Once Upon a Road Trip (50 page)

“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. 

“It’s not that you’re bothering me,” he said, arms locked across his chest. “My mom wanted us back in time to help get things ready for my going away party. She’s pissed enough that I invited you to stay with us—we don’t need to make it worse on her.”

Angie’s frustration boiled over into flat-out anger. “Why did you convince me to come to D.C. if you knew your mom didn’t want me here?”

Scott lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, as though he were combating a headache. “I wanted you here, okay? I wanted to see you one last time.” He hesitated. “And I didn’t want to drive nine hundred miles by myself. I thought we could help each other out. Maybe I was being kinda selfish, but I mean, you’re here now. Can’t we just make the best of it?”

“I’m trying.” Angie sighed, stuffing her camera back into her pocket. “So, what am I doing wrong? I’ve cleaned up after myself, stayed out of everyone’s way, tried not to eat any of your food— What does your mom want from me?”

Scott pulled his shoulders up in a stiff shrug. “She just doesn’t trust you or something. Maybe it’s a personality thing.” His sun-darkened brow furrowed as he pondered. “You should think about sucking up a little, you know? It’s not like you’re too good for that.”

Angie frowned. Though she didn’t like the sound of his suggestion, the relentless heat had drained the fight out of her. “We can go now,” she said, motioning further north toward the street.

Allowing Scott to lead the search for the subway, Angie trudged along in a mental fog. While she’d spent time at the water fountain back at the museum, she wasn’t sure it was enough to fend off the threat of dehydration. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, the abridged tour of D.C. was likely for the best — she would have needed several days to do it justice, anyway. Her irritability eased with the realization.

As they progressed several stifling blocks, she struggled to commit her impression of the city to memory. The immaculate streets blurred together in her mind, along with the occasional sharp-dressed citizen. Compared to New York, there weren’t many people out and about.

“You know your mom better than anybody.” Angie restarted the conversation on a calmer note, glancing sidelong at Scott. “What do you think I should do?”

Scott seemed confident in the direction they were headed, though judging by his stooped shoulders and the sweat-matted bangs that had pulled free of his pony tail, the sun was getting to him as well. “She hates cooking,” he said, pausing at a street corner to peer up at a sign. “You could make her dinner tomorrow night. She’d probably love that.” He pointed across the street and then made a dash through the crosswalk.

Angie jogged to keep up with him, though the exertion made her temples throb. She was ready for the day to be over. “I can do that,” she said, once the threat of traffic was behind her. “I’ll see if she’ll let me go with her tomorrow and help with the shopping. Does she like chicken?”

Scott had reached an outdoor access elevator that promised to lead to the underground station. “Who doesn’t like chicken?” He cast an aggravated look over his shoulder.

“Well I don’t know, I’m just asking!” Angie snapped back, exasperated. He kept punching the already glowing “down” button, and it took every ounce of her remaining self-control not to slap his hand away.

When the doors parted, an inviting rush of chilled air enveloped them. Angie lurched forward and made her way to the rear of the empty elevator, leaning her back flat against the cool wall. She closed her eyes and took in an appreciative breath. Amid her relief, she had only a vague awareness of the chime as the doors closed, and the shuffle of feet as Scott moved about.

Just as the elevator began to move, she was startled to sense Scott in front of her. And he wasn’t just in her space, he was pressing against her, crushing her between his chest and the wall. The smell of sweat and aftershave burned her nose. Then his mouth was on hers, heated and demanding. Stunned, Angie tried to break away by pushing herself at an angle, but was stopped by the fact he’d braced his arms against the wall on either side of her. She attempted to voice her protest, only to have his tongue invade her mouth. Her mind swam with dread and confusion.

What is he doing?!
Even more astonishing was the realization that she felt no desire to respond. Instead, Vince’s face appeared in her mind. The memory of his imploring green eyes filled her with resolution.

Angie snapped her head to one side hard enough to sever their contact, catching Scott’s face with her chin in the process. “Stop it!” Driven to put immediate distance between them, she dropped her weight, ducked out from under his arms, and retreated to the opposite side of the elevator. Scott remained propped with one arm against the wall, his other hand cupped over his mouth. He stared downward, dark brows pinched in a look of pain. She’d hurt him — likely in more ways than one.

Good.
She clenched her fists at her sides.

“I’m sorry.” Scott’s voice came muffled from behind his hand. He turned toward her as the elevator came to a stop.

“You should be.” Angie glowered at him, striding out when the doors parted. She scanned the cement floor of the underground hallway and started for the turnstiles she spotted ahead. “What happened to that ‘just friends’ thing? And why would you do that, after we’ve been on each other’s nerves all day—?” She turned back to Scott.

“I know, I know...it was stupid.” Scott dropped his hand. His lower lip had suffered a small split, which he began to chew at. He hung his head, avoiding any eye contact with her. “I wasn’t thinking. You just looked so—” Without finishing the thought, he ambled past her toward the subway platform. 

Angie’s outrage dwindled as she watched him walk off. It was at least half her fault, she decided. She never should have come to D.C. In her effort to preserve a friendship, she’d failed to let enough time pass for both of them to see things clearly. And surely heat delirium could share some of the blame.

After all, kissing Scott had just made her feel like she was betraying someone who she had little chance of ever seeing again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“There’s a call for you.” Scott’s mother scowled as she carried the house phone into the living room.

It was well after dark, and Angie had been winding down with a book while Scott slept off a mild case of heat exhaustion on the nearby couch. Standing, she concealed her curiosity. She wasn’t due to check in with anyone for several days. “Thank you, Cindy.” Angie smiled, willing the cantankerous woman to find her at least somewhat likable.

“Don’t you go making any long distance calls on the house line,” the smaller woman warned, handing off the device with a suspicious air. “I’ll send you the bill if you do.”

Angie held her smile, though it took all of her concentration. “Oh, don’t worry. I shouldn’t need to. I can just borrow Scott’s cell if I do—” She cut herself off upon seeing a look of irritation flare across the woman’s face. Angie pressed the receiver to the center of her chest and ducked her head as she walked to the back door, escaping onto the deck. Thick with humidity, the air outside was only moderately cooler than it had been earlier in the day. The distant rumble of thunder told her the condition of the sky before she glanced up.

“Hello?” She spoke into the phone, having nearly forgotten her curiosity. Enough of her mind was expecting Elsie to be on the other end that it caught her by surprised to hear a masculine tenor.

“Hey, Angel.” 

Angie’s throat tightened. Vince’s voice was strangely soothing, like the mental equivalent of ice on a fresh burn. She couldn’t help but smile in relief. “Hey, you.”