Painless

by S. A. Harazin

  The waitress watches, but she doesn’t say anything. He goes back outside, gives part of the food to the dog, and starts eating the rest. I get up, go outside, and hand him a few dollars.

  “Thanks,” he says. He has a sign with “Dosta” written on it.

  “Where’s Dosta?” I ask.

  “A couple of hours northwest.”

  I go back inside.

  “You gave him money?” Luna says.

  I nod. “He needs a ride to Dosta,” I say.

  “You offered?”

  “No. We’re not going his way.”

  “Have you ever picked up a hitchhiker?” she asks, watching out the window.

  I don’t look. I don’t like seeing sad stuff. “No. Have you?”

  “No,” she says.

  “It’s out of the way,” I say. It’s a dumb thing to do. I’d probably give him a ride if Luna wasn’t with me.

  We buy T-shirts and pay the cashier. I leave the waitress a nice tip only because if I had her job, I’d like to get a nice tip as a surprise. Besides, it makes me happy.

  I pull onto the road and avoid looking in the guy’s direction. He could be a thief or a killer or just somebody with a dog. He can’t take a bus when he has a dog, but I bet that dog has mange or something.

  I pull onto the interstate. Luna’s reading, and I’m thinking how miserable the skinny dog looked. Probably still starving. It’s not his fault he’s on the side of the road with a guy who’s a loser. I’m not going to think about the guy and the dog.

  Here’s what’s going to happen when I go to my mother’s wedding.

  I’ll watch her go down the aisle. She’ll be looking at people and smiling. She’ll see me and smile the same as she does for everybody else.

  Because she’s not going to freakin’ recognize me.

  Then at the reception she’ll say hello quickly. Maybe she’ll give me a hug and get back to greeting. After all, she’s the star, and I have to be prepared for this. I should not expect more, but I’m hoping I have a minute to ask her about my dad.

  It’s drizzling rain. The windshield wipers make a fast whack, whack, whack, and I turn the switch to the low speed. The whacking isn’t as bad. I bet the dog and the guy are soaking wet by now.

  I see the next exit, and I don’t know what comes over me. I move into that lane, stop at the red light, and then turn left. I see the sign for the interstate heading south. I make the left turn, and pretty soon I’m headed in the other direction.

  “Are we lost?” Luna asks, sitting up straight.

  “We’re going back,” I say, and the speedometer climbs to seventy.

  Chapter 32

  “Why?” Luna asks.

  “Because I have to.”

  “I’m tired,” she says.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I take the exit to the truck stop and slow as I near the corner. I don’t see the guy and his skinny dog.

  “I thought you meant we were going home,” Luna says, leaning forward. “He’s on the next corner.”

  “You’re okay with this?” I ask.

  “It’s your random act of kindness,” Luna says. “And it’s what I love about you.”

  I laugh. I don’t think she means it the way I want her to mean it.

  “And I have mace if he turns out to be a psycho,” she says.

  I pull into the drive and stop near the gas pumps under the covering. I take a beach towel out of my backpack and cover the backseat with it.

  “Hey,” I call to the guy. “Hey!”

  He turns, looks in my direction, and takes off running toward me. My heart speeds up.

  He smiles wide. “Thanks. My name is Eric.”

  “Hello,” I say with caution.

  “Where you headed?”

  I tell him.

  “Great,” he says. “Just stay on the interstate and you can drop me off at my exit. That way you won’t be going out of the way.” He climbs into the backseat with his dog.

  I take a deep breath and head back to the highway.

  “What’s your dog’s name?” Luna asks.

  “She doesn’t have a name. She’s a stray,” Eric says. “I found her on the side of the highway a couple of days ago. She has a tag on the collar, but the phone number on it had been disconnected.”

  I decide Eric’s okay. “Somebody dumped her,” I say.

  “Probably. I had her scanned for a microchip, but she didn’t have one.”

  “So what’s in Dosta?” Luna asks.

  “I grew up there. I haven’t been home for five years,” he says. “I’ve been hitchhiking for ten days, but hardly anybody’ll pick up a hitchhiker these days.”

  “So one day you decided to go for a visit, packed a bag, and ended up standing on the side of a highway?” I ask, glancing at him through my rearview mirror.

  “My mother had a stroke, and I was short on money, so I decided to hitchhike. I didn’t want my parents to think I was a loser by asking for money.” He leans forward and tries to return the money I gave him.

  “Keep it,” I say.

  “Give me your address, and I’ll pay you back and send gas money.”

  “Do they know you’re coming?” I ask.

  “I’m going to surprise them.”

  “My parents had a fit the first time they visited me after

  I moved out. They tried to force me to come home,” Luna says.

  I think her parents have finally won that argument.

  “My guardian tried to force me to move into an apartment where I’d be supervised,” I say, sounding lame.

  “David has a rare disease hardly anybody has heard of,” Luna says.

  “He looks like he knows what he’s doing. Are you two running away?”

  “Yeah,” Luna says. “For a few days. I have to be on a flight by Tuesday morning.”

  I don’t want to think about then.

  “Last weekend together?” Eric says.

  “Yes,” Luna says. “We’ll probably go to the beach.”

  “I slept on the beach a few times,” Eric says.

  “You were homeless?” I ask.

  “I was a Boy Scout.”

