She pulled at her eyebrows and earlobes to stay awake. She wondered about Powell and his pot-growing and if he’d go back to school and how he was grieving for his father. She wondered about Apricot, what she’d do when she found out that Ammalie had left her home, and if any of her older-sister instincts would kick in, and how the cancer was. She wondered how Mari was faring through her divorce. She wondered how Levi was. “Levi—pronounce it like the jeans,” he had said upon meeting her. Levi, a man like no other. Levi, the customer who made her heart thump. But she had to learn to stop thinking about Levi, she’d never even had a relationship with Levi except for in her mind, and Levi couldn’t care less about how she was doing, and it was ridiculous where her brain went.
This was the crux of her new life goal: to change her brain. Like, really change her mind. Change what her brain was occupied with. Because, frankly, she didn’t want to die this way, daydreaming about an imaginary life—and if Vincent’s death had taught her anything, it was that death did not wait around for you to get it together. Life was not what happened in your daydreams. Life was what happened in your life. And if your life was stupid and dull, well, that was your own damn fault.
She pulled over for gas at a station in a cluster of buildings that were surrounded by an expanse of pale-yellow dried grass covered in a dusting of white, and this enormous meadow was hugged on all sides by mountains, and the mountains were being hugged by dark clouds that were surely sending down snow. She filled up the gas tank and although she had enough food, she let her hoarding-OCD-ness take over, and she bought three more cans of soup, an extra half-and-half for her coffee, and another sandwich. Back in the car, she didn’t even bother putting them in her cooler; she was close enough now. Within the hour.
She glanced at the time and did some calculations in her mind as she chomped on the last bits from the enormous bag of Chex mix that she’d made to save herself money. It was important she get to the cabin before full dark, but certainly during the early evening, when most people would be settling in at home and eating dinner or watching TV. If there was one thing you could count on in life, it was people’s patterns.
She figured she had a half hour to kill, so she tried the one person who would offer comfort instead of require effort, and who surprisingly picked up. “Mari! Why aren’t you at work?”
“Hello, friend,” Mari said. “Because I’m home sick.”
“Sick with what?”
“A regular cold that feels surprisingly lousy. Where are you now? Wyoming? And I actually looked at the map you sent. Why are you going in such a weird, convoluted way?”
“Because I want to see this great country of ours! And I’m in Colorado. Looking at blue mountains that are turning white as I speak, and I’m almost to my first real destination. I miss Arlo. And am in need of a pep talk.”
“Arlo? Who’s Arlo? You mean that dog we had years ago, in college?”
“I miss Vincent, I miss Powell, I miss you, but I was also just missing Arlo. I’d love to be road-tripping with Arlo. It’s kinda scary, being alone. I look disgusting. You should see me. I feel disgusting.”
“I think you’re allowed to miss whatever you feel like missing. I thought you didn’t really like dogs. Actually, you did, didn’t you? Vincent didn’t like dogs. Too much hair to clean up. And you don’t have to be alone and disgusting, you know. You could have waited and planned this trip with me, for instance.”
“I never pressed Vincent about dogs because I’ve been tired. Everything in the past years has made me tired. I’m going to get untired. By life. It’s like a workout, but for the soul. That’s what this solo trip is. Like those vision quests young kids have to do in some cultures to become a man or whatever? This is my version of that. I’m just delayed by several decades.”
Mari breathed a snorfly laugh. “You’ve been alone too much. You’re such a weirdo these days, freaking the fuck out and driving across America despite never having done such a thing, nor ever expressing interest in such a thing. How’s the Grey Goose? And whatever else you’ve named today?”
“My camping stove, I’ve named it Dude. I am so much more efficient! I can set up my camp table, start Dude, make coffee, watch the sun rise, and without as much misery as when I’d first started, and then I tell Dude thanks—”
“Oh god, you’re talking to a camping stove—”
“—and then I get gear packed up and I’m on the road before anyone notices my presence. I also fully know how to use pepper spray. All these years I’ve been carrying it around but never tried to use it—”
“Oh my god, you’re using pepper spray—”
“—but I tried it last night in Nebraska. Works great. I bet the rock outcropping didn’t appreciate it, but I was smart enough to not be downwind from it. I truly have learned a few things.”
