And it looks like it’s going to be just you and me.
Love,
Me
Dear Me,
On day one of our trip, Mimi cried about almost killing the four of us to save the turtle.
But Mimi crying isn’t all that surprising.
I mean, some people just cry more easily than others, and you can probably tell she’s kinda that type.
But today is day three, and Gram cried.
It’s not that I’ve never seen Gram cry before. She cried at Grandpa’s wake and at the funeral, but that’s normal.
And I had seen her all choked up that night back at the condo when she was holding Grandpa’s photo, but again, that seems pretty normal too.
But today?
Today was different.
Today she cried because of a gas station.
Here’s what happened:
When we woke up in the Camp Wonderful cabin, we were all super thankful that not only had the rain stopped, but the floodwater on the floor of the cabin had receded. I think seeing this made us all feel confident that sunny skies might be ahead, but it didn’t take long for our cheerful attitudes to turn dark.
First, just after we lifted our heads off the plywood planks we were sleeping on, Gram said, “Well, I guess my karaoke singing dreams just weren’t meant to be.”
Now, if I wouldn’t have warned you that a gas station is what caused Gram’s tears, you might be thinking that Gram started wailing right from the start, but she didn’t.
None of us knew what to say about her dreams having been washed away in a flash flood, but Gram’s disappointment wasn’t the only thing we had to face in the first few minutes of coherence.
All of us, in a matter of seconds, realized that sleeping on a piece of plywood, without a pillow or a mattress, pretty much makes your neck feel like a twisted pretzel.
The exact opposite of “wonderful.”
And while we were still coming to terms with the fact that we might not ever be able to turn our heads again, we realized how hungry and thirsty we all were. It made sense we were thirsty from eating all that spaghetti and garlic bread, but why were we all starved when we’d stuffed ourselves on Harmony Baptist leftovers? Back at the church, I had been so full I thought I’d never want to eat again. Maybe we ate so much we stretched our stomachs. My stomach actually felt like a gaping empty hole, and my lips were so dry I thought somebody must’ve played a camp prank on me and rubbed sandpaper on them while I slept.
And the third thing happened as soon as we all went searching for the Camp Wonderful bathroom.
Yowza! Was that thing ever revolting!
It was so repulsive I think it’s quite possible even Mrs. Brackman would’ve had to invent a new word in order to have an accurate expression of dismay over it.
But even this was not yet when Gram shed tears. You’ll have to keep reading if you want to know when that happened.
After seeing and smelling the odiferous outhouse, we decided we’d just head out to the woods to go to the bathroom, which should’ve been a marvelous improvement on relieving ourselves in the Camp Wonderful bathroom. But that brainstorm proved to be impossible.
There were so many puddles everywhere, it was unfeasible to even find a place where we wouldn’t be standing in a wading pool of rainwater or putting ourselves at risk of sinking in the mud.
As soon as we all agreed it would be best to get back in the car, head down the road, and cross our fingers for a nearby gas station or rest stop, a quick bleep came from Gram’s purse.
We all looked at each other in surprise. It sounded like Gram’s phone, but we didn’t see how, since none of us had gotten any cell service for such a long time.
Gram reached into her purse and dug around for her phone while Mimi, Brandon, and I all dug for ours. If Gram’s phone was working, ours would be too.
Unfortunately, for the three of us, the celestial cellular angels had not blessed our phones with any connection, even though Gram had hit the jackpot.
“Listen to this,” she said. “Due to yesterday’s storm, the Southeastern Qualifying Karaoke Contest for the Seniors Got Talent karaoke contest has been postponed until 1:00 p.m. today. Because the community center where the contest was to be originally held is currently underwater, the contest has been relocated to the 3XB on Lemon Street in Oaks Landing.”
“Praise the Lord!” Mimi exclaimed. “That’s nothin’ but another miracle!”
Calling this nothing but another miracle was putting it mildly. Not only was it a miracle that the contest had been rescheduled, which meant Gram would have a chance to sing now, but the fact that Gram found out it had been rescheduled was a miracle of epic proportion.
Gram had gotten the announcement in an email newsletter. Gram’s phone receiving this email when we were still way out in the middle of nowhere and the rest of us didn’t have any service was at the very least remarkable and at the very most just what Mimi said it was, miraculous.
So, we quickly got into Gram’s Mustang, not only eager to put some miles between us and all the UN-wonderfulness of Camp Wonderful, but also absolutely, feverishly excited to get to the 3XB, mostly for Gram, but also because Mimi had us convinced that a place called 3XB probably served BBQ, and “wouldn’t a pulled-pork sandwich dripping with sauce hit the spot right now.”
I didn’t know why a BBQ restaurant would be called 3XB when there were only two B’s in BBQ, but even so, the hunger that was eating away at my insides made me cross my fingers that Mimi was right.
(Oh, and in case you forgot—hunger wasn’t the only trial we were facing at the moment. We all still had to go to the bathroom REALLY bad.)
What we didn’t know, as we sped off down the rural road leading away from a place we hoped we’d never return to, is that we were only trading one agony for another.
