Driving back from Charlotte in the dark. Only the lines and signs and flicks of reflected light decorate the black. We could be anywhere. We could be the only ones. Watt at the wheel, me as co-pilot with no navigation required, Jake and Tucker in the far back, long legs stretching into the seatless belly of the van. We play the radio game. How is Tucker acquainted with Lenny Kravitz and Lynyrd Skynyrd? Where did he learn his disdain for Aerosmith? I know no names at all but can sing along to almost every old song. Everybody laughs.

Gus has taken the summer job in Charlotte. Everything is reeling in. The way home carries us at it's own speed.