Once Upon a Road Trip (55 page)

Angie had no idea how long she’d been staring at the same blank page before Scott’s grandmother came hobbling in to collect her plate. She looked up and forced a smile of appreciation for the sturdy old woman. “Thank you.” 

Scott crossed the room and slumped into a chair in the corner, cracking open his own journal without sparing Angie a glance.

“Well, it’s past my bedtime.” Scott’s grandmother announced. “I’ll be up with the sun. You two sleep in as long as you like.” Her leathery face crinkled with warmth.

Angie forced herself to hold a smile as she nodded and thanked the woman again. She felt herself abruptly consumed with the awareness that she would be left alone with Scott. Anxiety knotted in her stomach, but she convinced the rest of her to remain still.

Though he told his grandmother goodnight, Scott seemed to be ignoring Angie with the same determination she’d been using to avoid him. She forced herself to stare into her open journal for several more minutes, sketching a picture in one corner after she’d resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be accomplishing much else. Just as she considered retreating to the guest room, Scott spoke up in a low voice.

“I don’t know what to do, sis.” He spoke in a defeated tone without looking up, apparently reciting from something in his journal. “Me and Angie had a fight last night. A big one.”

She looked up and stared across the room at him, dumbfounded.

A fight? Is that what he’s calling it?

“There’s no chance for us now. I know that,” he read on in lament. “If you ask me, romance is a pretty sucky thing to happen to a friendship. But I dunno—maybe friendships need to go through hard stuff like this to prove what they’re really made of.”

Angie couldn’t decide if she was more angered or baffled by his words. He was only partially making sense. Was Scott intentionally editing his own version of events, or was his memory that distorted? Some small piece of her mind wavered then, suggesting that her own recollection could be faulty. Even now, her impressions from the previous night lingered more like an obscure nightmare than lucid reality.

But surely he was trying to manipulate her by reading this out loud.

“She never talks anymore. I can’t tell what she’s thinking.” Scott paused, but he wasn’t finished. “So what are we now? Maybe we’re still friends. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to call her my ex, or what.”

Angie stood up, fury trumping confusion in an instant. “To be your ex, I would have had to agree to the whole girlfriend thing in the first place,” she said in a steady, definite voice. “Which I didn’t.”

Scott looked up at last, mouth twisting at the corners. His hazel eyes narrowed into a tempestuous glare. “So what, making out doesn’t count for anything? Cuz I’m pretty sure you liked that as much as I did.”

Taken aback by his accusatory tone, Angie’s spine went rigid. Humiliation burned like bile at the back of her throat.

He thinks I deserved it.

Rather than speak another word, she fled — through the kitchen and down the hall to the tiny spare bedroom that was hers for the night.

She locked the door behind her and pressed her back against it, slowing the rapid breathing that accompanied her sudden upheaval of emotion.
So stupid
, her mind condemned her. She decided then that she would depart right away in the morning, only saying goodbye to Scott’s grandmother if possible. If he caught her leaving and tried to guilt her into a parting hug, he would just have to be disappointed. The mere thought of him touching her again made her stomach churn.

Lightheaded, Angie turned out the light and eased forward to the foot of the bed. She bent and crawled to the middle, laying herself flat over the patchwork quilt.

After all this, I’m still just a gullible little girl.

If she’d been so wrong about trusting Scott, what else was she wrong about? Steeped in a fog of despair, Angie found herself second-guessing the road trip, Vince, and even the conviction of her life holding any purpose.
In that moment, she’d never been as disappointed in anything as she was in herself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If Angie dreamt at all that night, the memory of it eluded her. It seemed as though she’d been adrift only a few moments before being startled awake to a fear so raw, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

She sat up, heart pounding. The guest room was dark, but she knew where she was. A shadow broke the shaft of light that spilled in from narrow gap between the door and the floor. Keenly aware of the sound that had shocked her into consciousness, she tuned in to the faint scrape and click of the locked doorknob being tested. The shadow shifted away and she heard the door to the nearby bathroom open and close.