There was an audible, exaggerated sigh. “That sounds so horrible, I can’t even express how horrible all that sounds. That’s what hotel rooms are for.”
“Bleh.”
“Convenience and comfort and safety. I think maybe you shouldn’t be talking to your camping stove. In fact, I think sleeping in the back of your car and talking to Dude, a camping stove, and practicing with pepper spray, well, those are sure signs you should come home.” Then there was a pause and a sneeze. “I have already told you this, but I think we can all see your psychology at work here. Vincent didn’t survive, and so you are in some sort of survival mindset, and, you know, Ammalie, it’s not the apocalypse. There are still hotel rooms and coffee shops.”
“It’s a challenge, Mari. Like, some people choose to run marathons. Some people choose to sail across the ocean. Others choose to hike across glaciers. I have no idea why—all those things seem stupid. But those people exist. Explorers. It all sounds miserable. Why would they do such idiot things? But this trip is born of the same impulse. I want to prove I’m tough and competent and interesting and therefore beautiful, so that even if no one else loves me, I can love me.”
As she spoke, she was staring at the floorboard of her car, at the scattered mail and sunflower seed shells and pear bits, and realized that the envelope containing her car tags was among the mail. She had until the end of the month to put them on, but she needed to remember. She’d once been advised by Apricot, who was a klepto back in high school, that people only got caught when they did two illegal things at once, so having up-to-date tags on her car would probably be wise.
“I love you, Ammalie,” Mari was saying. “So does Powell. So does your sister. So do lots of people. You are so not alone.”
“Also, I want to be fortified for the twists and turns of the rest of my life. Isn’t that a good line? I came up with that on the drive.”
“That’s lovely.”
“Fortified with adventure. The way not to get depressed about getting older is to remain a curious learner. Education is fortification. I heard that on an angry talk-radio show, which I forced myself to listen to for a few minutes because of this same impulse—I must try new things, even if I find them confusing! And it’s only been ten days! Well, fifty-five years on the planet, which included a year of unexpectedly living alone, and then ten days.”
Mari sniffled and sneezed again. “Just so you know, you’ve always been competent. Mother, wife, waitress, human being, all that jazz—your life here was enough.”
“Naw.” Ammalie felt the sting of truth pounce on her heart. “Naw, that’s just not true. Too passive, in action and in communication. Too floaty. Too tired. Basically, I’ve been a lazy person. Letting Vincent do all the decision-making.”
“Maybe because Vincent insisted he do all the decision-making—”
“Or because I let him—”
“—Or because he liked it that way, Ammalie! Cripes, you sometimes drive me crazy.” Mari’s voice verged on angry now. “You’ve been working your whole life, and, might I add, at a job you stayed at because it was convenient for Vincent and Powell; you could have gone back to school, you could have done anything—”
“I liked waitressing; some people actually like it.” Ammalie felt the bark in her voice and took a breath. “And I liked getting out of the house at night, in those early days, so that Vincent had to do the nighttime parenting; heh, the only way to get some men to engage is to leave the vicinity.” But she knew she was telling a half-truth. It had simply been the easiest path.
“No, you did it because it made life easier for Vincent, who wanted life made simple for him. You married a mildly controlling man. Or not so mildly! I know you hate hearing that, Ammalie, but he wasn’t always good for you.” Mari sneezed again, and then again, and then there was the sound of the blowing of a nose.
“I am telling you, I actually liked waitressing. People-watching and good-enough money and come on, Mari, you know it was a cool place! Low-key! And that Burt was the best. And needed me. And also, you don’t sound so good.”
In agreement, Mari let out a hacking cough, and then managed, “Well, I’m going through a divorce, I have a cold, there are nuclear weapons, and all that stuff we used to protest together still exists, and it gets me down because it should get me down and we’re all tired.”
Ammalie crunched a peanut from her Chex mix in her teeth. “Remember our dating days? Music and beer and lots of boyfriends. Surely we had colds then, but that’s not what I remember. We were having too much fun.”
“Yes.”
“We didn’t realize.”
