It was good that the money was there. They had enough to get the van repaired and change. Question was, what were they gonna do now?

First was the problem of the van itself. It was a ruin. Weeks of trying to fix it had shown that clearly even to someone as lost with engines as Josh was. Sasha had sold them crap, it was time to recognize it. A new car would do the job just as well if not better, possibly for a better price than the repairs. Julien, the mechanic, could probably help them figure that out.

Then there was the problem of traveling together again. They were better now than a few weeks ago, but both of them was honestly uncomfortable at the idea of falling back into the same patterns, of exhausting each other again. Was it such a good idea to continue together if they were so different in their moods and expectations?

Soon they had to talk about it. IT was obvious for both of them, yet the talk was awkward. How do you tell people you want to go on your own separate ways without hurting their feelings? They danced around the topic and when they finally settled and faced the truth, it was relieving and disappointing at the same time. It seemed at the moment that their friendship would only go that far.

Josh was a bit worried about letting Andy go: was he strong enough now to stay sober? And if he fell down again, who would be there to help him up? On Andy’s side of things, while he was grateful to Josh for pulling him up, he needed more space than he could get when they were together. Coming back from such a crisis, he felt the need to go and find himself, his center, his core. What was he made of, if not of a grey sociopathic void, and how could he ever atone? That journey felt personal enough that he wanted to go alone. He was the one who ultimately offered the deal.

It was better that way for Josh too, no matter how much he felt like taking care of Andy. Ms. Giraud was certainly peppy, but on most days her age showed. She needed help and Josh would be hard to replace. He wanted to stick around a little longer.

Around the same time, Mr. Lefèvre went back on the deal they had: while he had been happy to help, he wanted official tenants more than a quick bill on the side. Settling there was not in their plans, nor would they have been able to provide the necessary paperwork while trying to remain anonymous.

They found a solution in their own way. Andy bought a small white French car which looked boxy enough to have been crafted in the nineties. That was a little over half of the money they had made until now, the rest would be travel expenses for Andy. Josh had been pretty liberal again with the money: he knew he still had a job. He moved in with Ms. Giraud, who had a big house and way too many rooms. It would make his job easier and he didn’t have a rent to pay anymore. Soon, Andy was ready to leave. He had become a lot healthier now, even if he wasn’t cured really. He would need a strong will to keep his head straight and his liver happy. Nevertheless, the road would bring him a breath of fresh air.

He put a picnic bag in the trunk of the car and closed it vigorously. All around them the leaves had turned red, framing Ms. Giraud’s house like a quiet fire. A wet wind was blowing through the trees. They sang. A lukewarm sun shone through and warmed the earth without drying it. It was a beautiful October day.

“So,” said Josh, “do you know where you’re heading?”

Andy smiled. “I was thinking Spain,” he said. “You had a pretty good idea to begin with. If you ever get tired of being a nurse…”

“Sure,” said Josh, answering the vague invitation with vague enthusiasm. They had a way to stay in touch now. Along with the car, which he had fine-tuned almost for free, Julien had found them two old candy bar phones with pre-paid cards. Now that was called being resourceful.

“Josh,” said Andy, extending his hand for a handshake, “I’m pretty sure we aren’t done with our adventures.”

“They haven’t started yet,” said Josh, grinning. “Good luck on the road.”

“Same to you,” said Andy. He entered the car, buckled up and started the engine. While he was maneuvering onto the road, he held his hand in a goodbye gesture. Then he was gone.

Over the week that came after, Josh didn’t have time to feel torn over his partner’s departure. Ms. Giraud had an early flu that had her stuck in bed. Josh found himself preparing her meals and helping her up when she needed the bathroom. By the time she got better, he had to help Léa who was in a pinch figuring out her Halloween costume.

“I want to be a ghost unicorn,” she explained in French. Now Josh mostly got the language, at least the simple sentences, but for that one he had to request Ms. Giraud’s help.

“A ghost unicorn, huh,” he said, puzzled. “What does it look like?”

She drew it for him: it was pink and sparkly, with a veil, hooves, and a horn. From a certain perspective it could be said to be shaped like a rabbit, but he didn’t say that to her. He just said: “D’accord, we’ll do a ghost unicorn.”

They got an old bed sheet out. It was pink like it should have been, but it had a floral print on it. That didn’t seem to bother Lea. They cut out holes for the eyes and prepared a cardboard horn. That night, she went from door to door asking for candy, proud as a queen.

Josh accompanied Ms. Giraud to the cemetery the next day. She always visited her old friends on All Saints Day. Friendship, she said, was something that lasted a lot longer than flesh.

At his own pace, stopping every time he saw a landscape worthy of a stroll, Andy was driving south.