Page 27 of Even After Sunset

I slow down suddenly as we pass a town sign. “Oh my Gosh! Look! We’re here already!” I point frantically at the sign.

He looks confused. “What are you—”

“Looklooklook!” I lean over him, motioning behind us at the sign we passed as I steer with my left hand. “The Sign! Look! Sandwich!”

He gives me this expression like I’ve lost my marbles.

“We just passed Sandwich. I thought it would take us longer to get here!”

He shakes his head slowly, and I explain. “The town we just passed—it’s called Sandwich. I wanted to eat a sandwich in Sandwich, because… how cool wouldthatbe?”

I check my mirrors and then do a swift U-Turn. My second in less than an hour, I realize.

“What are you doing?” He still looks incredulous. “Are you— You’re actually turning back?”

“Of course I’m turning back!”

Silas just shakes his head, and within less than a minute we’re back at the sign. I pull over and park so that we’re facing it, then reach in the bag for the second un-touched breakfast sandwich, which I extend to him.

He doesn’t take it.

“You are so full of it…” His eyes narrow accusingly. “You’re seriously going to pretend this is like, athing. Just so I’ll eat a sandwich you bought me.” He scoffs. “News flash: I’m not four, Jackie.”

“Can you drop the attitude for just five minutes?” I huff. “It’s legit, okay? Look. Here: it’s on my itinerary.” I place the sandwich and the bag on the dashand remove my Master Itinerary Folder from the middle console, opening it to the laminated page for today’s date.

“See?” I hold it out to him, pointing to the morning itinerary. “Here: ‘Eat a sandwich in Sandwich’,”I read.

His eyes widen and he looks at me strangely, but he still doesn’t respond. So I reach for the sandwich again and shove it into his hand. At least he takes it this time. Then I pick up the half-eaten one for myself and lift it toward him in a toast.

“Cheers!” I say.

He lifts both eyebrows, still looking utterly baffled. Then he bumps his breakfast sandwich against mine with the enthusiasm of a paperclip.

“Sure. Bottoms up,” he says. And we both take a bite of our sandwiches.

“What the…” Silas leans forward in his seat as I pull into the parking lot and bring Trudy to a full stop. He braces his hands against the dash and squints up at the plain yellow lettering above the door of the low brick building:TOILET MUSEUM. Stop number one on today’s sight-seeing itinerary.

“Seriously?” Silas turns to gawk at me. “Is this for real?”

“Yup. Cool, right?”

He looks back at the building. “Youmeantto come here?” He seems genuinely perplexed.

“Yes. I meantto come here. It’s North America’s only toilet museum!”

“Yeah.” He gives me that same unimpressed stare. “I see that.”

“Come on.” I shove lightly at his shoulder. “Be open-minded.”

He doesn’t react. And even when I get out of the camper and gesture for him to join me, he stays put. I watch from outside as he stretches forward to peer at the sign again, as if maybe he mis-read it the first time. Or it’s somehow miraculously changed in the last ten seconds.

“Let’s go!” I call, glancing back at the museum. The door is open and from this closer vantage point, I glimpse an entire plumbing diorama mounted on one of the interior walls.

He finally gets out and I wait for him to catch up to me before stepping inside.

“This issoweird,” he mumbles, walking slowly; almost cautiously.

I mean, geez, I get that it is sort of strange, but it’s not like I’m taking him to an interactive torture museum or something. I humor him, though, and as soon as we enter, I can tell he’s intrigued. And yeah, okay— technically he’s right: this placeisweird. But that’s kind of the point. A museum about plumbing is not your typical kind of tourist destination, and in my experience, typical tourist destinations are boring. They’re predictable and usually disappointing. And the photos online are almost always more appealing than the real-life version.

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