by Claire Raye
“I don’t know,” I respond back. “People change, I guess.”
“No one leaves southern California for this place,” Alice says, looking out the window with a disgusted look on her face.
“He’s a professor at the university, by the way. He isn’t living off the land,” I quip back, shaking my head at her.
“Um, look around, Nora. Everyone here lives off the land. There’s corn on all sides of us. This place is like Children of the Corn.” Alice shudders dramatically and lets out an irritated huff before continuing. “Please tell me we aren’t staying in some B&B on the side of the road.”
“Fine. We aren’t staying in a B&B on the side of the road. We’re staying at one that’s off the main drag in town.”
“Oh for fuck’s fake,” Alice mutters, but I see her lips twitch up in a smile.
We’ve been in the car a little over nine hours when I pull into the place and it’s not just Alice who’s staring open-mouthed at the building in front of us. I am too.
“It looks like a pole barn,” Alice says.
“That it does,” I answer back.
When I book the hotels, especially in these small towns, it’s hard to find something that isn’t a complete shit hole. From the looks of this place, I failed.
We both exit the car and stare at the building for a few more seconds before heading around to the back of the car and grabbing our bags from the trunk. At this point we don’t have much of a choice but to stay. It’s late, it’s paid for and we only have to brave it for one night…I hope.
“It’s just one night,” I tell Alice and I watch her scrunch up her nose and meander up the walkway as if it’s filled with snakes. She’s moving slowly and slightly on her tiptoes, her arms firmly at her sides. The whole scene makes me laugh out loud.
“This is totally fucking going to be him. You know that, right?” Alice says and shoots me a filthy look.
“Whatever,” I respond back, giving her a little shove as she teeters on her toes.
If we thought the outside was rough, it’s got nothing on the inside. It smells like a litter box and seeing as there are at least ten cats gracing the lobby, it explains the odor.
“No,” Alice says immediately.
“It’s one night,” I hiss back through clenched teeth as an elderly lady smiles at us from behind a rustic log-cabin style desk.
Stomping off and taking a seat on the arm of a very old chair, Alice lets out a long, irritated sigh, but when I glare at her, she gives me a coy smile.
After a lengthy but totally unnecessary conversation with the owner about the sleeping habits of the cats that seem to run this B&B, I’m checked in and dragging my tired ass to where Alice is sitting. She looks about as exhausted as I feel.
“Ready?” I ask and she hauls herself out of the chair, giving me a quick nod.
We walk silently down the worn out floral carpet to our room, and using a key that is attached to a rather large wooden disk, I open the door.
I have no idea why either of us is surprised, but the looks on our faces definitely scream what-the-fuck.
In the center of the room is a double bed with a threadbare quilt that looks like Betsy Ross herself could’ve made it. But what’s worse than the ratty ass quilt, the tiny bed and the overall appearance, is the smell.
“Oh my god,” I cringe. “I thought the sandy shit box smell was bad. It’s got nothing on this.”
I look back at Alice who is standing behind me and she’s now taking pictures with a stoic look on her face.
“Just in case we die here,” she says snapping a selfie of the two of us.
“We aren’t going to die here, Drama,” I say as I strategically place my suitcase on the dresser instead of the floor.
“We may die of asphyxiation,” Alice says while holding her nose and setting her suitcase next to mine.
“It does smell pretty fucking rank in here.”
Opening my suitcase, I grab a few things and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I finish, I find Alice already in bed, and since there’s only one bed, I squeeze in next to her. Both of us are thin, so I can only imagine what it would be like to share this bed with her if we weren’t.
As soon as I pull the sheets up, an odor wafts over both of us and Alice starts laughing.
“What?” I ask and she’s now laughing even harder.
“It smells like Grandma Ruth’s house,” she says in between giggles. “Like cigarettes, newspaper, shit and wintergreen Canada mints.”
“It totes does,” I respond, now laughing just as hard as Alice is.
Grandma Ruth was our mom’s mom and she was nothing like our mother. She was crass and vulgar, she didn’t like kids and she smoked like a chimney. Actually, at the rate Alice is going she’ll be the next Grandma Ruth.
“I’m gonna end up like Grandma Ruth if I don’t get my shit together soon,” Alice says, but this time there’s less humor to her tone.
“Nah,” I answer, because I can’t keep beating Alice down. I’m no better. The fact I’ve spent twelve years searching for a guy makes us even, especially since I lead a relatively normal life besides this. “And if you do, can you at least put out better candy? Those mints are fucking gross.”
“I’ll put out some kind of anise flavored shit,” she says, and I burst out laughing. “Either that or something clove flavored. All that shit tastes like a funeral parlor smells.”
We laugh together for at least an hour, reminiscing about our grandma and her smelly house, which leads to discussing in detail the smell in this B&B and then to why the woman who owns it has so many cats. The discussion keeps us both laughing and at some points, we are both in tears.
I never realized it, but I miss interacting with people while I’m on this trip. Mostly it’s spent in silence with me following a set agenda. I’m having a great time with Alice here.
