Juniper Vision

The sun was just beginning to set on their third day of the road trip, and Carn had an arm out the window, rolling to the waves of the breeze. From her rearview mirror, Juniper snuck a look at the boy, who was grinning as usual, despite not being able to see the beautiful pink streaks shooting up from the horizon. They’d made it to the rolling hills of the Grand Canyon. Juniper turned down the classical music- their little inside joke- and pulled into a visitor’s lot in the middle of the National Park. She unbuckled and quickly grabbed Carn’s hand, dragging him out of the van and guiding him to various interesting rock formations in walking distance. She’d place his hands on one side of the oddly shaped boulders, and tell him to make his way around, feeling every nook and crevice. After an hour feeling it out, they hopped back into the van down an underdeveloped side road that Juniper’s parents had taken her when she’d visited as child. She pulled off at a viewpoint that seemed surrounded by canyon on either side. Guiding Carn to the middle of the U-shaped location, she whispered instructions into his ear and then ran a few hundred feet away to admire the scene. He then let out a wolf-like howl, and clapped as the echo spoke back. Carn tilted his head back, and for a moment, Juniper swore he could see the vastness of the Canyon, the natural beauty of an imperfect crack in the Earth.

As he felt and heard his way to understanding the magnificence of the location, Juniper pulled out her small black notebook and began jotting down every descriptive aspect of the moment she could conjure. She felt quite poetic, and knew her bedtime story for Carn would be quite memorable that day.

It seemed like just yesterday that Juniper had met Carn, on that splintered Seattle bench, though it had been over a month at this point. Classical music was playing from the café on the corner, and the air felt instantly warmer between them as the sun lowered over the city.

It was a few days before graduation, and Juniper had wandered into her favorite craft store in town. She was usually drawn to the crystals and glass blown beads they had for sale, and could spend hours rolling them around in her hands, admiring their natural beauty. That day though, it felt as though she was not in control of her destination.

When her body old her to yield, she did as told, and stopped to consciously take note of the aisle she’d ended up in; notebooks and stationery. Odd, considering Juniper was naturally drawn to everything in the store except the writing material. She’d never been very confident in her literary skills and found it difficult to encompass a vision through words alone.

All around her, paper and pens seemed to fit every nook. The only eye-catching section was that dedicated to vibrant cardstock in seemingly every pattern. Juniper had always been a hands-on learner, so naturally she began feeling the ridges and indents on each piece. Trailing up from the bottom she allowed her fingertips the time to process each pattern.

She momentarily stopped moving her finger and fixated her eyes on the cardstock exactly level with her eyes. The design was simple, with blue-hued juniper branches falling from the unknown. She plucked the piece of cardstock from the shelf and admired it for a minute, appreciating the texture and peaks that had been so delicately pressed, as if it was art for a blind man. Juniper loved it so much, she’d already started mentally counting the coins she’d need to fish out of her school bag to take it home. Were there more? She wanted them all… to cover her tracks with juniper art and keep some for later. Oddly, it seemed to be the only piece, and in its place was a single black notebook. It appeared delicate yet sturdy, and full of a purpose that had yet to be determined. For someone who hated writing, Juniper felt it was out of character to want the notebook at all, and yet, her right hand reached out and seized it before her left brain could disagree.

At the checkout counter, the saleswoman asked Jupiter what her intentions were with her new journal. “I’m not sure yet” Juniper replied, still baffled that she was purchasing it at all.

After hearing her response, the woman picked the notebook up, flipped it over, and slowly began picking at the price tag.

“This thing sure is hard to peel, it’s as if they don’t want you ripping it off!” She chuckled, as Juniper let out a small sigh of air, confused at the whole situation. Good thing the store was empty at three in the afternoon.

The saleswoman finally gripped the price tag with her nails and peeled it from the cover, placing the sticker on her forearm, as if for safekeeping.

“This one’s on me” she said, handing the notebook and cardstock to a surprised Juniper.

“Go write one crazy story”.

Her bottom ached from the wooden bench she’d shaped to for so many hours. It was nearing dark so she quickly gathered up her things, placing the notebook she’d bought earlier that day in the pocket of her worn denim jacket, when she noticed someone new approaching up ahead. With a long silver stick in one hand and a sandwich in the other, the individual traced each steps perimeter before continuing onward, with a smile on their face. They were breathing pretty heavily and seemed to be walking closer to the street than to the bench. Peering side to side, they stopped and seemed to look directly into Juniper’s eyes for but a second, and then away.

“Is there a seat somewhere?” he asked rather loudly.

