Once Upon A Road Trip

by Angela N. Blount

  “It doesn’t though,” Kalvin deduced. He leaned back in his chair, studying her. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  She smiled faintly at his certainty. “Yeah, you are.”

  “So, I have a question for you—” He eased his sunglasses off to set on the table before him. His poignant blue eyes bore into her with unwavering scrutiny. “Why bother?”

  She considered him for a long moment, deciding she didn’t detect any signs of hostility or entrapment. “Do you want the long or the short version?” she asked. Not that either one would be adequate. When Kalvin gave a shrug, she took a slow sip of her drink to clear her throat as well as her mind. “Cliff notes? I’ve seen and been through a lot of things that got me to this perspective. Some stuff, you probably wouldn’t believe. There’s a lot I still don’t understand, but I’ve gotten enough answers to keep me going.” She spoke quietly, monitoring his reaction. “I guess the main thing is, I know God saved me—in more ways than one. I know He cares enough to have some sort of plan for me, and I want to know what it is.” She smirked then. “It’s not like things tend to go the way I plan them, anyway.”

  Kalvin made a contemplative sound, his thick brows drawing together. “Your ears aren’t pierced.” He used a wary tone in making the observation.

  Perplexed by the seeming randomness of his statement, Angie reached up and touched one of her bare earlobes. “No. Not yet, anyway. I have metal sensitivities, and I’m a wuss about putting intentional holes in myself,” she said, hoping his rabbit trail was going somewhere.

  “No tattoos?”

  “No, but I’ve had two in mind for a while. I figure if I still want them a couple of years from now, then I won’t regret it when I do get them.” As she spoke, a thought occurred to her. “Are you trying to figure out if I belong to a fanatical cult or something?”

  The hint of a smile graced Kalvin’s face. “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Angie snickered to herself. “No, I’m just really boring. Sorry to disappoint.”

  “At least you earned your belief in something,” Kalvin said. “Most people around here just say they believe whatever their family believes. They don’t bother thinking for themselves,” he grumbled on. “And the less they know, the louder they believe it.”

  “I don’t think that’s just the people around here.” She smiled in genuine sympathy.

  Kalvin’s expression grew confiding and he leaned forward. “I always thought God existed—I just don’t understand Him. The first time my blood sugar got too high and landed me in the emergency room, I was hoping I’d go into a coma and not wake up. I was so sick of everything…I kept asking God to get me out of here.” He shook his head, a weightiness in his voice. “But that didn’t happen—”

  “I’m glad it didn’t,” Angie interjected, frowning. “You’ve got a lot of living left to do, Kal.” While she’d grown accustom to challenging his more fatalistic perspective, his latest admission troubled her. If he weren’t about to start a whole new life, well removed from the stifling confines of his hometown, she would have been downright worried.

  “Yeah, I guess nobody would have been left to take care of my mom.” He conceded at last, leaning back in his chair.

  The stubbornness she detected in him was enough to ease her immediate concern. Still, she decided to check in on him more regularly once she’d moved on. “You’re a lot more valuable than you let yourself think.”

  “If you say so,” Kalvin said, poking at another half-sandwich.

  She gave him a stern glowering. “Kal.”

  “Alright, alright—”

  Angie let a pause drag out between them as she considered her words. “Are you angry at God about being diabetic?”

  “Maybe sometimes.” He shrugged. “But then I feel bad, because I know there’s always somebody that’s got it worse than me. I’m not asking life to be fair—I know it’s too screwed up for that. I just want to know why He lets people hurt each other.”

  “You mean...like your dad?”

  Kalvin nodded. “Everybody, I guess. Why let all this crap go on when he could just -make- us all love each other instead of telling us to?”

  “You know how they say freedom isn’t free?”

  “Freedom is overrated.” He made a dismissive motion.

  Angie considered arguing, but after some thought, decided to pose another question. “Do you think you’d love somebody more if you -had- to, or if you were free to choose them?”

