Once Upon A Road Trip

by Angela N. Blount

  “I will.” Angie mustered a more reassuring smile. She closed the distance between them in a single step with the intention of hugging him, but surprised herself by kissing him instead. The action was innate and effortless. It would have taken more thought for her to stop herself than it did to sway forward and touch her lips to his.

  Vince met her partway with a gentle, sure pressure. In his reply she sensed the poignant echo of regret before he grasped her shoulders and pulled back. Holding her at half arm’s length, he averted his eyes, “We’re making this harder than it already is.”

  Angie looked down and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  Again.

  His hands fell away as she stepped around him, retreating to her car.

  Once she’d slid into the front seat, she waited for Vince to pull out of the drive and lead her back to the highway. Struggling to arrange her thoughts, she reviewed his last statement over and over. It struck her as oddly critical that he’d used the phrase “harder than it already is,” rather than “harder than it needs to be.” She pondered the significance of the subtle turn of phrase as she drove.

  If it was worth anything, then it needed to be hard.

  All too soon she noticed Vince had roll down his window and signal to ensure she wouldn’t miss her entrance ramp. She honked once in reply and waved as their course diverged. Merging onto the highway heading east, she watched in her rear view mirror as the familiar white sedan entered the westbound lane.

  A dull ache clutched at her heart. It felt wrong that they were traveling in opposite directions — as though it underscored the likelihood that their paths might never cross again.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  She had been driving around Atlanta for two hours before Angie accepted she was lost. While she’d had a number of directionally challenged moments throughout her journey, this was the first time she’d misplaced herself in the middle of a large city.

  Making matters worse, it was getting late and she’d been unable to locate an open venue where she could stop to call one of her previous hosts, Kalvin. Every gas station she passed either had inadequate lighting or at least one shady-looking man loitering close to the pay phone. She hadn’t felt so uneasy with her situation since her long night in Lancaster.

  The bright glow of a large drive-in restaurant called “The Varsity” eventually captured her attention. And it was there that Kalvin and one of his friends eventually found her.

  When Angie saw the lanky pair approaching, she nearly ran to meet them. Her anxiety must have been plain on her face, as both young men were regarding her with worried expressions.

  “You’re way off course, lady,” Kalvin said, bending to greet her with a hug.

  “Yeah, well it doesn’t help that half of the streets in this city have ‘Peachtree’ in their name.” Angie said. She raised onto her toes to hug his neck in gratitude.

  “Here, you might want to call Vincent.” Kalvin held out his cell phone to her in offering. “When you didn’t show up, we called to find out when you’d left. And...I may have said something a little accusing about him being the last one to see you alive.” He gave a sheepish smile.

  Angie laughed, if only to ease her own tension. “Aww, you made threats on my behalf?” She accepted the phone and reached up to ruffle Kalvin’s thinning hair. Jeff, the slim, tow-headed young man beside him, grinned when she elbowed him. “You guys would have made great big brothers.”

  Jeff chuckled and motioned toward his car. “We’ll get out of here when you’re done. We can still make it to game night and get you something to eat.”

  “Sure,” Angie said. As she wandered back into the entryway of the restaurant, she scrolled through Kalvin’s phone until she found Vince’s number. He picked up before the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me,” Angie said, grateful to hear his voice.

  “You’re okay?!” Vince’s tone pitched with relief.

  “Yeah. I got lost.”

  “Well, I figured that much.” It sounded as though he was attempting to cover something with humor.

  “I know, I’ve got a bad track record.” Angie sighed. “I couldn’t find a safe place to call anybody from. Kal and Jeff found me, though.”

  “Good. They can keep you out of trouble,” Vince said, voice gaining a tired quality. “I guess I should just head back home, then.”

  “What do you mean? Where are you?”

  Vince hesitated. “I’m...about half an hour from Atlanta.”

  Guilt stirred together with gratitude, thickening into a lump that lodged in her throat. “You drove all the way back from Birmingham to come looking for me?”

