The Sonderberg children attended private school. The public schools didn’t let out for another two weeks. That was another reason why they always vacationed this time of year. The usual tourist destinations were still devoid of high school and college students and families traveling with kids. Only Wendy was upset, bemoaning the lack of boys her own age to chat with.
Frank worried about his daughter’s preoccupation with members of the opposite sex, only to have Alicia reassure him that it was nothing but another phase. Wendy was no worse than any other pretty girl that age, and better than some. It was all part of growing up. Like her son’s admittedly regrettable overeating problem.
Alicia had to admit that her son’s junk food binge was lasting longer than was healthy. His continued inactivity wouldn’t be so bad if he was, say, a computer genius or something. But he was quite average, well-meaning enough but in no way exceptional. In that regard he was much like his parents. Frank Sonderberg had risen above his station through sheer determination and hard work. Maybe when Steven was older he would begin to show some skill, or at least a little of his father’s drive. To date, however, the boy had proved himself relentlessly ordinary.
Nobody appreciated what he was trying to do for them with this trip, Frank mused. Not Wendy and Steven, not even Alicia. They knew only city life, the big house, the private schools, vacations, and shopping sprees. It wasn’t right. He enjoyed all those things himself, having worked hard to gain them. But there ought to be some balance in a person’s life. Frank was big on balance.
If you lived in the city then you should spend some time in the country, and if you were a country person you needed to experience the sophistication of the city. Balance. Television couldn’t compensate. Watching the creatures of the desert on Nova or Disney or Nature wasn’t the same as encountering them in the wild.
Their brief sight of a family of javelinas in a gully just the other side of Barstow had been instructive. Alicia couldn’t get over how “cute” the two babies were. Wendy wondered why all the fuss over a bunch of hairy pigs, and Steven spent the whole evening at the RV park whining about bacon and pork chops. While there was something to be said for reducing an experience to its essential elements, his family had a way of doing it that transformed the extraordinary into the mundane.
Maybe he was expecting too much of them. Especially the kids. He doubted they were all that different from their friends. Everything had been given to them. Alicia knew better, but his decision to drive instead of fly to Vegas was clearly baffling to her as well.
Indifference and muted hostility. Those were his rewards for trying to act the responsible father. For trying to show his family something of the world beyond Los Angeles. Side trips to San Diego, San Francisco, and New York didn’t count. He’d sired an urban family, pure and simple. To Wendy and Steven a wildlife expedition consisted of going to the beach and fighting to avoid anything organic while playing in the surf.
He looked up at the map secured by magnetic clips to the bare metal dash above the radio/cassette player. Fifty miles to go to Baker, the minuscule outpost of civilization that lay between Barstow and Vegas. This was one of the emptiest spots in California. Nothing to the south, Death Valley to the north.
In point of fact, he reluctantly confessed to himself, it was pretty boring. Not like the Pacific Northwest or the bayous of the Deep South. Not that he was intimate with those regions, either. He was an armchair explorer, letting someone else’s camera be his eyes. Until this trip.
He was ready to admit defeat, conquered by apathy. Already he’d discarded his original plan to take several days between San Bernardino and Vegas to explore side roads and beckoning arroyos. Not even the unblemished night sky had been sufficient to enthrall his offspring.
“We saw it all at the planetarium, Daddy.” So much for his daughter’s sense of wonder. As for Steven, he could only decry the absence of a laser show.
“Right,” he muttered to no one in particular. “I give in.”
Alicia glanced over curiously. “You give in to what, dear?”
Instead of replying he turned his head to the right, shouted toward the back of the motor home. “Hey! You kids!”
Steven looked up from his comic book. “What’s up, Dad?”
“We’re going to—Get that thing off your sister’s head, will you?”
The boy shook his head violently. “Uh-uh. If I touch ’em she’ll hit me. Shes always hitting me.”
Alicia finally managed to catch her daughter’s eye. Wendy rolled her eyes and nudged the earphones back from her ears. Mötley Crüe drifted weakly through the motor home.
“What is it now?”
“You win.” Frank kept one hand on the steering wheel.
Wendy glanced at her little brother, who shrugged. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I give up. I try to introduce you to a new experience, try to show you something unique, and I’m just wasting my time. I know when I’m beaten.”
