Once Upon a Road Trip (32 page)

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?

Yesterday I drove six hours total to and from Orlando, bringing with me Antonio, Josephine, and one of her friends. It was about the only thing I’ve done worth noting while I’ve been in Florida. Even though we were all stuck together for the whole day, none of them really talked to me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m an outsider, or if it has something to do with them being younger than me.

Today I slept in to recover. Since I couldn’t convince Antonio to leave the house, I ended up spending another day browning on the beach. I’m actually eager to leave for Alabama tomorrow. I think its best that I do, since I seem to be getting in the way of Antonio’s computer time. I’ve decided he reminds me a lot of my little brother. I guess it’s the enthrallment with video games and the overall apathy toward real life.

I’ve had a few more phone conversations with Vince now. I had a weak moment today when I thought I should just cancel the last of my trip and head straight back home, but he talked me out of it. I’m grateful he did. I’m sure I would have regretted quitting early. I’ll get to thank him in person tomorrow, if all goes well. I’ve got a twelve-and-a-half hour drive ahead of me this time.

Mileage Log: 4,083 mi

~Ang

Part 3

“Sometimes you find yourself in the middle of nowhere;

and sometimes, in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself.”  

–Unknown

Chapter 20

It began to rain as Angie crossed into Alabama and took the first exit for Cropwell. After a mile of nothing but dense forest on either side of the road, she decided she’d made an error. She didn’t see the gas station Vince had mentioned, and felt sure there should be more signs of civilization.

A service station with a barn-like roof grabbed her attention, but it wasn’t the one she was looking for. She turned in anyway and, to her relief, spotted a payphone tacked to the far side of the building. Once she’d gotten a hold of Vince, they quickly figured out that she’d turned off two exits too soon. Fortunately, Vince seemed familiar with the area and claimed he could be there within minutes.

Angie eased back into the front seat of her car to take shelter from the warm sprinkling as she waited. She used a baby wipe to wash her face, then leaned into the passenger seat to adjust her Stitch plush toy so it peeked up over the door with its hands and face pressed into the window. Her little navigator had already earned her the approving honks of many bored truckers.

“Well, this should be interesting,” she murmured, resting her head back as the weariness of the drive set in. It occurred to her then that she’d never seen a clear picture of Vince. The only thing she had to go on was a poorly angled high school graduation photo he’d once posted for their story-writing community. In it, he’d taken on a grandiose pose wearing black robes while one of his cousins bowed down at his feet. She wasn’t sure if that was a good indicator of his ego, sense of humor, or a little of both.

A large, white sedan pulled alongside her car, and she turned her head to have a better look. The driver was a lean, clean-shaven young man who barely looked old enough to be driving. As he got out and stood she noted his attire was well put-together — a gray button-up over a white undershirt and black cargo pants. His close-cropped hair was bright copper in color, meticulously groomed and gelled into a spiky state. He was staring at her.

That has to be him.
 

Angie pushed her door open and stood,  offering a smile and a tentative wave. “Vince?”