Page 12 of Anywhere with You
“That is not a straight line.” I pointed at the map on the screen.
Cara huffed. “It’s a road trip, Honey, not a flight. We have tourist stops, destinations.”
“Speaking of which, I’m so glad neither of us wants to go to Disneyland.”
“Me, too. I was willing to make compromises, but it would’ve been me hanging out in the hotel while you went to Disneyland by yourself, and I would’ve felt guilty.”
I imagined Cara in a hotel robe, drink in hand, clicking through the cable channels. “Not too guilty.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Is it weird that we don’t have any destination stops in Texas?”
I thought about it. “No. I mean, we’ve both lived here for a long time. I’m sure we’ve seen all the major tourist sites.”
“Hmm,” she said. “The Alamo?”
“Seen it. Big Bend?”
“Seen it. South Padre Island?”
“Oh,” I said, “well, no. But it’s a little out of our way.”
Cara grinned. “It’s worth the drive. Miles and miles of sand, hundreds of seabirds. I saw a starfish once.”
“Cool,” I said genuinely. I’d never seen a starfish except in the zoo. “I love the beach, but I haven’t been since my dog discovered that he can’t swim.”
“Oh no,” she said with a gasp.
“It was fine. I just pulled him up by his leash. The fisherman on the pier did a double take.”
“Hah, dogfish,” Cara quipped. “What’s his name?”
“I assume you mean my dog, not the fisherman. Badger.”
She thought about that for a minute. “Badger. You, Honey, have a dog named Badger. That’s adorable. Is he a vicious predator?”
“He’s a black cotton ball with manic tendencies.”
“Do you have a picture?”
I showed her my home screen and sheawwwed.
“We got him a few months ago. I’d forgotten that you hadn’t met him. Have you ever had pets?”
Cara shook her head. “My mom’s allergic to every nonhuman mammal she’s ever met. I had a goldfish once. Not very exciting.”
“Your mom doesn’t live nearby, does she? Have you thought about getting a pet now…?” I almost said, now that you live alone, but it felt too sharp. Still, Badger was the only reason my house wasn’t lonely.
She shrugged. “I guess I could. Mom’s in New Orleans. She never leaves.”
“Come meet Badger when we’re back home. He’ll make up your mind.”
Cara smiled, glancing again at my phone screen. “I have no doubt.”
As the skyscrapers gave way to box stores, the GPS spoke in a calm, British, male voice. I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Yes, I downloaded a voice for my GPS that sounds like Sir David Attenborough,” she said in explanation, not at all apologetic.
I nodded, not confessing that my GPS sounded like Fran Drescher. It had been a joke, but Bridget had been so annoyed that I’d kept it. I was fond of my faux Fran now.