“Over here” Juniper mustered back, still taking in the situation. The boy pointed the stick somewhat towards Juniper- which she found odd- while replying with a “yes”. His wandering eyes took the response as an invitation. He dragged his stick across the pavement, and turned towards Junipers voice. It took him about a minute to reach the bench, but once he’d made it, his sigh of relief was universal and Juniper felt a sense of calm settle around them.

“Took you long enough”, she joked to the strange boy.

He burst out laughing as sandwich crumbs fell from his lips.

“I’m blind” he responded amusingly. Juniper gasped.

“I’m so sorry” she quickly replied. “Duh, what was I thinking?”.

They laughed, and Juniper felt slightly more comfortable.

“I was just leaving” she told the boy, so as to let him know he’d have the bench to himself.

“Please stay” he begged, in a joking but endearing manner, as though he assumed Juniper was as interesting of an individual as he was. She still didn’t think so.

Juniper agreed to stay. She might be late for dinner, but her parents would get over it.

They talked for hours on the bench, repositioning and flexing their legs as the air grew colder and the wind picked up. His name was Carn, and he’d been partially blind at birth— fully blind by age ten. Juniper bantered back and forth while trying to get a good luck at his face. At first, she didn’t want to make eye contact, but she quickly realized the irrationality of her anxiety, and peered at him straight on. His eyes were a light green with a blue hue, that seemed so comforting and familiar, and yet she couldn’t peg the origin of her feelings. His pupils seemed to judder from side to side, and focus on nothing yet everything at once. His hair was brown and overgrown, falling to his shoulders, messily pulled back behind his ears. Juniper couldn’t stop staring now, though under any other circumstances it’d be considered rude. It had been two hours or so and a footlong-sandwich later that she realized she would be in trouble upon arriving home. She snapped out of her daze and interrupted Carn mid-breath, politely but hurriedly making her exit. As she stood up and swung her schoolbag on, he spoke as if to the wind—

“Have you ever wanted to ditch the pressure of growing up and just travel anywhere far away from here”?

Juniper didn’t take the question to heart after their long comedic conversation, so she quickly shot back

“All the time”.

Carn grinned and turn towards her voice once again.

“Well then what are we waiting for”?

Logistically, it seemed wild, but Juniper probably wasn’t going to have much luck if she sat on that bench all summer. She exchanged numbers with Carn, and they parted ways, but she stayed up all night researching routes and expenses and beat-up vans for sale. She texted Carn as soon as she got home, saying ‘screw it’ to gender norms and the anxiety that came with waiting:

How would we afford this?

I’ve been saving.

How much?

Enough.

What’s ‘enough’?

Meet me at the bench tomorrow, same time.

Juniper and Carn shared this overwhelming desire to escape the situations they’d been placed in. They planned their trip for three weeks, meeting at the bench, and discussing logistics. Carn had a loving mother who’d always assisted him, but taught him how to be sufficient on his own. When she’d first heard of his road trip visions, she told him to wait until the right individual came along… one he could trust. He didn’t think that’d be an issue at all.

Of course, Juniper would have to drive. She was used to walking around and didn’t get out of town much, but she’d driven her Honda civic around late at night to get away from the noise of the city, and was proficient enough. Carn’s grandparents had an old van that he’d expressed his interest in before, and they lent it to him for the foreseeable future- no pun intended- with the understanding that he wouldn’t be the one behind the wheel.

The only payment Juniper expected was company, and some gas. It was her impression that they were both investing time and money of their own for a crazy experience into the unknown of reality. On the day of departure, Carn found his way onto the side of a packed van, and turned towards the sound of Junipers shallow breaths. She was nervous.

“I forgot to give you this”, Carn mentioned, reaching into his flannel pocket and pulling out a surprisingly huge wad of cash.

Juniper had no clue how to respond, and burst out laughing. “What?” she cracked up, taking his statement as an attempt to restabilize her heart rate.

“You can’t be serious” she said after a few moments, and once she’d caught her breath.

“I told you I’d been saving. I’m your passenger. You’re my driver. For gas, and some extra.”

Juniper felt a wave of nausea coming on and gulped before reaching out to meet his outstretched hand. He must’ve felt her come closer, as he suddenly flung his arm in the air, placing the money out of reach.

“On one condition…” he mocked.

She wavered before responding. “Condition”?

He lowered his arm and reached with the opposite hand until he found hers, which he placed atop the money.

“Twenty-Thousand Dollars. Don’t ask. I just want to see what you see. Just find a way to unblind me. Please.”

This got Juniper thinking. Before they left, she opened the van and dug through their bags until she’d found her denim coat, which she slipped on before pulling the notebook she’d bought that first day, from the pocket, and opening it while leaning on the side of the van. In black ink she wrote, in all CAPS:

PURPOSE: TO HELP CARN SEE AGAIN