With our destination decided, Parker increases our speed, and I reach forward to turn on the radio as the scenery flies past in hues of green, brown, and blue. I suppose out of all the lives I could’ve woken up to, this one is pretty damn great in terms of location. Pender Falls is nestled in the mountains, an alcove of forests and lakes, and a hop, skip, and a jump away from the ocean. Everything else I could do without, but at least the town is nice to look at.

We drive through the downtown core, where rows of quaint, vintage-looking shops and restaurants line the streets. In an effort to distract myself from the discomfort of being stuck in a car with my sister’s boyfriend, I try to envision myself having had a life here, walking along the sidewalk with the sunlight filtering through the branches of the oak trees, window shopping, grabbing a bite to eat. It’s hard to picture, and I find myself wondering if I ever really felt like I belonged.

When I can’t stand the silence anymore, I turn to Parker. “Have you lived in Pender Falls your whole life?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I grew up here. It’s a nice little town. But, you know, it’s small. People talk.”

“I’ve noticed,” I remark, unable to hide the bitterness from my voice as I think about all the conversations I failed to tune out today.

Parker cringes, then signals a left turn that leads us away from the main hub. I watch the people in my side mirror gradually disappear. “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “Can you blame them, though? It’s not every day something like this happens. Your circumstances are very unique.”

“I’m not an alien.”

“You’re right. But it’ll get better. They’ll find something new to talk about eventually,” he says quietly, before returning to his normal volume. “For now, I have something that will take your mind off everything.”

“You’re really hyping this place up.”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Eventually, we reach the outskirts of Pender Falls, driving along a gravel path surrounded by trees that blot out the sun, making it feel closer to night than day. We arrive at a parking lot where a rickety sign reads Boulder Trail. Parker turns the key in the ignition, sitting back to appraise my reaction.

“We’re here,” he announces.

I raise an eyebrow. “Hiking?”

“It’s more of a leisurely walk, nothing too strenuous.” He passes me a yellow raincoat, and I take it gingerly, peering at the sky. All the gloom from this morning has completely melted away and it’s bright and clear now. His mouth twitches. “Just put it on and follow me.”