“Frank, watch the road,” Alicia cautioned him.
“I am watching the road. Not that there’s anything to watch.” He waved his hand at the cream-gray concrete. “There’s nobody else out here. We’re the only ones stupid enough to drive this stretch of road in the middle of the day, right?”
That wasn’t entirely true. Eager gamblers crammed into old Chevys and Toyotas occasionally rocketed past the motor home, exceeding the speed limit by a good twenty to thirty miles an hour in their haste to reach the neon lights and gaming tables just over the state line. They vanished rapidly over the shimmering, heat-struck horizon.
“We’re not making any more stops,” he explained tiredly. “We’re gonna drive straight through. When we get there we’ll check in to a big hotel, just like everybody wants. I’ll turn the motor home in to the rental agency and we’ll fly home when vacation’s up.”
“Wow, that’s great, Dad!”
“Thanks, Pops.” Wendy slid her headphones back into position, closed her eyes. “That’s really rad of you.” Her upper body began to sway rhythmically.
“You’re both welcome.” His sarcasm was lost on them. He saw that Steven had abandoned his comic book in favor of a Transformer toy.
When he’d been a boy he’d had cap pistols and a football and a train. Immutable diversions. Now they had toys that turned into other toys. What galled him was that he couldn’t figure out how they worked. He’d once spent a futile couple of hours fiddling with one of his son’s Transformers and had achieved only a fine sense of feeling daft. Steven’s pudgy fingers effortlessly turned the chunk of brightly colored plastic and metal into a succession of sleek gadgets.
“You look worried,” said Alicia. “You’re upset.”
“Sure I’m upset.”
“You’ve got that look on your face.”
“What look? The look that says I’m forty and death is just around the corner?” He tried hard not to smile at her and failed. She reached over and caressed his right arm, squeezing gently. Both his expression and his voice softened.
“You’ve known me so long. I don’t know what I’d do without you, babe.”
“Same back at you, Sonderberg. Want to drive for another hour, or you want me to take over?”
“Naw. I’ll stay with it awhile longer. After all, I’d planned on driving for another couple of days. You’re not real disappointed, are you?”
“Would I lie to you, Frank? No, I’m not disappointed. A real bed and a real shower would be so nice.”
“So much for the natural experience,” he grunted.
“If you want to expose the children to nature, maybe at the end of summer we can all go up to Yosemite together. I think they’d handle that okay.”
“Sure they would. There’s fast food machines everywhere, cable TV, and plenty of boys for your daughter to flirt with. We can stay in some fancy hotel and eat out every night.”
Her smile faded slightly. “You know, Frank, keeping house even on wheels and cooking three meals a day on that little gas stove isn’t exactly my idea of a vacation.”
“All right. Point conceded. Look, I’ve already given in, haven’t I? I said we’d drive straight on through and take the plane back when it’s time to come home. Don’t make me feel any worse about it than I already do.”
“I know you better than that, Frank. You’re protesting too much. Don’t tell me you’ve been having such a grand time yourself. Be honest, now.”
As usual with Alicia he was unable to muster a convincing lie. “Yes and no. I’m disappointed the kids didn’t get to see more of this country. I’m sorry you and I didn’t get to see more. But maybe they aren’t old enough to appreciate it like I thought, and maybe it’s the wrong time of year.” Even though it was early summer it was already too hot to stand outside for long. “My intentions were good, sweetheart.”
“I know that, Frank. I think the children realize it, too.”
He was nodding to himself. “My intentions were good. It was just the actuality that stank, right?” He held up a hand to forestall her protest. “Maybe we’ll try it again another year.” He stared out the bug-splattered windshield at the endless ribbon of highway, the sallow-colored hills, and frugal vegetation. “Yosemite probably would be more interesting. It’s just that we were going to Vegas anyway.”
“Education shouldn’t be the main purpose of a vacation, dear. It’s a lot like work. It’s hard enough to get you to relax. You’re thinking about work right now, aren’t you?”
“I’m always thinking about work. Can’t help it, hon. I’m trying to run fifty-six stores and get ready to open those four new ones in Oregon. Two in Portland, one in Medford, the other in Eugene. It’s tough to leave stuff like that behind you. You don’t know what it’s like trying to run the company now that it’s gotten so big.”
