1. Welcome to Maine

Todd grimaced.

He had hated bridges for as long as he could remember—and the steel and concrete monstrosity looming before him now disappeared ominously into the foreboding fog ahead. Todd shivered as it drew nearer. The bridge arced above a deep river, spanning the short distance between New Hampshire and Maine. It wasn't one he'd been intending to cross so soon, and he'd successfully avoided doing so until his most recent misfortunes had forced him into it.

Todd's latest unpaid internship ended abruptly last week with an offer to be a dog nanny instead of a position in his intended career as an investigative journalist. He'd not-so-politely declined the insulting offer. His credit cards had long ago reached their meager limit, and a dog nanny's wages weren't going to go very far in resolving his financial problems. Worse still, his only affordable accommodation option was to either remain in Boston, living with his ex, Danver, or move in with his father. He'd chosen the latter evil.

For the third time that day, Todd carefully brushed the pile of unsettling thoughts from his mind, focusing instead on the upcoming crossing. The bridge was narrow, perilously high above the water, and cars whizzed by on either side of him. Todd's nerves flared as the roadway transitioned from the surety of concrete to the unnerving whine of metal grate, causing his entire car to vibrate unsettlingly.

Todd caught himself in the dingy rearview mirror and wasn't surprised to see that his ringlets of reddish-bronze hair were a total and utter mess. He stifled a grin at how disheveled he looked. At this point, the mop nearly covered his eyes. He brushed it aside with a clammy hand, the car behind him honking impatiently as he urged his old Volvo onward. His unruly hair brought an unwanted memory into focus…

Todd was sitting in a wooden chair while Danver clumsily clipped away at his curls. Snow had begun to fall outside, glimmering as it caught the light spilling out into the dark January night. A Christmas tree, far past its due date, sat dead in one corner of the apartment they had shared together on Newbury Street. It still cast multicolored sparkles across the walls, dancing across their bare torsos. They were laughing together easily in blithe unison about how badly that haircut was coming out…

Todd couldn't help but recollect that they'd fucked that entire afternoon. They hadn't even waited to vacuum up Todd's hair first. And by the end of things, his red strands were stuck sweatily across the both of them. Their fornicating had scattered the debris to the far corners of the apartment. Todd had stumbled across them for months. He couldn't have known back then that that would be the last haircut Danver ever gave him. He tousled his hair nervously now, flicking his mirror back toward the traffic behind him, actively avoiding the reflections his own visage beckoned.

If only Mom were here,Todd thought glumly, missing her reassurance more every year since she'd vanished…

But Todd didn't want to think about that, either.

He sighed, eager to be off the bridge and back on solid ground, praying he might eventually outrun his own thoughts.He knew better than to expect his dad actually to be in Maine when he arrived. The man had proven equally good at running away from his duties as a father.Todd struggled to form a mental picture of his dad that wasn't steeped in shadows and fog. His father had broken many promises and reassurances over his lifetime, resulting in numerous canceled dinners and precisely zero apologies to date.

Todd had neared the midpoint of the river now and was white-knuckling the steering wheel in the bumper-to-bumper traffic. His Volvo had sputtered to almost twenty below the speed limit, rattling as it struggled to keep going. There was a lot of honking. Too much honking. Todd panicked—and even with the pedal now fully jammed against the floor, he couldn't get the old machine moving any faster than it wanted to. There was a reason the car had always been lovingly referred to as "Snail." He desperately urged her onward, guiltily knowing all the while that she was doing her best.

Right then, a white, Massachusetts-plated Mercedes G-Wagon swerved out from behind Todd—lights flashing, horn blaring. It aggressively brake-checked him, causing him to nearly lose control of his car. Todd screamed, lurching within inches of the other vehicle's bumper before he was thankfully able to regain control. A fresh chorus of chiding honks erupted from all around him. His heart was pounding, his hands shaking, as a deluge of road filth sprayed in through his open window. The Mercedes roared off, but not before the driver leaned out and flipped him off, grinning at him wildly.

There was something uncannily familiar about the man, and Todd briefly had the odd notion that he'd seen him before, but he couldn't quite place the memory or the face. The recollection was ancient and buried, and he was left with little more than a deepening unease as he watched the Mercedes speed off into the fog.

"Flllluck!" Todd spluttered through his tightly pursed mouth. Slime and grime were everywhere—on his lips, in his hair, and splattered across the entire back half of the car. It was a mess. He was a mess—inside and out. Todd was gritting his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, but he had somehow managed to hold the lane. He ran a hand through his crusty hair, feeling the dirt and road sand smear into his scalp.

Disgusting, he thought bitterly.

He wiped the mess onto his pant leg, inadvertently spreading the filth and adding a new stain to his growing collection. Off to Todd's right, just visible at the periphery of the fog, a road sign cheerily saluted him in whimsical font:

"Welcome to Maine, Vacationland."

He let out a single, sharp laugh.

At least he had finally gotten across that fucking bridge.