Most of the first hour of the drive was the same as the route I took to Modesto, but then I had to turn onto 580S to get to I-5, the main thoroughfare that runs up and down the entire west coast. In short order, the lovely and familiar landscape of the Bay Area had dropped away, and flat irrigated fields lined both sides of the freeway, with no picturesque landmarks to distract me. I pulled out the iPod, and plugged it in. The first few songs set a great mood for the first leg of the drive, and soon I was singing along and pounding away my anxiety by drumming my hands on the wheel.

The day slipped away, and the repetitive miles continued to zip past my window, until I saw a dismaying sight. Cows, thousands of them, were lined by the freeway, mingling around each other, miserably snuffling along the ground, looking for the tiniest blade of grass. The smell was God-awful and permeated everywhere, despite fiddling with the air controls. Without meaning to, I started crying. I decided to just keep driving, and focus on the music. Felix had tried to add some up-beat songs for this leg of the drive, but nothing could take away the despair all around me.

I finally pulled away from the ten or fifteen miles of cattle ranch, and slumped back in my seat in guilty relief. I spent the next several minutes wondering if I could give up meat, just to stop participating in such blatant disregard for life. I decided to stop for a rest break to get some air, and I pulled over a few miles outside of Bakersfield at a gas station.

I checked the maps of where I was going, and saw I was about an hour and a half outside of Los Angeles, where I would turn off of I-5 to Highway 10, on my way to Phoenix. I felt the thrill of the unknown, and decided to try and push further before stopping for the night. I could try and drive all the way to Phoenix, but there was really no rush. I wanted to enjoy the drive.

I hit some traffic in Los Angeles, and was held up an extra hour or so. I played the game of Faces in the car, watching the Southern California drivers and remembering all the crazy stories I’d heard of road rage down there. Slowly and steadily, I made my way to my split off to Hwy 10, and traffic picked up. I decided to stop in Palm Springs for the night.

I called Felix from my hotel room, and he teased me about the cattle ranches, and my weepy reaction. I could hear he was at work, rustling inventory, and the background laughing of a few unfamiliar voices. I felt a stab of anxiety for my solitude, and perversely, wanted to turn around and go home. I told Felix I would swim in the pool and think of him, and he cleared this throat in pain. Smiling through the phone, I told him to sleep well.

I headed into town to find some dinner, but changed my mind at the idea of sitting down in a restaurant by myself. I changed my order to be taken to go, and took it back to my hotel room. I sat on the bed, eating a deliciously large green salad with almonds, beets and lemon vinaigrette. I felt better about those poor cows, and curled up in front of a movie. I was too full of food and too comfortable to go to the pool, but Felix didn’t need to know that. Grinning wickedly, I fell asleep to the flickering story.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

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I hit the road again in the late morning, after having a mediocre breakfast. I drove through more flatlands, passed by the Joshua Tree National Park, the desert many shades of brown, with rising green hills around Blythe. Soon enough, the Arizona border loomed in sight. I felt a personal triumph that I was leaving my home state for the first time ever, and doing it all on my own. I made a mental note of the terrain, and felt a stab of sadness that Dad wasn’t there to witness my adventure. I thought of him more and more, now that I could trust myself to do so. A month ago, thinking of him would’ve threatened me with near-catatonia. I wished he were with me.

Arizona was not what I thought it would be. It was more rugged and textured than I’d imagined. I had assumed it was a scorching blond sandy floor, with no hills or vegetation. But there was depth to the colors around me, and plenty of vegetation, even if the blooms were dormant at the moment. I sped straight through to Phoenix, aiming to arrive in the mid-afternoon. I wasn’t sure what to say when I met Shake, and my thoughts turned from the outer terrain to my inner landscape. I checked the map a few times, and headed for the visitor information center in the downtown area.

A very nice older lady gave me the information on where the circus was located, and how to get there. I thanked her, and drove across town to the convention center. As I made my way through the labyrinth of the parking lot, there were trucks being unloaded by teams of people, all working like a well-oiled machine. Men and women bustled back and forth, ignoring me completely. My nerves were already at a fever pitch and I was too intimidated to ask them about Shake directly. I felt light-headed, foolish for driving all this way, and especially for facing her so soon after Dad. I kept pushing my way through the layers of movement, and found a semi-official looking RV with OFFICE written on the side.

I stood in front of the door, suddenly feeling very alone and terrified. A few minutes passed, and a gigantically muscular man pushed past me, glaring, and knocked on the door. The door opened quickly.

“Yes?” said a tall man with sharp eyes. He had the look of a chameleon, and I could see he would change his demeanor in a second depending on his mood.

“I need the key to the pass through for the tiger, to get him set up for the show.”

“Fine, wait here.” The tall man shut the door, and the muscle man looked at me suspiciously, without a single word. A few seconds later, the tall man came back, saying, “Return this to me in 15 minutes. Who is this woman?”

“No idea, sir.”

They both evaluated me, looking me up and down. Realizing how ridiculous it was that I’d allowed the conversation to go on as if I wasn’t there, I cleared my throat, and stood a little taller.

“I’m looking for Shake. She knows I’m coming, and told me to check with you.”

The tall man’s eyes sharpened, and he stepped out of his trailer. He shut the door firmly, waving off the muscle man with a nod. He took my arm and started leading me deeper into the maze. I considered yanking away from him, but didn’t want to be rude. He was clearly taking me directly to her. I tried to calm my breathing, reminding myself this was my idea.

We arrived in front of a small RV, and he knocked impatiently at the door.

I heard rustling inside through the same open window from which the golden light spilled. “Just a second!” I heard a woman’s voice call. My mother’s voice. My. Mother.

He had released my arm, and I felt unsteady on my feet.

I held my breath.

The door opened.