“Hey, Alice?” I ask when the room falls silent.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks for coming with me,” I say, but I feel myself get choked up.
“No problem.”
The next morning Alice and I head over to the university and after reviewing this Elliot’s class schedule online, we duck into his eight a.m. lecture, taking a seat in the last row in the back.
While his lecture on art history is quite entertaining, and he is extremely handsome, it’s not my Elliot. As I listen to him speak, I find myself coming to terms with the fact that I need to end what it is that I’m doing. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.
The countless people I’ve tracked down only to find they are not who I’m looking for. It’s getting old and usually at this moment I feel defeated and let down, but sitting in this lecture hall I’m suddenly okay with the fact that this is not who I’m looking for.
“You ready?” Alice asks, running her hand down my arm in a manner that is meant to be reassuring.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
We head back to the B&B, checking out and loading our suitcases into the car. As we toss our bags in the trunk, Alice jokes about how we’ll have to fumigate everything before our next stop and I can’t help but agree.
We are heading to Astoria, Oregon next and it’s at least a two day drive; something neither of us are looking forward to. Before leaving the B&B, I adjusted the schedule and changed the hotel reservation in Astoria to be a few days later than planned.
“You wanna see Mt. Rushmore?” I ask Alice as we pull out of the parking lot, leaving behind that dreadful stay but not the stench.
“You fucking know I do,” she says sounding far too excited about something so mundane.
“Let’s do it then,” I respond smiling at Alice as she beams back at me.
A few seconds later, Alice connects her phone and The Beatles “Rocky Raccoon” is playing in the car while we sing along, accentuating the Black Hills of South Dakota line and laughing as we both sing loudly and off-key.
After spending the day sightseeing with Alice, we decide t
o check into a rather rustic looking lodge that has some beautiful views of the mountains and Mt. Rushmore. Despite our earlier experience with rustic accommodations, this place is quite stunning. The view from our room is breathtaking and Alice spends at least an hour on the balcony taking pictures and later leaves to walk the grounds of the lodge with her camera.
I’m already in bed when Alice returns. The room is shrouded in darkness and the silence is nearly deafening. It drags on, as Alice says nothing to me, assuming I’m asleep. But there’s something about the silence that doesn’t feel right, almost tense or awkward.
She climbs into bed and a few seconds later she lets out a muffled sob. I can tell her face is pressed into the pillow, trying to hide the fact that she’s crying.
“Alice?” I ask, through the quiet and it seems to echo throughout the room. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says in a whisper, but I know she’s anything but okay.
“What’s going on? Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know,” she answers back, but this time her voice rings out clearly.
I let the silence wash back over us, not sure how to respond to her. There are so many things Alice could be upset over and I can’t even begin to rifle through them. I also don’t want to push her to share anything she doesn’t want to.
“Do you ever wonder if Mom dying fucked us up?” Alice asks as if the thought has been weighing heavy on her for years.
“No,” I answer back immediately with a firm tone and I can instantly tell I’ve upset Alice.
“You don’t wonder if she’s the reason you’re still searching for Elliot after all this time? Someone who could very well have forgotten all about you since he left you on that beach.”
“No, Alice,” I respond indignantly. “And I’m not going to let you blame Mom for your fucked up choices. That’s pretty fucking low of you.”
“I’m not blaming her and for you to sit there and act like what you’re doing isn’t totally fucked up is just as shitty,” Alice answers and now she’s purposely trying to be mean. “And all I was saying was that maybe I’m trying to replace something in my life that was lost. Trying to find something that makes me feel like I did when Mom was alive.” Alice lets out a stifled cry. “Thanks for making me feel like shit.”
I hear the rustling of sheets and I know Alice has turned away from me. She’s not going to make me feel sorry for her. She’s the one who brought it up, whether she meant it to sound accusing or not, that’s exactly how it came across.
“Grow up, Alice,” I shoot back. “Maybe you are trying to replace that feeling or whatever, but it doesn’t matter. Mom died years ago and you’re the one who ran off and decided not to grieve. Maybe if you had stuck around and dealt with your feelings back then, you’d be a productive adult.” My words come out in a rush and as soon as they leave my mouth, I regret them. They’re too harsh and it’s not my place to tell Alice how to live her life. While I don’t feel sorry for her, I don’t need to be spiteful.
“Fuck you, Nora,” Alice hisses and it’s probably deserved. “Stop acting like you’re better than me. You never grieved her either. You became obsessed with Elliot to avoid having to cope with life, too. Whether you want to admit it or not, that’s partially what this is about.”
“Fine, whatever you say, Alice,” I retort, annoyed and angry with her for thinking she has any idea why I do the things I do. She has never been interested in my life before and I don’t know why she wants to insert herself into it now.
I hear Alice sniffle and cry a few more times before I finally drift off to sleep and as much as I’d like to think Alice is wrong, there is some truth to her words. More than I care to admit out loud. I have been searching for something to ease the pain, something to make me remember what it’s like to feel, but I still haven’t found it and maybe I never will.