  He met her gaze for a long moment before shaking his head. “I don’t know.”

  “I don’t either.” She gave a faint smile. “But I think it might mean more when love is a decision—not just some reaction you get no say in.”

  And maybe one day I’ll know for sure.

  “I suppose.” Kalvin’s tone remaining pensive-yet-skeptical. He drained the last of his frappe, then paused as a thought seemed to occur to him. “Thanks—for not beating me over the head with the God stuff.”

  “Thanks for asking about it.” Angie bobbed her head. Whatever his reasons, she was grateful he’d put his curiosity into words. It wasn’t often she was given the opportunity to explain herself. “It would have been easier for you to just assume whatever you wanted about me.”

  “Well, you know me. I never manage to do things the easy way,” Kalvin said, dryness returning to his voice. “I hope you’re right though—about God caring. Maybe He’ll pay attention to something I ask for once and keep you out of trouble.”

  “If you’re trying to say that you’ll be praying for me, thanks. I appreciate it.” Angie chuckled. “I’m pretty sure I need it.”

  July 7,

  I’ve been on the road for almost a month now. It seems so much longer than that. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve seen and experienced so much in that time, or because I’m starting to miss home. Maybe it’s a little of both.

  Kalvin and his mother have been incredibly kind to me. I’ve never once felt like a stranger. I knew before coming here that Kal was carrying a lot of pain from his past, but in the last week I’ve realized that he and his mother are both very wounded people. They have a good, strong relationship at least. Which makes sense. They’re all each other has. I wish I could have done more to help them. I see now why Kal has such a toy obsession...that’s how he copes. Despite that though, I really think he needs to have a garage sale. There’s so much he could stand to get rid of...literally and figuratively.

  Scott hasn’t called or emailed me since I left. Part of me is relieved that he’s done what I asked and let me go. But then, there’s the stupid part of me that thinks it shouldn’t have been so easy for him. By now, he must have come to his senses and realized the difference between love and infatuation. I know I should just be grateful instead of letting it gnaw on my self-esteem.

  I finally got a hold of mom on the phone tonight and we had a good, long talk. It eased a lot of my anxiety just to explain things out loud. I told her about everything... giving up on Don, the crush I had on Zak, and all of the confusing feelings I’ve had for Scott. By the end of it, I must have sounded neurotic. But hey, I guess I probably am sometimes. Of course, she told me I’m not crazy. (She’s my mom, what else is she going to say?) More importantly, she reassured me I shouldn’t settle for something that doesn’t feel right. She thinks I’ve been putting too much pressure on myself to decide what I want in a relationship, on top of trying to pick a career. I know I don’t have to have everything figured out with my life and my future. It would just be a lot more helpful if I did, that’s all.

  After I got off the phone with Mom, I went for a walk and had a little monologue with God. I let Him know that He’ll have to make it glaringly obvious when I do come across the right guy one day, because I’m done agonizing over it. I don’t want to worry about confusion, hurt feelings, or making a bad choice. I want to find something real, or not at all.

  Status: I think I’m finally over the Mono now. I just have to be careful not to overdo it so I don
’t relapse.

  Tomorrow I’ll help Kal with his move to Atlanta. I’ll be killing a few days there before moving on to Florida.

  ~Ang

  Chapter 19

  It was late on a Sunday afternoon when Angie set out on her ten hour drive south through Georgia and into Florida. Along the way she was treated to the eerie beauty of the Spanish moss that hung from many of the trees, stirred into gentle motions by the humid breeze. The Florida Turnpike proved to be a long and lonely stretch of road, taking her through a more level landscape interspersed with orange groves and wooded marshland.

  Her next host, Antonio, lived in the coastal town of Boynton Beach — an hour north of Miami. It was 1am by the time her directions led her into a quiet little neighborhood, and she was invited into a weathered, single-level home.

  “Sorry it’s so late,” Angie whispered, clasping the young man’s hand in greeting.

