Page 55 of Road Trip
“Sir, can I wrap those up for you?” She held out her hand for the panties Kelly had a tight grip on.
He handed them over with a wink. “Yes, please, and do you have any more?”
The woman smiled wickedly, looked down her nose at plastibitch, and said, “Unfortunately, those are all we have. Did you know there used to be a shop that sold corsets and other intimate apparel? It was only open for the first year of the park, but I’d love to see them reopen. Corsets can be so lovely these days, especially for those who are naturally built.” She raised an eyebrow at the woman, who turned incredibly red and actually SPIT on the ground at my feet before walking out.
“Well, I never! I’m so sorry, kids! That was downright rude,” the shopkeeper said.
Kelly tensed under my hands that were on his chest.
I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. She’s obviously got issues.”
We walked over to the register, but Kelly’s smile was gone.
“Hey,” I whispered. “I’m not modeling these for you later unless you stop scowling.”
His face softened a little. “I just hate that she said that to you. You are so beautiful, I can’t believe…”
“Oh, son, don’t worry about her. I listened to that woman complaining up and down the store for at least twenty minutes before you came in. She drove her husband off in the process.” She chuckled, and I smiled at her. She rang up our purchase with a deep discount and asked, “Are you staying on the property? I can have this delivered to your room if you are.”
Kelly looked surprised. “Thank you. We’re staying at the Grand Pacific. It’s under Graham.” He smiled down at me and accepted his card back from the nice lady.
“You two have a pleasant evening. Any plans?”
Kelly grinned. “Actually, we have reservations next door.”
I was confused. “Where? There’s nothing back here, is there?”
His evil grin took me by surprise. He bowed and held out his arm. “Where else would a good pirate take his lady than Le Petit Pirate a’ course.”
“Omigod, your pirate speak is incredibly sexy, you rogue! And here I thought you were my sweet farm boy when you’re really the Dread Pirate Roberts!”
He took me by the arm, and we waved goodbye to the shopkeeper. I was glad Kelly’s foul mood was gone, but he hadn’t told me what that phone call was about. It must have been bad if he was keeping it to himself. Perhaps he was trying to figure out how to break bad news to me. I took a deep breath for strength.I’d try to get him to open up after we’d had something to eat.
Kelly had made reservations for us, and we were seated right away. The restaurant was nearly pitch-black with the exception of the small lights on the tables. Our table was near the swamp and away from other diners. It was very romantic and I felt my breathing speed up. This felt like a real date and I was nervous. Like clammy hands nervous. After we ordered, we spent several moments in quiet.
“I always wanted to eat here, but my mom and I couldn’t find it when we came,” I admitted, hoping to break the silence a little. After everything that had happened between us, I didn’t like this awkwardness.
“What’s your mom like, Abra? Are you close?”
Ah. The family talk. Here we go.
“We are close, but it’s mostly a symbiotic relationship. I’ve had to take care of her for a long time because she doesn’t take care of herself.” I took a sip of my water and noticed my hands trembling a little. Why did I still get upset talking about her? It wasn’t going to change anything.
Kelly watched me carefully from across the table, and I knew he could see me struggle. I was grateful for his patience.
“My mom never married my father. I don’t really know anything about him other than he was Mexican and he died in prison. She ‘refused to spend her life with a loser’ she’d say and spent much of my childhood as an undiagnosed depressed person. She worked off and on when she could, but mostly my grandparents supported us. The two of them live together in Hayward in my gran’s house. I moved out when I started college at Cal State East Bay and have stayed out except when my gran has been sick so I could help them out. Grandpa passed away four years ago. I’m all they’ve got.” Another sip of water.
“So taking care of people has always been a part of you.” This was a statement he made, not a question.
I shrugged. “I guess. I went into counseling because I got a lot out of seeing my school counselor as a teenager and I wanted to give back. I didn’t really see taking care of my mom as that. That was just how our family worked. Gran did most of the heavy lifting, you know. She raised me, and Mom was kind of always another kid. I don’t know what will happen to her when…”
“Who takes care of you?” His question caught me off guard, but in a way I wasn’t surprised he asked.
“Me. I’m okay. I do what I have to. That’s why I run away every summer. It’s my little break and it helps me keep going when things are heavy.I’ve done these kinds of road trips, with friends and without, and I’ve also taken off and driven cross-country, gone with the comprehensive high school to Europe to chaperone the kids…I do something big every summer. That’s my sanity. That and music. I love live music more than anything and I go every chance I get.”
He smiled lovingly and reached for my hand. “I think your practice of running away is fantastic as long as you’re taking care of yourself. Taking care of sick family is heavy.”
I sighed. “It is. That’s why I cringe when my phone rings. You just never know what the bad news is going to be. I’m just glad I was able to go this year. I needed it bad.”
