She looked at the front porch. “Denny, you know Paulie’s messing with you. And don’t call your brother a butt-head. Don’t make me stop this car before I even start it!” She turned to Mart. “Sorry about that. I’m hoping I don’t rip out all my hair before I get to Spokane. You were saying?”
“Uh, I wanted to ask if you had everything you needed for his race chair.”
“I think so. I have everything you gave me, and your air pump.”
“Good.” He handed her the paperwork.
“Thank you.” She loved his eyes. “Mart, I appreciate everything you’ve done. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.”
“It’s no problem. I enjoy spending time with you.”
The boys and her mom came out to say good-bye to him before he left. As he drove off, Sharon leaned in to Kelly. “He’s cute.”
“Stop it, Mom.”
“Just saying.”
Kelly glared at her mother. It was bad enough she’d spent years trying to get Kelly to divorce David, constantly sniping and snarking at her about him. She sure didn’t want to hear her mother’s “helpful” matchmaking suggestions. “Boys, get inside, go take your baths.” They left, and Kelly dropped her voice. “Don’t you dare start with me, Mom.”
Her mom gave her an innocent ‘who me?’ smile. “What?”
“That.”
“What?”
Kelly shook her head. “You know what. Don’t start with me.”
Chapter Eleven
The boys were wide awake at five. Kelly’s mom cooked breakfast while Kelly went through their luggage one last time before loading the trailer. With the dishes done and one final walk through the house to check locks and windows and lights, Kelly looked at Sharon.
“Ready?”
“I don’t know if I’m ready, but let’s go.”
Denny nearly flapped out of his chair while he waited for Kelly to open the car doors.
“Let’s go, Mom, it’s almost seven,” he bounced.
“Calm down. We’re going.”
Kelly slid behind the wheel and took a deep breath. I can do this…
She looked at her mom. “Rule one—my car, my radio.”
Her mother nodded. Fortunately, that was one of the few things her mom wouldn’t argue about.
Kelly looked between the seats. “Rule two—no piggies. You clean up after yourselves back there, right?”
The boys’ heads bobbed up and down.
“Rule three—we have fun. Right?”
“Right,” they all echoed.
Kelly took a deep breath. She shifted into reverse and slowly backed down the driveway.
They were almost to I-75 when Sharon pointed to the lanyard hung over the gearshift. “What’s that?”
“Extra keys. I put on a locking gas cap, and that’s the extra key. So we both have a car key, a gas key, and a spare remote.”
“No, that.” She pointed at the little canister hanging from the lanyard.
“Pepper spray.”
“You think we’ll need it?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
“As long as I don’t spray myself with it.”
“I have a bigger can, too.”
“Why?”
Kelly shrugged. “It was cheap. I figured we’d have it for Yellowstone, in case of bears.” She was joking, but her mother’s eyes widened.
“I told you I read about bear attacks. You think we’ll need it?”
Kelly laughed, then realized her mother was seriously freaked out. “No, Mom, I was joking. It was on sale and I thought it’d be a good idea to have it.”
How did the Serenity Prayer go? Maybe she should have had it tattooed on her hand. Kelly had a feeling she’d need it.
The familiar mix of Florida prairie, dotted with palmettos, cabbage palms, and scrub oaks, slowly evolved as they drove north toward Tampa. The land slowly transformed from black dirt to orange clay, tall slash pines and thick stands of live oaks taking over the interstate medians as they pushed through Brooksville. It was almost like another state as the land gave way again to rolling expanses of horse farms in Ocala. The boys, still thrilled over the departure, exclaimed over every new and unfamiliar sight.
Kelly stopped for lunch and gas north of Gainesville. The trailer made drive-through impossible, so Kelly parked in the shade and locked the boys in the car, peeking out the window to make sure they were okay. Her mom studied the menu boards like an art exhibit.
After ten minutes, Sharon sighed. “I never know what to get.”
Kelly tried to contain her frustration. “It’s McDonalds, Mom. They’re the same all over the country.”
Sharon shook her head. “I know it’s easy for you, but I can never decide.”
