Ends of the Earth

Jason had to smile. “My deepest apologies.” Bacon sizzled in the pan, the salty aroma wafting through the air. Jason glanced around at the encroaching wilderness and fished their can of bear spray out of the tent, keeping it close by.

As Maggie cracked eggs into the pan, Jason grabbed his sketchpad and pencils from the tent. It was silly of him to always keep his pad by the bed at home and stash one in his car—and even bring it all the way to the middle of nowhere. He knew that. He was never going to art school, and he’d never be a real artist.

Standing under the rising Montana sun with pine needles beneath his sneakers, he let himself think of what it would have been like to go to Parsons or CalArts or the Rhode Island School of Design. He imagined being immersed in art, making real friends who understood him, living on campus and going to parties and all the stupid stuff he’d dreamed of since he was a kid.

His prep school friends had gone off to college and careers and forgotten him, especially after he left home and moved across town. He could still remember the gape-mouthed horror on Colin Nason and Richard Wong’s faces when he’d told them he was keeping Maggie and getting his own place, even if it was only a tiny studio apartment. They couldn’t fathom why he wouldn’t let his parents take her, saying the same thing everyone else did.

“But you’re too young.”

Even now that he was twenty-five and an official adult, people still didn’t think he was old enough to be a father. Didn’t think he was good enough. He’d prove them all wrong. He’d made the right choice, even if it had meant no art school.

Shaking his head, Jason snorted to himself. As if his parents would have let him go to art school anyway. No, it would have been an Ivy League business degree for him. A suit and tie and shiny leather loafers in a soulless high-rise. No smudges of charcoal on his fingers, no pencils flying across paper.

He ran his fingertips over the smooth edges of his sketchpad. It was only a cheap one from Staples, although a little voice hissed that he could get them for even less at the Dollartown in the strip mall. Guilt slithered through him. He shouldn’t spend a penny on himself before Maggie had everything she needed and more.

It was ridiculous anyway. He was never going to create story illustrations or comic books like the ones he’d loved to read since he was a kid. His art was never going to be anything. Yet the lure of pencils and paper called to him, and he opened his pad, knowing he should be a better father.

He sat on a fallen log and sketched a few pages of the campsite and mountains rising across the wide horizon beyond the looming trees. Then he knocked off a drawing of Maggie by the fire, optimism and happiness shining from her wide eyes as she lived her dream of coming to Montana. He’d given her that, at least.

After breakfast—mercifully free of any animal visitors save for two little chipmunks that Maggie scared off with her delighted shrieks—they headed to the visitors’ center for a guided nature walk. Jason glanced in the rearview mirror at a stop sign and grimaced as he ran a hand through his messy blondish hair, which was due a wash. Ah, the many joys of camping.

It was also due a cut, and he could imagine his parents’ pinched expressions at seeing him in worn jeans with stubble on his cheeks and his hair shaggy. His mother’s golden hair had always been perfect, even if it was just in a ponytail for yoga. Even on weekends, his dad had worn button-up shirts and his Rolex.

If Jason had chosen differently all those years ago, he’d probably be sitting behind a desk at his father’s firm in a bespoke suit, calling clients and monitoring the stock exchange.

With a pang, he thought of his younger brother, Tim, who’d just graduated Waltham Prep and was going to Harvard according to his Instagram. Jason would love to talk to him and discover the man he was becoming, but that door had closed when their parents made their ultimatum.

Maybe now that Tim was going to college, he’d reach out. And maybe Tim doesn’t want anything to do with me. If he did, surely he’d have tried to contact Jason before now?

Jason gave his head a mental shake as he turned into the lot and parked. He shouldn’t hold his breath for Tim to try and contact him. They were strangers now. Maggie was his family. He’d learned long ago not to dwell.

“Dad? You coming?”

Jason jumped. Maggie had already clambered out of the back seat and now peered in through Jason’s window, hopping a little in place, a grin lighting up her face. He returned the smile and said, “Right behind you,” as he closed the windows.