Page 40 of Road Trip to Forever
“Yeah. Three more minutes,” she answers. “No promises on how they taste. They’re not going to be nearly as good as when you make them.”
“As long as you don’t poison them, we’re in good shape.”
Her shirt falls down her shoulder as she uses her sleeve to wipe away a clump of batter from her arm. I stare at the freckles on her back, the cluster matching the ones across her nose that haven’t faded over the years.
I want to trace them, connect the dots and see what I can draw. Maybe a heart or a square. Maybe I could writeI love you, and she would never know.
I blink the dream away and dump half a spoonful of sugar into my coffee.
“Have you packed?” Lola asks. She gives the pancakes a final flip with the flick of her wrist.
“No. It’s Saturday, and we leave on Monday. That’s what tomorrow is for.”
“Do you think you’re going to be functional enough to make sure you packed the right clothes come morning?”
“I’m not planning on drinking a handle of vodka at the reception tonight. I’m more concerned about how badly my back is going to hurt after being forced to repeatedly do the Cupid Shuffle. I’m getting too old for such lively dances.”
“Don’t remind me.” Lola groans. “I hate that song. It should go on the Songs to Retire from Weddings list.”
“Interesting. What else would you add? Surely the Chicken Dance has to be on there.”
“Absolutely. And the Macarena.”
“I don’t think anyone’s done the Macarena since the late nineties,” I say.
“I went to a wedding in Texas not that long ago and they did it.”
“In this millennium?”
“Mhmm.”
“Your first mistake was going to a wedding in Texas.”
Lola grins and sets a plate in front of me. I grab the bottle of pure Vermont maple syrup and douse the fluffy, golden pancakes with it.
We picked it up when we went apple picking last fall, just as the leaves were changing from green to red and the temperature dropped from warm to cool. Lola spotted a roadside stand where we purchased eight bottles along with three boxes of maple candy, splitting the snack on our drive back to the city.
“My second mistake was not bringing you,” she says. “I know how much you love a themed party.”
“What was the theme?”
“One-hit music wonders.”
“For awedding?”
“Yup. The couple got divorced two years later.”
“No.” I pretend to be shocked. “I don’t believe you.”
“Such a shame. I bought them a nice bowl.”
“Should’ve gotten them ninety-nine red balloons instead,” I say, grinning when Lola chokes on a sip of orange juice. “Did you decide where we’re staying on the trip?”
“Yeah, and I made the reservations. A hotel in D.C. The campsite in North Carolina. A cute AirBnB in Florida for two nights until we check into the hotel at the convention center for the show. We’re all set.”
“Are you going to tell me what city my surprise is in?”
“Are you going to tellmewhat citymineis in?” she challenges.
