A short story about a divorced man who mapped out an unexpected future on the road.
Jeff fit a heavy-duty trash can bag inside a new five-gallon paint bucket and poured in cheap cat litter. He pushed the makeshift toilet under the sturdy bed frame he built.
He crouched down and arranged two bags of groceries in a mini-fridge outfitted beneath a live-edge kitchen countertop. The solar panel on the roof of the vehicle would keep the refrigerator and coffee maker going and also provide a decent charge for his cell phone. The propane-fueled one-burner cooktop would serve as his sole cooking source.
Jeff moved his mountainous frame to the passenger seat and swiveled it backward. He surveyed the rudimentary furnishings he cobbled together that would now serve as his home.
When Paula filed for divorce last spring, she insisted they sell their house. Jeff’s share of the equity fell in the low five figures. Another victim of pandemic unemployment for over a year, his options for new housing proved dismal. With equal nods to faith and desperation, Jeff sunk his cash into a twenty-one-year-old van. He assembled the absolute basics to provide creature comforts in a seven-foot-wide “house”.
For the foreseeable future, home would be wherever Jeff parked it. This new life fell several country miles from where he expected to be as he circled his fortieth birthday. Still, he felt intermittent waves of excitement about where he might land in Van Life.
Jeff’s heart quickened when he looked out the passenger window and saw Paula strolling confidently toward the cafe entrance. Hair in a messy updo, she wore a clingy, white cotton dress she knew he always favored. In a fit of loneliness, he had agreed to meet Paula for lunch. He knew now it had been a mistake. Jeff watched through the cafe window as a waiter seated Paula at a nearby table.
God, it would be so easy. Just rush to her side and hope for old times to become new again. He could park the van inside the garage of a new home they picked out together. If anyone asked, he would tell the story of his impulsive decision to buy it with a sheepish grin. Instead, Jeff bolted to the driver’s seat and fired up the engine. A laugh escaped him as he peeled out of the parking lot, leaving his old life in the rearview mirror.
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River Writer Eve 