“Mom.” Kelly took a deep breath. She wanted to get back on the road, but this was not the time to lose her temper. “Let me order so I can get the boys their food.”
Sharon waved her on. “Go ahead. I’ll be a while.”
Kelly wanted to scream. They weren’t even out of Florida. Was this a mistake?
“Mom, just order something. It’s all. The. Same.”
Sharon shot her an exasperated look. “Maybe to you. It. Is.”
“Where’s Grandma?” Denny asked. Kelly handed bags and the drink carrier through the front seats to Paulie to divvy up.
“She’s still ordering.”
Kelly had finished her sandwich by the time Sharon emerged with her order.
“I’m sorry I take so long. I never can make up my mind.”
“Next time, I’ll give you an advanced warning and you can decide what you want before we get there.” Now Kelly understood why her dad insisted on doing all the food ordering when they went out to eat. If he didn’t, they would have taken forever.
“Maybe that works for you, but it doesn’t work for me.”
Kelly fought the urge to groan. This was going to be a long trip.
* * * *
The miles passed. Kelly increased her speed as she gained confidence towing the trailer. When Denny needed an afternoon bathroom break, Kelly pulled into a rest area in northern Georgia. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a family bathroom, so the women took Denny into the ladies room with them.
“How you doing, honey?” Kelly asked.
Denny mumbled something from the stall that sounded like he dropped his cath.
Kelly exchanged looks with her mom. “What was that?”
He repeated what he said. Kelly gasped, struck with horror. The bathroom was equipped with self-flushing toilets. If Denny had dropped his catheter into the toilet, it was gone.
And he had a special metal catheter the urologist gave him to use for a couple of months. They only had one—no spares.
“Don’t flush!” Kelly screamed. “Don’t move! The toilet will flush by itself!” She tried the door. Locked, of course.
Well, the floor didn’t look too disgusting. She dropped to her knees and wiggled under the door on her back, pushing Denny’s wheelchair out of the way so she could stand.
Denny sat on the toilet, holding his catheter in one hand, the bottle of rubbing alcohol he stored it in the other. He looked aggravated.
“Mooom! Privacy!”
Her heart started beating again. “Honey, I thought you said you dropped your cath?”
“I dropped the cap—to my bottle. I can’t find it.”
Kelly took a deep, calming breath. “Okay, honey. We’ll find it.” Then to her mom, “He dropped the alcohol bottle cap.” Kelly found it, on the floor.
“Oh, thank goodness. I heard him say ‘cath.’”
Denny rolled his eyes. “Mom, I said cap, not cath. Sheesh.”
“You need to call the doctor and get another one,” Sharon said from outside the stall.
“He’s trying. They’re a special order thing, and it didn’t come in before we left. Denny’s only supposed to use it for a couple of months before he tries him with regular ones again.”
Denny glared at h
er. “Mom, I’m sitting right here.” While he didn’t mind discussing his medical issues, he didn’t like it when others talked about them without including him.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
She waited for Denny to finish before opening the stall door and washing her hands. Kelly grabbed a clean shirt from her luggage and returned to the bathroom to change. If that was the worst disaster they had the whole trip, she was happy.
Kelly hoped that was the worst disaster they had the entire trip.
Later that evening, in southern Tennessee, Kelly’s mom looked at her.
“Are you hot?” Sharon asked. She seemed incapable of simply stating what she wanted, instead choosing to hint around until someone agreed with her before she’d speak her mind. Kelly had grown sick and tired of playing the “Guess What I Want?” game with her before they even reached Atlanta, and she fought to keep her voice even.
“Mom, if you want me to adjust the temperature, all you have to do is say so.”
“Well, I don’t want to change it if everyone else is comfortable.”
Kelly gripped the wheel and bit her tongue. “Mom, please, just say what you mean. Don’t play word games. Say, ‘I’m hot, can we adjust the temperature?’ When you’re hungry, ask me to stop for food. Don’t say, ‘Is anyone hungry?’ Say, ‘I’m hungry, I’d like to eat.’” Kelly’s patience grew shorter by the mile.
