Personal Narrative: The Drive To Mendocino

Words: 797
Pages: 4

The drive to Mendocino takes three hours along scenic Highway 1 along California’s Pacific Coast. The route is familiar, since Mark and I drove there often when we lived in Berkeley. During the drive, I’m curious to know more about Beth. Mark doesn’t hold back.
Mark and Beth met at UC Berkeley. They were in the same biological anthropology class. Often during the lectures, he’d catch her looking at him. He smiled and one day walked up to her outside of class. They talked about the class assignment, to write an essay on what an anthropologist 100 years from now would think of the objects in their apartments, dorms or homes. Mark was a proficient writer. He had already completed the assignment which was unusual for him. But the topic intrigued
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I wasn’t ready, but what the hell. This amazing woman loved me.” His eyes lock into mine.
“We have a daughter, Chloe… the true love of my life.”
“That’s amazing.”
“So is being a dad… it’s awesome.”
It stings to hear that he’s a father. Since, we often discussed becoming parents despite both of us being terrified at the prospect. Still, I am happy for him. Even though, it’s strange his life turned out this way.
At last, we arrive at a B&B secluded in an area surrounded by coastal redwoods. Inside the office, a young woman greets. Mark introduces me. Then, right after, a young guy picks up my overnight bag. I turn to Mark.
“How did you find this place?”
“My ex-wife and I own it,” he says, “A profitable investment.” Mark’s full of bombshells. I’d better get used to it. Meanwhile, I follow the young guy to my room. The room’s warm and comfy with a wood-burning fireplace, and an ocean view. There’s no television. Cell phones allowed, but only in the room. Okay with me, I won’t miss the noise.
I unpack and reach for Malcolm’s book. I brought the book to read before bed, as a reminder, to see the magnificence in all beings. I take a deep breath and aim to
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But maybe you and your fiancé could get back together?”
I shake my head. “It’s been months. I’m sure he’s moved on in his life.” I drink more wine to avoid further talk.
Just in time, the server arrives with our lunch. The summer salad with fresh mango, mixed greens, sliced almonds and goat cheese is delicious. The second course is Mendocino Sand Dabs with lemon aioli, asparagus and jasmine rice. I’m impressed.
“The food’s so fresh.” “The chef buys everything at the farmer’s market, and the fish is local. Then, he keeps the flavors simple.”
After our meal, Mark has to work. But later, we’re invited to his friend’s house for dinner. He offers his car for me to drive into the town. I accept, although, by-pass the town and head to the ocean.
I park and walk along the headlands. The smell of the ocean invigorates, and I walk and watch waves crash the rocks. A young couple passes with their arms entwined. Mark and I walked this beach like them. We held hands carefree. I remember that my scarf blew off in the wind, and he chased it. What fun we had that day. I wanted our time there to be a panacea. But the end of our relationship would be not long after our time in