Chapter one: Broken

There are very few things I require when I blow in to a new town: a good pizza shop (or at least access to a running stove and food shop), somewhere to get fresh fruit, and access to a garage where I can work on my pride and joy-a 1969 Ford Mustang 'Boss 429' in glossy black, named Maria. It's an added bonus if there's somewhere I can surf as well, but not a strict necessity.

Other than that, I can pretty much handle living anywhere, for short lengths of time. The exact length depends on how good the pizza is. I'm not even hung up on the accommodation facilities, so long as my other requirements are met. I've grown accustomed to sleeping rough.

I've been pretty much living out of the beautiful Maria for the last few months, ever since the 'incident'. Before that I had been living in Hawaii, or Maui to be exact, which is one of the Hawaiian Islands. I'd been living there for almost three months, working in a bar at night and teaching surf lessons to tourists during the day, when I got the phone call.

If there is one thing every person fears, it's the 3am phone call-the 'bad news' phone call. You know the one I'm talking about right. Your phone rings in the wee hours and you wake up, heart almost bursting out of your chest, knowing it's gonna be bad news. No one rings that early except, like, policemen and doctors telling you someone you love has either died or is lying in a hospital bed somewhere barely clinging to life. So of course, when I got a call at 11pm at the bar, I was not expecting bad news. I was thinking booty call, not life altering bad news call.

When I answered the phone the detective introduced himself. That's all it took for me to understand that there was something wrong. I didn't really hear much past him saying mum and Matt's names, didn't need him to say it to know they were dead. A car accident. Something as pointless as a dog on the road and my mum and stepdad were gone.

The weeks after that call run together in my mind.

I know I got a flight back to Los Angeles, organised a double funeral, packed up a home and put it on the market, heard the will readings, all those things. But I don't clearly recall any of it. The detective who first called me, Jack Collins, was a huge help, going above and beyond any possible calls of duty. He was a close friend of my step dads. He pretty much held my hand throughout the entire ordeal. He had helped me with all the funeral arrangements and packing up the house. And once it was all over and I was at a loss with what to do next, it was he who gave me the idea to just get in my car and go. He told me not to worry about where I was going, told me I'd know I was there when I felt like I had come home again. And he told me to call anytime I needed him and he'd come running. Through that horrific time in my life something amazing had happened. Jack had become like family. The only family I had left.

And so I had got in my car and started to drive. Initially, I had headed inland. Then after a month of exploring Las Vegas, Salt Lake, as far as Colorado Springs and everywhere in between, I headed back towards LA and followed the California coastline north.

I stayed in many different places. Occasionally I stayed in nice hotels or mostly decent motels. But more often than not I slept rough, in a tent or my car. I rarely had any trouble. And if I did, I left town soon after. Whenever I felt the need, I would pick up random guys, use them and move on. I tended to stick to cop bars though, just to be on the safe side.

And for some reason, it helped me feel closer to Jack. Sitting surrounded by people doing the same job as him, helping people like me. He would ring me every few weeks to make sure I was doing okay, and I sent him the odd text and postcard so he could see where I had been. They were never more than a few sentences long. But it helped to know there was someone out there who cared about me.

Time passed. As it must. Sometimes it seemed to rush by and other times it seemed to drag. The latter was always worse. I would find myself thinking of mum and Matt a lot. When that happened I would book into a motel and spend days just crying, or sleeping in an alcohol induced haze.

At a place called Newport I decided to head inland and check out Salem. Whilst there I did the whole touristy thing and checked out all the witch stuff, including the parts about the witch trials, which I found extremely interesting. I had always enjoyed history while I was at school. After that I spent some time in Portland. Next up I followed the state lines to Hermiston, for no other reason than it was a place to go and I had nothing but time. While I was there Jack called and, when he heard where I was, told me I should head for Olympia. He had a sister there he was meant to be spending the 4th of July holiday with and made me promise to catch up with him there. I had a while to get there so stopped in Seattle on the way.

Living in a car for over five months meant I didn't have a lot of room for many clothes. In Seattle I gave all my clothes away and went shopping. I got a little carried away and spent a lot on new lingerie, and even more on clothes. Not that I was trying to impress anyone. It had been a while since I'd felt sexy, let alone wanted to. It was something I could do just for myself. And it made me feel good. Something I hadn't been in ages.

I spent the holiday with Jack and his sister's family. They were all really welcoming. It was good to spend time with Jack. Considering I hadn't known him long before I'd left, I had missed him. He was like the big brother I never knew I wanted. But it had been so long since I'd been around people and I didn't feel very comfortable. He asked me if I would ever move home again. I wasn't able to answer him for a few minutes as the pain threatened to crush my heart again.

"I don't think I have a home anymore. It's like that saying 'Home is where the heart is'. Mum and Matt are gone. The house is sold. My heart isn't there. It's locked in the urns in Maria's glove box" I didn't want to talk about it.

"You're too young to think that way. But I get it. One day you'll be able to get your heart back though. Trust me on this one," he smiled. There was something in it I recognised, something that was broken but was beginning to heal.

That was all he said about it. The rest of the week we spent in Olympia we talked about travelling. He told me about places he had been, and the places he still wanted to see. I told him all the places I'd been: New Zealand, Australia, Samoa and Hawaii. He had never been to New Zealand, so I told him it should be number one on his list. He had been to a lot of the places I still wanted to go. Like Italy, Greece and Peru.

By the time he was due to go home I had grown comfortable being with people and I knew it would be hard to get back into Maria by myself. The others seem to sense how I felt but Jack had to get back to work and I didn't want to hang around Olympia without him. So after saying my goodbyes, and Gina (his sister) packing my car with baking, I left.

I even managed to make it to Hoquiam before I had to lock myself in a motel room and cry myself into oblivion.