  “Well, yeah. You were missing.”

  “And how exactly did you think you were going to find me?” she asked, dumbfounded. The other end of the line was quiet for several seconds.

  “I don’t know,” Vince said. “I thought maybe if your car had broken down partway there, I’d see it.”

  “And if I wasn’t on the side of the highway?”

  “Then I would have taken Atlanta one street at a time.”

  “That’s crazy.” Angie couldn’t help but smile at his irrational determination. “I’m sorry I keep causing you problems. You must have left class early—”

  “Just do me one more favor,” Vince said. “Call me when you get to D.C. tomorrow. That -might- keep me from finishing off the ulcer I’ve been working on.”

  “I’ll call,” Angie vowed. “Just as soon as I get in.”

  “Thank you.”

  Angie felt an upwelling of tender emotion fill her chest. “Vincent?” She stopped herself just short of asking him to come into the city so she could see him one last time. The impulse was strangely powerful.

  Wow, that would be incredibly selfish of me.

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks—for coming after me.” She took in a slow breath. “I’m sorry I wasted your time and gas money.”

  “Don’t be,” Vince answered, voice quieting. “You’re worth it.”

  She could picture the sad smile she heard in his voice, and it pained her. “Get back home and get some sleep.”

  “I will. Good night, Angel.”

  “Good night.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  It was nearing 10 PM the following evening when Angie completed her ten hour drive and pulled up to the curb in front of Scott’s mother’s house. The three-story home was one of the smaller structures in the well lit, affluent neighborhood. Made up of modern stonework and wood siding, the house sat behind an unimposing but well-tended lawn. She’d made a point of calling Scott when she was within an hour of the city, and he was waiting for her on the broad front stoop.

  Toting her duffel bag across the yard, Angie approached with a twisting sense of anticipation. They’d spoken only once in the weeks since she’d left New York, and she hoped their mutual understanding was still intact.

  “Sorry to interrupt your smoke break,” she called out, teasing.

  “You didn’t.” Scott stood from his partial crouch, scratching absently at the well-groomed patch of scruff along his chin. “Actually…I quit.” He spread his arms at his sides, palms out.

  “Seriously?” Angie’s voice come out more astonished than pleased, and she amended it by giving him a quick hug. She took the opportunity to sniff at his collar, picking up only musky cologne mingled with sweat — void of even a trace of tobacco. Its absence seemed almost peculiar. “That’s great! I’m proud of you.” She smiled as she stepped back from him, concerned over promoting too much contact between them.

  To her surprise, it was easy to let him go. The perplexing draw she recalled having toward him seemed...muted. He was just as handsome as ever, she decided. His broad shoulders and swarthy features still held all of their usual appeal. And yet, something about her perception of him had changed.

  For his part, Scott was just as quick to release her and seek out his pockets with his hands. “Yeah, those first two we
eks were pretty rough on me—and pretty much everybody around me. But it’s been almost a month, so I guess I mastered my master.” He looked pleased with himself. “I oughta last longer through my Kendo practices now.”

  “Maybe now your Sensei won’t yell at you so much.” Angie laughed, pulling her duffel bag around to hold in front of her. “So, is your mom going to let me sleep indoors? I’m just about dead on my feet.”

  “Right.” Scott turned, crossing the inlaid stones of the porch to open the front door. “Come on in. Mom might still be up, but I dunno.”

  The entryway was sizable but not extravagant. Tasteful scenic paintings hung on the walls and flanked the grand, central wooden staircase. A darkened living room wrapped around to the left, and an office opened to the right. Scott led her straight ahead through a hallway that ran parallel to the stairway.

  “My bedroom is up there, if you need something,” Scott motioned toward the stairs. “I thought you could stay in my sister’s old room across the hall, but mom didn’t like that idea. She’s giving you the spare room in the basement.” He paused to tap a door to his left, just shy of the tiled eat-in kitchen.

