These flings of ours go on non-stop for two weeks. We spend all our time together. Whenever I’m not working, I’m with him, either at his shop or in his loft. I even meet his friends. It was awkward, to say the least. When he introduced me, he turned and looked at me as if I had all the answers. I had no idea what to say, so to be safe, I said, “friend.” He lifted an eyebrow and I shrugged. What did he expect? “Hi, I’m Fiona, Max’s fuck-buddy?” Neither of us brought it up after that. The whole thing was very confusing.

It takes me those entire two weeks to finish the audio book. I feel bad for putting it off so long and not getting to the other envelopes from Kia’s bucket list.

Instead of going to Max’s after work like I’ve been doing lately, I go home and grab the box of envelopes from my night stand. Keeping up with tradition, I take my glass and a bottle of wine and head for the porch.

It’s windy out today, and a bit cold. It’s an overcast sky and it smells like there might be rain coming. I love that smell. I bundle up in the blanket I brought out with me and prop my feet up on the chair opposite of me and read the third envelope.

Envelope #3:

Dear Fiona,

Did you love the book? I knew you would. Ready for #3? I’m not sure you are since you scare easily. Remember as kids, how we used to always talk about doing that terrifying ghost tour in Savannah, Georgia someday? Well, someday is now. I know you can do this. You’re braver than you think you are. Now, go prove me right. No time to waste!

Love always,

Kia

I put the card down. I’d forgotten all about the tour we’d been talking about since we were kids. I can’t even remember what was on the tour, so I grab my phone and Google it. The tour stops at ten different locations: Abercorn Street where it’s supposed to be haunted by a little girl who died of dehydration from a punishment doled out by her relentless father, and three sisters who were murdered there while on vacation from Florida. Just thinking about it gives me chills and reminds me why I was so excited to go on the tour as a kid. I was the chicken out of me and Kia, but for some reason, I loved to be scared, loved the rush and the adrenaline—as long as it was from the safety of my own couch, of course. But I wanted more than that. I wanted a real fright, hence the tour.

The next stops on the tour are the Bonaventure Cemetery, Calhoun Square, the Olde Candler Hospital Morgue Tunnel (that gives me the creeps by the name alone), then Sorrel-Weed house—the most popular on the list. There are a few other stops on the tour and all of them ring vague bells from discussions Kia and I had years ago.

Kia and I had the whole adventure planned but somehow, life just kept getting in the way and we never went. The tour takes a day or two, plus the drive. I’ll be there at least a week. Going alone doesn’t sound like much fun though, but I can’t ask Max to drop everything and go with me. I saw his schedule and it’s packed. It’s bad enough that he’s been pushing clients to the side just to hang out with me. I could wait, I suppose, but I already feel really guilty about neglecting Kia’s bucket list to spend all my time with Max. I need to do this for her.

I look at the box of envelopes. What if more of them involve traveling? Though I have a ton of vacation time saved up that I haven’t used, I can’t just leave work on short notice every time Kia has a task for me. Kia knows I’m a planner. She’ll understand if I read ahead.

I look at the box of envelopes on the table and pull on my bottom lip. What should I do? Should I cheat and open more, or do as the instructions say?

“Kia, why do you do this to me?” I say.

I feel like she’s fucking with me from the grave. That would be so her. I bet if she could see me right now, she’d be laughing. It makes me smile to think so. Why would she be any different in death than she was in life?

With a deep, unsure breath, I open envelope #4

Dear Fiona,

You couldn’t help yourself, could you? You just had to read ahead.

I look around as if waiting to see an apparition of her. My heart hammers in my chest. How the hell did she know I would read ahead? I look back down at the envelope and keep reading.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I knew you would read ahead …

Oh, my god. This is getting creepy.

It’s because you’re my best friend and I know you better than anyone. I knew you couldn’t just let it be, and go live your life like a wild and free person because you are too respectful of others and I love you for it. Go ahead and read the rest of the envelopes—except for the last one. DON’T read that one yet. I promise you it’s not another call to adventure.

Love Always,

Kia

Less creepy. My best friend knew me better than anyone else ever has. I pour myself a glass of wine. The first raindrops start to fall. I listen to the soothing tap of droplets hitting the awning above me. Then I move on to envelope five.

Envelope #5

Dear Fiona,

After you get your scare on in Georgia, you must go to Peru and see Machu Picchu. See the Inca Trail and the Lares Valley. Take in the glaciers of Mount Veronica and the bluest alpine lake you’ll ever see. Explore the ruins. I know you’re probably wondering how you’re going to pay for such a lavish trip, but I’m sure my mom told you that I had money saved up and I want you to have it. It’s enough to pay for everything I have on the list. If I know you like I think I know you, you probably told her you didn’t want the money and insisted that she keep it to help with funeral costs—I told my mom you would say that and she laughed because she knew it too. I also told her to set it aside until you came to your senses. So take the damn money. I worked hard for that shit and I want you to have it. Happy travels.