Aware she’d been holding her breath, Angie leaned forward over her lap and sucked in a gasping gulp of air. She lifted her hands and held her head between them, rocking forward and back.
You’re overreacting,
she told herself
.
No one was trying to get into her room. For all she knew, it was only Scott’s grandmother wandering the halls. The logic should have reassured her, but she couldn’t shake the sensation of an invisible clamp squeezing at her ribcage.

Desperate to find a position to ease her strain, she managed to stretch herself out onto her hands and knees. No longer surreal, images from the night before came tearing through her brain. She felt her skin chill as sweat broke out along her brow and down her spine.

A dull pain clawed at her chest. “Oh…God,” she choked, a whispered plea for help.

Coherent thought scattered in all directions. Was this what a heart attack felt like? No, that didn’t make sense. She grasped at mental fragments until she’d pieced together a more plausible explanation — she was losing her mind. The idea sat better with her than an untimely death, but just barely.

Before she’d had time to mourn her sanity, the intensity of her distress began to recede. Like an ebbing tide, tension pulled back from her in steady waves. Her lungs relished their restored freedom. Limbs heavy and quivering, Angie sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment as she regained her bearings.

Normalcy seemed far more hesitant to return than it had been to flee. There was no clock to tell her how much real time the episode had consumed, but she knew by the sounds coming from the bathroom that it hadn’t lasted long. It was as though she’d spent a minute in Hell, and it had felt like an eternity.

A prickling urgency lingered. She stood up as soon as she felt able and went to the door, reassuring herself that it was still locked. Pawing along the wall, she located a wooden desk chair near the corner of the room. She moved it over, setting the slatted back against the door. However paranoid she thought it was, she needed the additional line of defense — her peace of mind demanded it.

As she made her way back to the bed and crawled under the quilt, Angie heard the rattle of the bathroom door. She froze. A lesser form of the same mindless, instinctive fear gripped her once again. Her elbows locked under her, sending a trembling tension through her arms and shoulders.

The door opened and closed. Footfalls faded into another part of the house. Silence returned, leaving nothing to distract from her frayed nerves and tormented spirit. While she may not have misplaced her mind for long, it hadn’t returned to her unscathed. She recognized then that she’d become what every well-meaning road trip naysayer had feared — a victim of circumstance. A statistic.

Angie buried her face in her pillow and sobbed.

Chapter 33

“Hey, these aren’t bad,” Elsie said, flipping through a stack of Angie’s freshly developed photos. “For coming from disposable cameras, I mean.” The willowy girl had draped herself backward over the arm of the living room sofa, hanging her upper body upside down while she examined the evidence of the road trip.

“Thanks, I think.” Angie answered from a worn armchair nearby. Arriving home only hours earlier, she’d first dropped off her cameras and had a brief conversation with her mother. She’d then attempted a fitful nap, which Elsie had mercifully interrupted with her arrival. Angie still felt tired and unsettled, but she was grateful for the company.

“Aww, what a dork.” Elsie crooned, holding up a picture of Scott. In it, he was seated in a meditative position on top of his pool table, glowering at the camera. “I can’t wait until he gets here. We need to come up with stuff to do while he’s around. I had an idea the other day, but we’re going to need twenty pounds of fireworks and a porta-potty.”

“That sounds…messy and illegal,” Angie said, darting her gaze away from Scott’s photo  while forcing an amused smirk for her friend’s sake. A dull sense of astonishment descended over her as she considered how much her perspective had changed in the weeks since she’d taken that picture.

Elsie gave an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what my dad said. Blah blah blah…something about a burn permit…blah blah…the bail money is coming out of my college fund.” She flicked her wrist in a dismissive wave and perked up with renewed gusto. “Hey, how about driving us all to The Mall of America instead?”

Angie squirmed in her chair. “You might have to handle that yourself. Your cousin and I weren’t really getting along by the end there,” she replied.

Understatement of the century
.