  “Smart lady.” Angie chuckled, relieved at the deliberate separation. She moved to open the basement door, but Scott stopped her.

  “You can head down in a minute—let me show you around.” He took her bag and set it beside the door before leading her on a brief tour of the kitchen. Beyond the heavy oak dining table a set of white French doors opened onto an expansive deck, which jutted out over a level carpet of grass. Scott turned on the floodlights as they stepped out, illuminating a young tree poised in the middle of the back yard.

  “Oh, a Weeping Willow,” Angie noticed aloud. She walked out for a closer look, starting down the trio of steps. The tree stood less than twelve feet high, its spindly branches arched and drooped to form the silhouette of a lopsided umbrella.

  “Yeah, I remember you like those.” Scott answered from a few feet to her left, regarding her with an ambiguous smile. He looked like he was about to say something else when movement in the kitchen caught his attention. “There’s Mom.” He inclined his head toward the house and led the way back through the French doors.

  Scott’s mother hovered near the table as they entered. She wore a full-length lavender bathrobe, and her platinum-blonde hair was set with rows of curlers. The small, gaunt woman couldn’t have stood quite five and a half feet, but her posture and movements suggested an enormous force of personality. Though her eyes were broad, blue, and lovely, the deep scowl she wore was enough to stop Angie cold.

  “I thought you said she’d be here an hour ago.” The woman addressed Scott in a curt tone before planting a fist on her hip and peering at Angie as though she already found her inadequate.

  “I’m sorry,” Angie spoke up, as apologetic as she could manage on short notice. “I got slowed down a little in North Carolina.”

  “So, Angeli…this is my mom. Cindy.” Scott intervened, making exaggerated motions of introduction. “Mom, this is Angeli.”

  Cindy cut her eyes toward her son, pursing her lips in a look of irritation.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, ma’am.” Angie said. She clasped her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting under the woman’s dissecting gaze. “Scott talks about you all the time.”

  “Ma’am?” The older woman gave a dry laugh. “So you did spend some time down south.”

  Angie looked to Scott in hopes of some clue as to how seriously she should take his mother. Scott looked uncomfortable, but didn’t seem eager to speak up again. “Three weeks.” Angie nodded, unsure of what else to say. It was taking all of her concentration not to stare at the brown pencil lines arching along the woman’s forehead where eyebrows should have been.

  “Well, I’ve got work tomorrow, so the sightseeing will just have to wait until the weekend,” Cindy said, with an abrupt disregard. “I’m going to bed. You two keep the noise down, and don’t do anything stupid.” Pivoting in place like a tightly wound dancer, the woman headed back through the hallway.

  Stunned by the less-than-pleasant first meeting, Angie waited until she heard footsteps receding up the staircase before turning to Scott. “You failed to mention that your mom already hates me,” she hissed.

  “She doesn’t hate you—” Scott pinched his dark brows together in thought. “—she’s just not the happiest person in the world. I told you, what my dad did really messed her up.”

  “And so—a decade later—she’s taking it out on me?” Angie caught the stung look on Scott’s face too late to soften her sarcasm.

  “She’ll warm up,” he said, defensive. “Just give her a day or two.”

  Warm up, or thaw out?

  Angie took pause and nodded, deciding she was overreacting. She eased her voice to something more temperate. “Sorry, I’m just tired.” She moved over to the counter and picked up the telephone before turning back to him. “I’m just going to make a few calls to let people know I got here, and then I’m going to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

  “Sure,” Scott said, barely concealing agitation. “G’night.” He turned and slunk back into the hall, heading for the stairs.

  Angie picked up the house phone and muttered under her breath, glancing upward at the night sky as she wandered onto the back deck. “So, I’m off to a great start here.” She pulled a phone card out of her wallet and called her parents first, leaving a message.