  “Don’t worry about it. My grandparents have been asleep since like eight o’clock.” Antonio smirked, giving his dark eyes a lackadaisical roll. Standing a half a head shorter than her, the sixteen-year-old was chunky in build, with a preference for oversized t-shirts that failed to conceal his roundness. His dark hair was buzzed short and even, calling attention to his plain features and café-au-lait skin. “Abuelo set that up for you.” He pointed to an air mattress taking up a good portion of the nearby living room.

  “Thanks.” Angie shuffled over to the pallet and sloughed her duffel bag off her shoulder, relieved by the promise of sleep. “Sorry to keep you up waiting on me.”

  “You didn’t.” Antonio shrugged. “I’m usually online until three. That way I catch less flak from my grandma. She thinks I should get a job or something.”

  Angie glanced around the sparsely decorated innards of the dwelling. The furniture appeared many decades old and well worn. The carpet was a dull shade of green, and likely surpassed the furniture in age. Even the smell of the place told her it was old; the lingering hints of musty peppermint reminding her of a foot lotion used by her own grandfather. “Got anything planned while I’m here?” She turned her waning attentions back to her friend.

  “I figured you could drive me and my sister up to Orlando one of these days and we could hit a theme park.” Antonio shifted his weight side to side as he spoke. “Other than that, you can hang out and do whatever you want. The beach is just a quarter mile down the road.”

  “You go there a lot?” she asked, sinking down to test the firmness of her sleeping accommodations.

  “Naw.” He shook his head. “Me and the sun don’t get along so great. All I need is my computer and I’m happy.”

  It wouldn’t take Angie long to realize just how much he meant this.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Angie spent most of the next two days to herself either on the beach or in the back yard of her host’s home, sitting in the shade of a mango tree. Antonio’s grandfather was a hardworking man of few words, who spent all of his daylight hours manning a carpentry shop. He seemed indifferent to Angie’s presence.

  Antonio’s grandmother, on the other hand, was a shriveled, moody woman who hobbled about the house seeming paranoid that her grandson’s guest was eating all of their food. Angie avoided the old woman as much as possible. She ate all of her meals from what she had stored in her car, unless invited to do otherwise.

  Antonio rarely left his computer, and when he did, he carried along a hand-held gaming device to keep himself occupied at all times. Though Angie knew she had no business complaining, the degree of his addiction struck her as absurd.

  His fifteen-year-old sister, Josephine, showed little interest in conversation on the rare occasions she wasn’t out with her friends. Angie hoped her sense of isolation would be lifted by the time their trek to Orlando arrived, but acting as their driver and theme park chaperone didn’t seem to forge any further connection to the disinterested siblings. By Thursday, Angie had given up on engaging them at all. She had even called Elsie to vent her frustration, but her best friend’s usual avoidance of depth only left her feeling that much more alone by the time she’d hung up.

  Angie stood barefooted along the damp sands of Boynton Beach, staring out over the ever-shifting expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. It was late in the day, and only a few scattered souls remained to enjoy the coastline. That suited her just fine. She preferred the honest seclusion to the illusion of companionship. A sense of morose descended over her. It accumulated with unnoticed subtlety, like falling ash.

  She absently pulled out her wallet and withdrew the picture of Don from the window pocket, sparing it one last glance. This seemed as good a place as any to lay something to rest. She edged up to the lapping reach of the water and bent, setting the picture down just as a cool surge reached her toes.

  “Goodbye,” Angie murmured. The water ebbed back, carrying the small picture along until it was unceremoniously sucked beneath the next wave. She took a few steps back and watched the last of the color drain from the sky, turning the surf to liquid smoke and sapphire.

  As dusk fell, so did her spirits.