“Couldn’t you just play nice…for me?” Elsie whined in disappointment, grabbing up another stack of pictures to flip through. “Come on, you guys were getting along great over the phone. It can’t be -that- different.”

“It is, trust me.” Angie swallowed to ease the tight sensation gripping her throat. She wanted to tell her friend what had happened in Indiana — just as she’d wanted to tell her mother, but she hadn’t found the words or the courage to do so. The need to tell someone had been gnawing at her all afternoon. But two things held her back like a tether: Embarrassment, and the overriding fear of being blamed.

Now, seeing Elsie’s eager anticipation over having her cousin in town, she had another reason to hesitate. The timing felt wrong. If she told her friend at all, it would have to be after Scott came and went. That left only one person she could talk to.

“So, is this the one you decided to keep?” Elsie asked. She paused her shuffling to hold out a picture of Grady.

“Nope.” Angie reached for the remaining stack and picked up the next image — a shot of Vince with his dog huddled beside him. She flipped it over to offer Elsie a long look, but then brought it in close to her own eyes to study the photo of the young man who’d chased her with such determination. A wistful smile touched her lips.

“Wow, he must have a stellar personality,” Elsie said.

“Hey—”

“Don’t go taking it wrong!” The other girl righted herself on the couch arm and held up a finger. “It’s nothing against him or anything. He just…looks like the kind of guy -I- would date. So I figure something about him must have really won you over.” Her pale eyes held a rare sincerity as she spoke.

Angie considered before nodding. “I gave him every reason to give up on me, and he wouldn’t.” 

“Oh good, so he’s as stubborn as you are.” Elsie arranged her expression into a lopsided grin. “You think that’ll be enough?”

“There’s a lot more to it than that.” Angie got up from the chair and crossed the living room, plucking a padded envelope from atop a stack of mail on the kitchen counter. She returned to the chair and withdrew a small felt box along with a folded piece of paper. While she busied herself with the box, she handed Elsie the accompanying note to read.

My Angel,

I was feeling guilty about sending you home with nothing to remind you of your experiences here, save for a few pictures. Enclosed, you will find a box that holds something very precious. It is a symbol of love and a reminder that with you always are two who will carry you in the hard times, love you in the trying times, and comfort you in the sad times. You should know that you have made a great impact on my life, introducing God to me in ways I have never accepted him. This is something I will be eternally thankful for. Because of you, I know what happiness feels like. I don’t quite understand how it is that you found me or how I found you. But I don’t want to question it.

When all else fails, I hope that you will remember that I will always be there for you... and so will God. And I hope you will never forget you can talk with me about anything that troubles you. I will do everything in my power to make you happy, Angel. It’s the least I can do to repay you for the happiness you’ve brought me.

Love always,

Vincent

“Aww,” Elsie said. She handed the note back with a teasing look on her face. “Do you have a mint or something? I think I just threw up a little.”

Angie pulled off one of her flip-flops and poised herself threateningly.

Elsie squawked, holding her hands up in defense of her face. “I’m kidding!” She tipped over then, falling sidelong onto the couch cushions. Scrambling into an upright position, she bounced once playfully and held out an upturned palm in request. “Okay, okay. Let’s see it.”

Angie held up the delicate gold chain she’d just finished securing around her neck, allowing a simple cross pendant to dangle between her fingers.

Elsie leaned forward, peering at the necklace. “It’s…petite.”

“It’s perfect,” Angie insisted.

“Sure.” Elsie snickered. “Man, you both got it bad.” She sobered, drawing her legs up under her. “You sure this is such a good idea? He does live on the other side of the country.”

“I know it’ll be tough.” Angie leaned back in the plush chair, caressing the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. “I think I’ll know for sure if we can make it work after tonight,” she added, her mind drifting back into anxiety. As much as she longed to talk to Vince, she felt sure what she had to tell him could make or break their fledgling relationship. He would either believe her, or he would finally have a reason to change his mind. Unable to forgive her own poor judgment, she couldn’t see herself blaming him for the latter.