There can’t be only one person in the world that can make me remember what it feels like to fall in love, yet I’ve closed myself off to the opportunity of finding this person, allowing only Elliot to consume my heart. Dwelling on that missed chance twelve years ago has quite possibly made me miss all those other opportunities to find love with someone else.
The next morning we awake early and hit the road, this time bound for Astoria with only one stop along the way. It’s a straight shot and the second to last chance to find Elliot on this trip. Two days of awkward silence trapped in the car with Alice since neither of us has acknowledged our argument last night.
It’s at least four hours of utter silence before one of us speaks and all I say is, “I need to stop for gas.”
Alice says nothing, just looks over at me and returns to looking back out the window. Shit, she’s good at this. Alice has always been a champion grudge holder, and her fight with our father can contest to that. Five years is a long time to go without speaking to your family, but Alice managed to hold out.
I pull into the gas station and up to the pump. Turning off the car, I expect Alice to exit with me and while I pump gas I figured she’d head inside, but she stays in the car.
The pump stops and I finish everything off before opening the car door and asking if Alice wants anything from inside. She just shakes her head. The silence is really starting to get to me. And while Alice is a grudge holder, she hates awkward silences and this silence has moved well beyond awkward. I must have really pissed her off with what I said for her to hold out this long, and I begin to feel a little guilty.
I grab a few bottles of water and some candy, setting it all down on the counter, I pay for everything and head back to the car.
Alice is still staring out the window as if I didn’t just climb in next to her. I suck in a long breath and on the exhale I say, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” she says, but her tone is harsh.
“I’m sorry I upset you. I’m sorry I judged you and said the things I said. But even more, I’m sorry that I can’t admit you’re right.” I swallow back the tears that are threatening as Alice turns to face me. “A part of me is trying to replace something I lost, but I don’t want to admit that to myself because after this long, we should have both moved past it.” I scrub my hands over my face and let out a long slow breath. “But we haven’t,” I add quietly.
“I’m sorry, too” Alice adds and produces a broken smile. “I shouldn’t be trying to hurt you and I came along to help you, not make this whole thing more difficult.”
“It’s okay. I think we both have issues we need to work through. This trip might be just what we need to fix whatever in our life is broken.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Alice says sullenly. I think she feels like she’s beyond repair, and it’s now up to both of us to change the things that have controlled our past.
I smile at Alice and show her what I bought while I was in the gas station. Holding up a bag of wintergreen Canada mints and a bag of spice drops, a legitimate smile spreads across Alice’s face.
“Funeral parlor candy. Yes!” she yells sarcastically, as she claps her hands. “Fuck, I hope you at least bought something decent.”
“Of course I did,” I answer, showing her a king-sized Kit Kat along with a bag of peanut M&Ms and a package of vanilla Zingers.
Things begin to return to normal and even though neither of us talks about our fucked up life, we know it’s something we need to address. I think deep down, I’ve known this is probably the end for a while now, and it might be nice to have someone to discuss my feelings about it with. It might help to sort it all out through talking to Alice and maybe both of us will find some solace in the fact that we’ve both led a life that isn’t exactly normal.
We roll into Astoria around ten o’clock, check into the hotel and fall immediately asleep. These drives are always exhausting and this trip has been no different. It might even be more exhausting than usual, since Alice and I are both struggling to understand what is happening with our lives.
We’re both too old to be this lost and stupid. If anything
, each day that passes lets me know, I need to pull myself together and start a life for myself that doesn’t involve searching for Elliot.
Chapter Six
I’m already certain I’m heading to find someone that isn’t even the right person. After all this time, I just know and today is no exception. He fits the description, has lived in the San Diego area and moved to Oregon around the time that the Elliot I know would have graduated from college. The only problem is he has a job that really doesn’t allow me to find him easily. That’s the part that’s tripping me up. Without actually seeing him, I can’t be certain and there will always be that doubt in the back of my mind if I just let this one go without checking for myself.
He’s a commercial fisherman. Not exactly the type of job you go to college for or is it a job I see Elliot doing, but I can’t let it go.
I explain to Alice what we’ll need to do and she agrees. We decide to head to the shipping docks and see if anyone has seen the man we’re looking for. His name is Elliot McGunn and he works on a ship called the Crabby Queen.
This is right up Alice’s alley: a bunch of dirty seamen, some hot, but some just old and gross. Alice immediately gravitates toward a handsome guy with messy hair and chiseled features. He’s what you would call ruggedly handsome and exactly what Alice goes for.
Alice may be thirty-two years old, but she has the body of a twenty year old. She’s always been stunningly beautiful. Something I imagine has helped her through most of her life. And right now, it’s about to help me locate the latest Elliot prospect.
I stand back and watch Alice work her magic. Sidling up against this guy, who I would guess smells like a dirty fish market, yet she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s giggling and running her hand up and down his flannel-clad arm when she motions with her head for me to join them.
I walk over to where they’re standing on the dock, wondering just what she’s said to this guy, at the same time knowing she’s worked him over well enough that he can’t take his eyes off of her.