  “I want to go home,” she whispered, gaze flickering upward. A thin blanketing of clouds hid the stars from her. It was six weeks into her two-month journey, and she was finally homesick. On top of that, she felt like a failure. “I made it to the other side of the country, and I still don’t think I have any better idea of who I am, what I want to do with my life, or who I’d want to share this mess with,” she said, unsure if she was talking to God or just complaining.

  A gentle breeze sifted through her hair, carrying the briny scent of sea water. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Florida was beautiful, she had to admit. But just as it had at Niagara Falls, the wild natural beauty only seemed to underscore her solitude.

  Irritated with her own nagging insecurity, Angie came to a decision. She would cut her trip short and start out for home in the morning. This meant skipping her stop in Alabama, but she couldn’t think of any major landmarks she would be missing out on there. And though she was curious about her final host, tiredness had begun to outweigh all other considerations. Her eyes snapped open and she turned, starting back for Antonio’s house before she lost her nerve.

  Not that it actually takes nerve to go running back home...

  “Hello?” Vincent answered his phone in a friendly, quizzical voice.

  Angie was surprised he’d picked up to a strange area code. She had been prepared to leave him a message, but found the promise of a live conversation to be oddly preferable. “Hey Vince, it’s Angeli,” she said, apologetic. “Am I interrupting your night?”

  “Hey! No, I just stepped out of class.” Vince’s tone warmed with recognition. Just as with all of their previous phone conversations, Angie was struck by how amiable he sounded. If she didn’t know better, she would never guess he had a flair for coming up with most of the villainous mastermind characters that kept their story-writing community on their toes.

  “Oh, sorry. I forgot you have night classes.”

  “Don’t worry about it. What’s up?” he urged. “Still think you’ll make it here by five tomorrow?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she began. A sense of guilt caused her to falter. “I’m sorry to do this on such short notice, but I’m thinking I might pass on Alabama altogether and just start heading back to Minnesota.”

  “Are you okay? What happened?” Vince asked, voice shifting to wary concern. “Is Antonio treating you alright?”

  “He’s not treating me…badly.”

  “But—?”

  She frowned to herself. “I think I’m an inconvenience to him, that’s all. He’s pretty much ignored me the whole time.”

  “Ignored you?” Vince sounded incredulous.

  “I think he likes his friends better when they’re not face-to-face,” she explained, attempting to verbally shrug off the topic. “I’m tired. I think it’s probably best if I just call off the rest of the trip.”

 
“Hey, I’m sorry Antonio doesn’t have as much sense as I thought he did,” Vince interjected. “I don’t think you should give up on your trip, though. Weren’t you going to get a tour of D.C.?”

  “Yeah, that was the new plan. But I’m changing it...again.”

  “So, I’m the only one who doesn’t get to meet you.” He didn’t disguise the disappointment in his voice.

  “It’s nothing personal, Vince—”

  He seemed to seize on her growing hesitation. “Look, I promise I won’t ignore you.” An edge of humor crept into his tone. “Or smother you with too much attention. I can totally walk that line and not weird you out.”

  Angie found herself laughing for the first time in days. Vince had always possessed a certain humorous charm over the phone, and it was swaying her. “I’m really not that needy.”

  “Come on, you’ve only got a week or two left, right?” he persisted. “I already made sure it was okay for you to shadow me at my job and everything.”

  Angie felt her most recent determination evaporate. He was right, she only needed to keep herself together for a little longer. And aside from that, she hated the idea of inconveniencing him when he’d already gone to some trouble on her behalf. “Okay. I’ll still be there tomorrow,” she said, giving herself some leeway by adding, “I just might leave a day or two sooner.”

  “Hey, whatever you need.” Vince sounded pleased. “Just be careful. I’m a long haul from where you’re at.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Angie smiled to herself, realizing she was glad to have been talked out of a rash decision. “I can let you get back to your class.”

  “If you’re sure.” His tone gave no indication that he was in a hurry. “Call me anytime—even if you just need to talk. I’ll keep my phone on me.”

  “Thanks, Vince. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  July 18,

  There’s No Place Like Home?