Sharon looked at her. “Fine. I’m hungry. And I’m hot.”
“Fine.” Kelly reached over and wrenched the A/C knob. “One thing taken care of. Was that so difficult?”
“I didn’t want to say anything because I knew we’d end up in a fight.”
Kelly took a deep, calming breath. “We’re not fighting, Mom. We’re discussing. And if you’d simply said, ‘I’m hot,’ we wouldn’t be having this discussion.”
Sharon fell silent. Kelly knew it wouldn’t last.
“Kelly, do you have to turn everything into a discussion?”
“You’re doing it again, Mom. You aren’t comfortable with it, so you’re trying to put it back on me. Look, if we’re going to survive this trip without killing each other, promise me you’ll speak your mind. I’m not Dad. I’m not going to yell at you for wanting to adjust the air or stop for food or bathroom breaks.”
“Well, now that you mention it, I could use a potty stop.”
Kelly resisted the urge to beat her head against the steering wheel. There was an exit a mile up the road, with gas stations and restaurants. “Let’s pull over now.” She changed lanes to make the exit.
“But this isn’t when you planned to stop.”
“That’s okay. Don’t you get it? I don’t want you sitting here hot or hungry or about to explode all over my seats.”
Denny giggled. “Want one of my night diapers, Grandma? I brought extra.”
Sharon’s severe façade dissolved in a fit of laughter. By the time they reached the signal at the bottom of the exit ramp, she’d composed herself and wiped her eyes.
“I’m sorry, honey. Please bear with me. Trips with your father were always hell.”
Kelly reached out and squeezed her mom’s hand. “I know. That’s why Lee and I quit going. The two of you were fighting before we left the driveway. Talk to me, okay, Mom? Just ask.”
Sharon nodded, smiling.
They stopped for gas, food, and to use the bathroom. Her mistake, Kelly realized, was letting Denny and Paulie take a few minutes to peruse the tourist trap brochures in the restaurant, lined up in neat, tempting display racks along the wall near the door.
“Mom!” Denny screamed. Kelly whirled around, afraid someone was trying to kidnap him or Paulie.
“What?”
Denny slid to an excited stop in front of her, flapping a brochure. “Mom, we HAVE to go here! Please?”
She snagged the brochure from his flailing arm. Cooter’s Place, in Nashville. Both boys were huge fans of the Dukes of Hazard TV show, the one thing that united them above all others.
Paulie also had a brochure. “Please? Mom, please? Can we?” he begged.
She looked at the brochure and closed her eyes, knowing she’d regret it. “On the way back, yes. We don’t have time now. And only if you behave the entire trip.”
The boys cheered. Denny threw his arms around Kelly and hugged her, his chair smashing painfully into her shins and almost knocking her over. “Thank you, Mom. You’re the coolest!”
Sharon smiled. “And so it begins.”
Kelly rubbed her shins and glared at her mother.
They spent the night south of Nashville. The boys were ready to go early the next morning, and they were on the road again by seven. Travel fatigue had not set in yet, fortunately, and Kelly felt calmer after a night’s sleep.
As they rolled through the unfamiliar landscape towards St. Louis, Kelly wondered how long the positive attitudes would last.
* * * *
“There it is!” Denny screamed, startling the women. He pointed between the front seats. Over the ridge, sunlight glinted off the top of the Arch.
“Wow, it’s big,” Sharon said. “I didn’t realize how big it was. It looks smaller in the pictures.”
Kelly nodded, gripping the steering wheel tighter. Traffic was heavier as they approached St. Louis, and she was trying to minimize her lane changes. “It’s big.”
She reached the correct lane without sideswiping anyone. The boys snapped pictures of the Arch and road signs as they crossed the state line and the Mississippi River into St. Louis.
The Arch dominated the waterfront. Kelly paid the parking attendant at a nearby church to let them take up two spots in their lot. Because of the trailer, they couldn’t park in the garage. And Denny was too heavy to piggy-back up all the steps if they parked by the river.