  She called Vince next, fulfilling her promise. His voice was glad but subdued when he picked up, and she learned he was in the middle of his commute home from Birmingham. Angie also discovered that, despite all sound reasoning, she was just as relieved to hear him as she had been the previous night. She deliberately kept their conversation brief, not admitting to him her concern that it may have been a mistake to visit D.C. — or more specifically, to see Scott again. Giving Vince any remaining reason to worry about her would only make it that much harder to sever their connection. She couldn’t risk doing that to him.

  Angie stared at the phone for a long while after she’d hung up, fighting an unsettling heaviness. More permeating than exhaustion, the feeling reminded her of the sucking pull of wet sand. It was as though both her body and soul were weighed down by some intangible force. The cause, she knew, was the realization that she may never hear Vince’s voice again. Instead of the closure she’d been striving for, the finality of it left only a hollow sense of loss.

  Making her way down to the stairs to the unadorned guest room, Angie flopped onto the daybed she found awaiting her. “It’s for the best...isn’t it?”

  But she drowned in sleep before any semblance of an answer could come to her.

  Chapter 29

  July 28,

  For the last two days I’ve tried to catch up on sleep, or as much as Scott would let me. We’ve mostly played chess, watched movies, and hung around the house while I help him write his college entrance essay. He’s been getting bored easily and acting annoyed with me. Maybe that’s mutual. We keep bickering about stupid little things.

  Scott’s mother doesn’t like me at all. I don’t know what he told her about me, but I can’t seem to get on her good side. I’d be tempted to say she doesn’t have a good side at all, but she treats his other friends just fine when they come over to hang out.

  At least Scott’s friends here are much nicer than the ones he has in New York. I’ve especially enjoyed the company of his friend Kristy. She’s pretty talkative. We went on for hours the other day about video game plotlines and weird pets we had while growing up. I guess I’ve missed talking to another girl. Aside from Elsie, I mean. Sometimes I think Elsie doesn’t count. (I think the deepest conversation I’ve been able to have with her all month was about her recently discovered allergy to cinnamon.)

  I’m feeling ready to head back to Minnesota, but I’ve still got a few days to kill. We’re going to go see all of the major sights today, and maybe a couple of museums. I’m hoping
this might be fun and educational.

  Mileage Log: 5,603 mi

  ~Ang

  The tour began at the Jefferson Memorial. While Angie had seen the domed, marble structure in pictures, nothing had prepared her for the grandeur of experiencing the monument in person. Scott’s mother later dropped them off at the Lincoln Memorial, where they began the two-mile walk of the National Mall.

  The heat of the cloudless mid-day caught up to them by the time they’d reached the east end of the Reflecting Pool, forcing them to seek refuge in the shade of the Washington Monument. There, they argued. Angie wanted to walk through the war memorials, and Scott was determined to press on toward the Capitol Building. When passing tourists with umbrellas mentioned the temperature had surpassed one hundred degrees, Angie finally relented to Scott’s abbreviated plan.

  They marched eastward along the grassy mall, passing up a number of the art galleries and museums lining either side. The squabbling between them continued, even as they ducked into the Air and Space Museum for a reprieve from the heat. It was after three o’clock when they finally reached their intended destination.

  “Are you gonna take much longer?” Scott asked, arms crossed as he paced back and forth in the meager shade of the Ulysses S. Grant Memorial. “We still need to find the subway station.”

  Sitting beside the broad pool in front of the Capitol steps, Angie had found a measure of relief by dipping her hands into the water and blotting them against the back of her neck. “It’s a stationary location, Scott—it’s not going to hide from us.” She couldn’t recall him ever seeming so motivated. The timing of it was grating on her. “I’m sure there’ll be signs.”

  Scott growled out something unintelligible in reply, setting his jaw as he stared up at the bronze statue nearby.

  Angie pushed off from the low wall and took several steps backward, taking yet another picture. “I could have just come by myself, you know. I told you I didn’t want to be a bother.” She shot the remark in Scott’s direction before striding off to the north side of the broad marble terrace. Scott followed, looking somewhat contrite as he came alongside her.