Love always,

Kia

I laugh. It happened just as she said. Her mom came up to me at the wake and told me about the money Kia had saved and wanted me to have. I told her mom to keep it to help with the funeral and that all I wanted were a few keepsakes to remember Kia. It struck me as odd when her mom chuckled and started to cry. I thought she was just grateful for the money—even though her family is well-off financially—but now I know it’s because it happened just as Kia said it would. Her mom then sent me home with a car full of boxes of Kia’s belongings. The ones that are stacked up in my closet.

My stomach hurts. I push my glass of wine away from me, head spinning from all this information—or maybe it’s the wine. I drank half the bottle without even realizing it. Still, it’s overwhelming. Kia wants me to go to Georgia, and then Peru? I’ve never even been out of the United States. There’s so much to think about: where to stay, when to travel. I’ll need to get a passport. This was not what I was expecting, and a far leap from sleeping with a stranger and reading Pride and Prejudice! I’m afraid to see what’s next.

Slowly, with drunken, clumsy fingers, I open the next envelope.

Envelope #6

Dear Fiona,

Next on your vacation destination is … are you ready for? Are you sure? You’re going to lose your shit, because it’s amazing. Drum roll, please … SCOTLAND! Remember how we always wanted to go the Lochs and see Nessie? Now is your chance! Also, there is something seriously sexy about kilts, bagpipes, and Scottish accents.

Love always,

Kia

Scotland? Jesus, what next? Don’t get me wrong, I’m totally excited to go to these places. It’s been a life-long dream of mine, but we’re talking at least a month’s worth of travel. I’ll have to put everything in my life on hold. There’s one more envelope to read before getting to the last one. I can’t imagine where else she could possibly want me to go. Savannah, Peru, and Scotland were the only destinations we ever talked about going together. And all of them were my ideas. I think back, trying to remember if she ever talked about anything else, things only she wanted to do that didn’t have my signature all over them. She was an adrenaline junky, loved to skydive, and wanted to swim with the sharks, but none of those things are in here.

My gaze creeps over to the other two envelopes and suddenly I’m filled with dread. Oh God. There’s no way. She wouldn’t … but what if she would? I have to draw the line somewhere.

I pick up the next envelope as if it were the tip of a rattlesnake’s tail and open it.

Envelope #7

Dear Fiona,

Are you totally pumped for your adventures? The next one isn’t as glamourous as world travel, but it’s important to me. It’s something we always talked about doing. I want you to go to my hometown and go to that little ice cream shop I loved as a kid. It doesn’t sound like much, but trust me, you won’t be sorry. You’ve never had ice cream like it before. It reminds me of a time when everything was right with the world.

That’s all for the big adventures. I promise. Please don’t read on. I swear the last envelope won’t rip you from your routine or put you out in any way. I just need you to wait until later to read it. Have fun on your adventures. I will be there with you in spirit.

Love always,

Kia.

I slump against my chair. Thank God. No extreme sports or anything that will put me in danger. Her hometown isn’t that far away. It seems like a strange destination after Peru and Scotland, but she had her reasons and I’m sure I’ll find out what they are in the last envelope.

I put the box of envelopes away, leaving the last one untouched like she asked.

I think about all the traveling I’m about to do and I try to be happy about it. She should be here with me, going to these places we dreamed of. It’s not fair. I’m drunk, and mad, and want to break things. I decide to go to the gym, burn off the booze and the heartbreak.

* * *

After getting home from the gym, I feel much better. I decide to call Kia’s mom and make arrangements for my trips. We end up talking the rest of the night about all the things Kia and I used to do when I slept over at their house. Sometimes it felt like I lived there. It’s where I spent most of my childhood. My own mom wasn’t exactly what you would call mother of the year. She was more than happy to let me stay at Kia’s to get me out of her hair.

Kia’s mom tells me about how Kia’s and my constant laughter used to drive her crazy, and sometimes she’d have to make us go downstairs so she could get some sleep. We laugh and reminisce for hours. I tell her about the envelopes and she tells me she was there when Kia wrote them. I can barely keep my eyes open by the time we hang up.

The next morning, I check my bank account and see a lot more money than I was expecting. How long had she been saving up? It must’ve been her entire life. Maybe her mom added to the pot, I don’t know. There’s no point in speculating. It’s there and it’s more than enough to take me on these trips.

There’s a lot to do in preparation. First, I call work and talk to my manager. She tells me to take the time off without even hesitating. I tell her what my plans are, and about Kia’s bucket list. The only thing she asks from me is to keep in touch so she knows I’m safe and to take a ton of pictures so all the girls at work can live vicariously through me. I agree to do just that. It’s going to be weird with all this time to myself. I’m such a workaholic.

