in the United States. With time on our hands, we voted to drive north, turn around, and then drive all the way from San Francisco to San Diego, along the coast.

With most of the state’s businesses still shut down, traffic was nearly non-existent. The 12-hour drive was reduced to just over 7 hours. It allowed us to make the drive without worrying about taking the time to see a few of the sights.

Starting from the Golden Gate Park, we began the journey. It was the first time Anna had seen the Golden Gate Bridge. She cried tears of joy upon seeing it, but it seemed lately that nearly everything made her cry.

Monterey was our next stop, with Monterey Bay and Point Lobos State National Reserve being the major points of interest. I stared at the highway ahead in disbelief of the open road. It was something I’d never seen in Southern California.

“Now that the state is declining on death count and infections, it won’t be long before this highway is packed again,” I said. “We better enjoy this while we can. One of these day’s it’s going to be bumper to bumper traffic again.”

Anna peered beyond the rock cliffs, toward the vast sea of indigo blue. “Now I know why people move to California. This is completely different than Sherman Oaks.”

“It sure as fuck is,” Hap agreed. “This is God’s country.”

“It’s beautiful,” Anna said, wiping the corner of her eye with the knuckle of her index finger.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’ve been cooped up too long.” She gestured toward the ocean. “This is breathtaking. I mean, really. What do you expect?”

It had been a lifetime since I’d driven the length of the PCH. I’d nearly forgotten just how beautiful it was. The pandemic forced me to pause and take a look at many things, not all of which were beautiful to see. I was grateful I was able to view each and every one of them with open eyes.

“Wait till you see Big Sur from the Bixby Bridge.” I gave her a kiss. “You’ll bawl like a baby.”

The entire drive was scenic, but parts of it were far more beautiful than others. For 600 miles, the highway followed the coast, taking the most natural route along the edge of the countryside’s valleys, hills, cliffs, and mountains.

When driving south, the left side of the vehicle gave views of rock ledges, homes that overlooked the sea, small fishing villages, and sprawling cities. On the right, the Pacific Ocean lashed against the California coast.

I looked at Hap. “When was the last time you took this drive? All the way?”