“Wow, it’s huge,” Denny said, awestruck. He wheeled ahead of them through the trees toward the Arch, Paulie on his heels and carrying their park passport books.
Sharon grabbed a bottle of water from her backpack. “And they say Florida’s hot? This place is like the southernmost quadrant of Hell. At least we have a cool breeze at home.”
It was hot. “Mom, come on, try to get into the spirit of it.” Kelly felt the miles in her arms and back and was glad for a chance to stretch her legs. She didn’t have the energy to deal with her mom’s grousing, and bit back the urge to snap at her.
“I’ll get into the spirit when I drop dead from a heart attack hiking in this heat.”
Kelly lagged behind and stuck out her tongue at her mom’s back.
The line to get into the exhibit area under the Arch was fairly short, and it was cool inside despite the crowd. Denny and Paulie went to the information desk to stamp their passport books, their very first entry of the trip. Kelly dribbled a little water onto her hand and wiped it on her face, letting the air conditioning take over. Eventually she felt human again. The boys and her mom wandered the exhibits while Kelly rested.
With time for Denny to cath, Kelly had allotted an hour for the stop. It wasn’t enough time to do it justice, and they wouldn’t take the tram ride up to the top, but hopefully they could stop on the way back. Yellowstone was their goal, and Kelly wouldn’t jeopardize their reservations. She hauled herself to her feet and went in search of her family.
They chased the sun across Missouri to Kansas City, stopping for gas and dinner before dark. Denny enjoyed trying to read the map, but Kelly was glad he wasn’t the official navigator. Left up to him, they would have routed through Minneapolis. Or Dallas.
Kelly stretched one last time before climbing behind the wheel. “How many miles to Sioux Falls, Denny?”
Denny had the map. “I don’t see it.” He handed the map to Sharon.
She took it and studied it, frowning. “The map says twelve hours,” Sharon said.
“Mileage, Mom.”
“This little chart right here,” she pointed, “says that the time—”
“Mom.” Kelly took a breath and steadied her voice. “I nee
d to know the miles.”
“Well, AAA has already figured the time for you on the map, in this little chart.”
“Mom, miles. Please.”
“Why?”
“We’re averaging over seventy miles an hour. Give me miles so I can figure drive time based on my speed.”
“What’s the speed limit—”
“Mother!”
“Fine.” Sharon looked at the map for a long moment. “Where are we again?”
Kelly silently held out her hand for the map. Sharon relinquished it. Kelly studied it, then returned it to her mom. “Thank you.”
“When are we stopping for the night?” Sharon asked.
“I’ll let you know.” Kelly began drinking cans of espresso shots before St. Louis and got coffee at every gas stop. She felt strong enough to push onward. The sooner they got to Yellowstone, the sooner she could relax.
Shortly after eight, they made the turn north on I-29 toward Sioux Falls.
“When are we stopping for the night?” Sharon asked again.
“I’ll let you know.”
By midnight, they were closing in on Council Bluffs. “We’re not stopping, are we?” Sharon asked.
“Not until I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“You are so stubborn. You can’t keep this up.”
“I’ll pull over when I have to. I want to make sure we get to Yellowstone on time.”
Kelly got fuel and coffee in Council Bluffs. The Interstate was nearly deserted. To the west she caught glimpses of distant lightning from storms that would, hopefully, hold off. She didn’t want to drive in the rain at night as tired as she was, especially towing a trailer.
And she was tired. But she wasn’t about to admit it.
It was amazing to her, but they’d pass through the better part of two states and not see much beyond the boundaries of the Honda’s headlights.
Kelly cranked the A/C and her music to keep her awake. Both boys were asleep, and her mom reclined her seat and followed suit. The pavement changed the farther north they drove, eventually turning rougher and more like a two-lane highway than the smooth asphalt ribbon she was used to in Florida.
As highway signs materialized out of the dark and Iowa gave way to South Dakota, Kelly realized how truly far from home she was. Not alone, but never before taking a trip like this as captain of the ship. Responsible for everyone having a good time.
Cross Country Chaos Page 7