After Kia passed, I never took any time off to grieve. Instead I threw myself into my work to keep distracted from all the emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with yet. I still don’t know if I’m ready to deal with them. But having all this time to myself will probably force those emotions to the forefront of my mind. Who knows, maybe this was Kia’s grand scheme, dragging me on an Eat, Pray, Love adventure in order for me to cope with her passing. If that’s the case, I hope it works.

Next, if I go hiking in Peru, I need new hiking boots and a backpack to carry my stuff. I’m excited to go and a little sad. I’ve decided I’m not going to tell Max about the trips. It’s better just to rip this band aid off. Out of sight, out of mind, right? I can’t bring myself to face him. I know if I do, I’ll want to stay with him, or ask him to go with me, and I can’t do either of those things right now. I can’t push my emotional baggage onto him and ask him to set everything aside so I can live out my best friend’s last wishes. It’s not fair.

Ghosting him isn’t a nice thing to do, and it’s not what I want to do, but I feel it’s better this way. That sounds horrible, but it’s easier for both of us. He probably won’t even notice I’m gone after a day or two. It’s not like he has any kind of emotional investment in me. We were just having fun. And it was fun. A LOT of fun.

I close my eyes. Don’t think about him.

First is my trip to Savannah. That’s an easy one. All I need is a suitcase and enough clothes to last me a week. I decide to drive instead of fly. Truth is, I’m afraid of flying. Since I have no choice but to fly over seas to Peru and Scotland, I decide to stick to land on my way to Georgia. Besides, taking in the different roadside attractions on the way should be fun. The South has a lot of history and culture. There’s plenty for me to see and do along the way.

Before I leave, I go to the book store and buy an audio book of Emma, another Jane Austen novel to listen to along the way. While I’m there, I pass by the same tattoo book I saw when I was buying Pride and Prejudice. I pick it up and look through the pages. Bad idea. Now I can’t stop thinking about Max. In the book is a list of the meanings behind certain tattoos.

First, I look up the meaning for the stag that covers his chest. It means masculinity and virility. The wolf means loyalty and family. The eagle means courage and focus. I don’t know if he got those tattoos to mean those specific things, or if there is any meaning behind them at all, but if it’s any indication of his personality, it makes perfect sense.

As I leave the book store, I take one last look around the town I’m attached to, whose city limits I haven’t left in years, and say a silent goodbye before getting on the road.

I end up having a lot of fun on my journey. I stop at a restaurant dedicated to peaches and try everything on the menu. Cobbler, a burger topped with a grilled peach and peach barbeque sauce, and homemade peach mead which I decided to drink until I was wasted—part of that decision had to do with how much I missed Max. Luckily, I left my phone in the car at the motel so there was no drunk texting. The next morning I’m hungover and hating life. I swear, if I even taste a single thing made from the fuzzy fruit again I will vomit. I need to stop hiding my emotions behind alcohol and start dealing with them head on. That’s a lot harder said than done, but that’s going to be part of my mission on these trips.

The tour itself is a lot of fun. There’s so much to see and do and the whole tour was as spooky as I hoped it would be. It’s easy to keep my mind preoccupied. The problem is that first night when I’m alone in my motel room and my text alert goes off. I sit in the bed, a movie playing in the background for noise to keep things from getting too lonely. I stare at my phone screen, the message that says it’s from Max, but I don’t open it at first. As much as I try to stop myself from reading it, I know it will haunt me if I don’t read it and it will be far more bothersome than any of the ghosts on the tour.

I open it.

Max: Hungry?

Of course he still thinks I’m in town. I look at the clock in the corner of my phone screen. He’ll be getting off work about now. We’ve already fallen into a bit of a routine since we started hanging out more often. I’m sure when I don’t answer he’ll think I’ve fallen asleep. It won’t be a big deal. I put my phone on the charger and it stays silent the rest of the night.

The next day I explore more of the sights of the old city. I try on dresses for an old fashioned Southern belle photoshoot, and go to a huge makeup store they have in the mall to look for items to add to my kit at home. I get another text from Max.

Max: You awake yet? Want to get breakfast?

A lump forms in the back of my throat. Ignoring him isn’t going to be easy, but he’ll give up. He’s too good-looking and confident to sit around and wait for a girl as basic as me.

I turn off the phone and put it in my purse for the rest of the day. I don’t check it again until I’m on my way home. I don’t want to look at it even then, but I need to book my flight to Peru. There are five text messages and several missed calls and voicemails. I don’t even look at them. It will be easier to ignore him when I leave the country. Where I’m going in Peru, there won’t be much in the way of cell service and I don’t want technology ruining this experience for me. I book my flight and put my phone away again.