(And by the way, when I say, “sped off,” I mean “sped” at about twenty-five miles per hour, because Mimi was driving.)
Gram couldn’t find her prescription sunglasses in the car anywhere. She’d taken them off when it had gotten too dark to see in the storm, and now none of us could find them. And since it was sunny again, Gram couldn’t drive without them. The good thing about speeding off so slowly was that it was easy to watch for the road signs we hoped to see telling us there might be a gas station, restaurant, or mini-mart ahead.
Even with Gram missing her prescription driving glasses and our slow speed, the news that Gram would still get to sing karaoke had buoyed all our spirits.
But our spirits plummeted when we all heard a “ding!” come from the dashboard of the Mustang.
“Lord have mercy! We’re almost out of gas!”
All I could think was, Really?
What could possibly happen next?
But thankfully what did happen just seconds later was that we saw a makeshift billboard made out of an old piece of wood propped up against a tree and tied in place by a rope that said, “Friendly Fill-Up Ahead One Mile.”
You can probably imagine how excited we all were being so close to fuel, food, and a real restroom.
Mimi’s “Praise the Lords,” Gram’s “Thank heavens,” and our hoots and hollers from the back seat filled the car with elated anticipation, as we all talked about what we hoped to buy at the gas station’s mini-mart as soon as we used the restroom.
Actually, looking back now, I realize it was probably those high hopes that laid the foundation for Gram’s future crying jag, because when we pulled up in front of the gas station, all I could wonder was, “Is there such a thing as worse than worst?”
Even before the Mustang came to a complete stop, Gram squawked, “What in the Sam Hill is this?!”
And even though I had no idea (and still have no idea) who the heck Sam Hill is, I agreed with Gram.
The gas station, if you could call it
that, made the cabin we had just slept in seem like a mansion.
Everyone’s excited high hopes seeped out of the car like air from a leaky tire.
A barefooted, skinny, shirtless man in cutoffs pushed open the smudged-up glass door of the station and said, “Hey, y’all!”
That’s when Gram said, “Good gosh!” under her breath, and Mimi scolded her with a “Madge!”
I wasn’t sure why Mimi scolded Gram because “Good gosh!” didn’t even come close to being the worst thing you could say about this gas station.
“Friendly fill-up?!” the barefooted man asked through his scraggly, scratchy-looking beard.
At first, none of us spoke.
We just stared.
I think we were all just frozen in disbelief.
Our hunger.
Our thirst.
Our lack of sleep.
And the barrage of bad luck we faced at every crossroads had taken its toll on all of us. The customary human instinct to press on in the face of adversity had been exhausted in all of us.
Finally, I rolled down my window and said, “Uh, yeah…” to the gas station guy, who stood staring at us waiting for an answer.
I told Gram, Mimi, and Brandon to get out of the car, and they did, but they did it as if they were in a hypnotized trance.
As we all stood next to the Mustang, watching the man walk toward the gas pump, Mimi asked in the quietest, most timid voice I’d ever heard in my life, “Um, sir, do you have a restroom?”
I’m sure you remember how much we all really needed to use the bathroom. BUT, if you would’ve seen the building we stood in front of, you would know how mind-explodingly frightening it was to think about the condition of the restroom inside that building.
The man told us the restroom was around back and that the key was on a hook inside the station. Then he turned his head, spit tobacco juice onto the pavement in front of Gram’s car, wiped his hand across his mouth and then on the side of his cutoffs before unscrewing the Mustang’s gas cap and grabbing the handle of the gas pump.
I cringed wondering if there was a limit to how much grossness a person could observe without it literally slaying them, and Gram whispered under her breath through gritted teeth, “I can wait to use the restroom.”
Then Brandon asked an unthinkable question.
“Do you have any snacks for sale?”
SNACKS?!
SNACKS?!
Was he JOKING?!
Even if I were stranded on a deserted island for the rest of my life, with no hope of rescue, I would NEVER even contemplate, for a millisecond, eating something that had once been inside the Friendly Fill-Up.*
The gas station guy told us he was sorry that he was out of hot dogs, but he had five different flavors of pork rinds and ten different kinds of beef jerky.
I almost gagged just thinking of a hot dog spinning around on one of those metal roller machines inside the building this guy had just come out of. But because the four of us didn’t really know what else to do, we walked toward the door anyway.
Mimi took a tissue out of her purse and wrapped it around the door handle.
I didn’t want to burst her sanitation bubble, but there was no way a tissue would be any kind of a barrier against the things that were likely growing on that handle.
And it was when the four of us stepped inside that Gram said, “It’s official. This whole trip was a big mistake.”
I’m not exactly sure what made her say this.
It could’ve been the damp, musty smell or the empty heated, hot dog roller machine over in the corner spinning without any hot dogs on it or the tray of hot dog juice underneath those empty rollers that was not empty or the dusty racks of beef jerky and pork rinds sitting on the card table in the middle of the room or the key attached to the big, clunky chain and rusty, old hubcap hanging from a hook on the graffiti-covered walls.
But I know what made her say what she said next, and that was Mimi’s misplaced optimism.
“It’s not that bad, Madge!” she said trying to sound cheerful.
“Not that BAD?! Not that BAD?! After all we’ve been through so far, now we’ve got to risk catching who-knows-what in the restroom of this wretched, filthy, germ-infested gas station?! No dream is worth all this!”
And then.
Gram.
Started.
To sob.
All I could think was, prepare for the worst?
Talk about worthless advice.
There’s no possible way to prepare for something that you could never ever, even in your farthest, wildest imagination envision.
Then, through her sobs, Gram said, “The only sensible thing to do is to get in that Mustang right now, get on the closest main highway, and head straight back to Sunny Sandy Shores.”
Having Gram cry was bad enough, but when she said going back to Sunny Sandy Shores was the only sensible thing to do, I felt like I’d just been punched in the stomach.
As bad as the gas station was—and as bad as I knew the bathroom was going to be when we took that clunky chain off the hook on the wall and unlocked that restroom door—hearing Gram say that the trip was a big mistake was worse.
And that was a “worse” I was NOT willing to accept.
So that’s why, even though I didn’t really believe it, I said, “Mimi’s right, Gram.”
Then I kept going and continued with my patient, enthusiastic, positive thinking.
“I bet once we get back on the road again, things will turn around for the better.”
If the PEP method worked with little kids, I didn’t see why it wouldn’t work with senior citizens too.
But Brandon looked at me with a confused face and seemed ready to say something, which I imagined wasn’t going to be all that helpful, so I raised my eyebrows at him the same way Mom did with Tori, Annalise, and me when she really needed to shut us up quick.
Brandon had no idea how important Gram’s tiny little karaoke dream was, but that didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stop us from getting Gram to Oaks Landing for her last chance to sing.
But then something happened that kind of shut all of us up. The barefooted, bearded gas station guy came inside the building.
“I kinda get the idea you folks landed here cuz a some hard times,” he said, and then he leaned down and spit into an empty soup can on the card table. “So, there’ll be no charge for the gas, and take as many snacks as you’d like. And here’s a little somethin’ to help ya get yerself back on yer feet.”
He held out some money folded up so small I couldn’t see how much it was.
Gram put her hand up and said we couldn’t take his money, and we surely wanted to pay for our gas.
“And we wouldn’t think of taking your snacks without paying,” Mimi added. “We’ve got money.”
She started digging in her purse, and Gram did too, so the gas station guy took the folded-up money and shoved it into the “Big B” pocket of Brandon’s bowling shirt.
“Betcha I got a lot more money than y’all,” the gas station guy said pointing to a bent-up metal frame hanging on the wall by the door.
Inside the frame was a photo of the gas station guy holding up a big piece of cardboard. The four of us stepped forward to get a closer look. The big piece of cardboard was a pretend check.
The guy had won six million dollars in the Florida State Lottery!
We all looked at him, and he smiled, “I told ya I got a lot more money than y’all. Folks can’t believe I didn’t sell Friendly Fill-Up the next day after I won, but why would I? Now some days, I don’t just sell gas, I get to give it away to nice folks who need it. Nice folks like y’all.”
How wild is that?!
Bet you didn’t see that one coming.
So, we took turns holding our noses a
nd using the restroom, even Gram, who still kept insisting she could wait. Then, we practically bathed from head to toe in hand sanitizer until every drop of what Gram and Mimi had brought with them was gone. Next, we each chose a package of pork rinds or beef jerky from the dusty racks, “just to be nice.” And now the four of us are back in the Mustang heading slowly toward 3XB and Gram’s first karaoke contest and who knows what else.
Love,
Me
*P.S. A footnote regarding the gas station restroom. I would classify that bathroom in the category of “Horror.” It made the Camp Wonderful outhouse look and smell like those television commercial bathrooms where, after using the most awesome, cleaning product ever, everything sparkles and shines and reminds viewers of a field of fresh lilies. And though it’s super, kindhearted of the shirtless, barefooted, lottery-winning serviceman to provide people in need with free gas and give them money, it would be a charitable act to all mankind if he used just a little bit of his lottery winnings to do something about that restroom.
Dear Me,
“We can’t bring these children into this den of iniquity.”
That’s what Mimi said when we got to the 3XB and realized that the three B’s stood for Backyard Beach BAR, not BBQ.
I was worried Gram might be headed for another sob fest.
At this point, even I was getting close to tears. We were all starving and had been fantasizing about food, specifically good BBQ, since we’d heard about Gram’s contest being relocated, but those fantasies fizzled the minute we arrived at the 3XB. Not only did the place not serve food, but even if it did, Gram and Mimi would never let Brandon and me eat anything at a place as filthy as this one. And in most circumstances, I would’ve agreed with them, because although the place wasn’t as bad as the gas station we’d just left, it had to be a close second. But I needed food, and my crumpled-up, empty lunch bag of a stomach might’ve caused me to take the risk.
But none of that mattered, because a sign hung over the outdoor entrance gate that read, “Must be twenty-one to enter. ID required.”
So, Brandon and I weren’t even allowed to enter this over-twenty-one establishment that was supposed to look like a real backyard and a beach at the same time.
When I Hit the Road Page 10