  “I was a Girl Scout,” Luna says. “It was too much like school, and I was always hoping it would get better. Once we went to a cave in Tennessee. We had to crawl through an opening to a large area, but the leader got stuck. I didn’t think we’d ever get her out. Then we slept in our sleeping bags all night. The next morning we went home. The most exciting thing that happened was when the leader got stuck.”

  “I like to be spontaneous,” Eric says. “And not have to follow somebody else’s schedule.”

  “This trip was a last-minute decision,” Luna says.

  Not really. I’ve been thinking about a trip for days, and I’ve been dreaming of meeting my parents for years.

  “Glad you decided to go,” Eric says. “Or I’d still be standing on the corner begging for a ride.”

  “We almost didn’t stop,” Luna says.

  “My parents would thank you too,” Eric says.

  “You’re going too fast,” Luna says to me.

  I glance at the speedometer. “I’m not speeding,” I say.

  Eric leans forward. “My exit’s coming up soon,” he says. “I can walk the rest of the way.”

  “No problem,” I say.

  We drive him all the way home. It’s a small ranch-style house in an older neighborhood.

  “Give me your address,” he reminds me.

  I tell him.

  He climbs out of the car, the dog behind him. I roll down my window.

  “Good luck,” I say. I’ve always hating saying good-bye, even to someone I only knew for a couple of hours.

  “Thanks again,” he says and heads toward
the house with the dog.

  I watch for a minute, kind of hoping to see his mother’s face when she sees him. The front door opens, somebody hugs him, and he turns and waves to us. He goes inside. I hope he and his dog will be okay.

  “I like watching people,” I tell Luna. “And wondering what their life is like. When I first saw him on the corner, I thought he was a drug addict or a bum.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “He had given his food to the dog, and I kept thinking about him.”

  “One time I was walking along the side of the road with a friend, and we saw a dog lying in a ditch. I remember how he lifted his head and looked at us. I planned to go back and check on him, but I forgot about him until the next day. I went back, but he was gone.”

  “Somebody else helped him,” I say.

  “Hopefully. He could’ve crawled away somewhere.”

  “And then somebody helped him.”

  “But I’ve felt guilty about that,” she says. “Whenever I’ve seen a needy dog.”

  “We’re almost at the exit to the hotel,” I tell Luna.

  “I almost didn’t call you,” she says. “I almost didn’t get out of the cab, but when I saw your head on the steering wheel, I had to.”

  “I almost decided not to take this trip,” I say.

  “I would’ve been at my parents’ house by now. We’d be sitting on the sofa watching TV.”

  “I would’ve been at home, but I don’t know what I’d be doing.”

  “Alone?” Luna says.

  “Spencer and Cameron come over sometimes. It’s always been kind of lonely at my house, especially after my grandmother became sicker.”

  I exit the interstate and then Luna gives me directions to the hotel. A few minutes later I pull into the parking lot. It’s hard for me to believe I’ve made it this far.

  It’s hard for me to believe Luna is with me. I keep thinking any minute now I’m going to wake up inside my empty house. In less than twenty-four hours I’ll be seeing my mother, and maybe just once, life will be fair and I’ll find my dad. I’m not asking for much. I’m not asking for instant love.

  I turn off the motor.

  Luna sits straight up in the seat. “What do you think?”

  “It’s nice.”

  Luna gets her dress from the trunk. I carry our bags.

  We enter a huge lobby and step up to the desk. I’m worried we’ll have problems because of my age, but we don’t. Luna only has to show the confirmation info on her phone.

  Our rooms are next to each other. I watch her unlock her door with the plastic card so I’ll know how. I get this image of me standing behind a man, and he’s unlocking a door. It’s something I had forgotten until now. I try to remember more, but I can only see that one image in my head. I concentrate harder trying to figure out who the man was, but I only see the back of his head. His hair was black like my dad’s.

  I go inside with her and place her bag on a luggage table or whatever it’s called. The bed has a bunch of pillows on it, and a big-screen TV welcomes us. A sliding door spans one wall. I open it and step onto the balcony. It overlooks an outdoor area, where people sit at tables eating and drinking. Lanterns hang from trees. It’s almost what I imagine a Caribbean paradise would be like.

  I check my watch. We’ve been riding for over eight hours, but the travel was worth it to make it here.

  “This is heavenly,” Luna says. “Want to have dinner in the courtyard?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “You know what we should do? Dress up. I’ll wear the black dress.”

  “I don’t know,” I say. The people in the courtyard are dressed casually.

  “Nobody knows us here,” she says. “Anyway, I want to wear the dress more than once.”

  “The thing is,” I say. “I can wear a shirt and tie, but I probably shouldn’t wear a jacket.”

  “Heatstroke?” she says.

  “Yep.”

  Coma or death by jacket.

  “Bring it with you and wear it for our pictures,” she says.

  Luna comes out of her room. She’s wearing the black dress. It fits snugly, and it’s revealing. The top of her breasts are visible. The hem of the dress hits mid-thigh, and the heels make her legs look longer. I think I’m in heaven.

  “You look terrific,” I say. I’m wearing a lavender shirt, black tie, and black pants.

  “You smell terrific,” she says.

  I’m wearing the cologne for guys with their heads in the stars and feet planted on the ground, but tonight it’s like I’m walking on a cloud.

  We ride the elevator down and find the sign for Dinner under the Moon. Then we follow a hostess, and I feel like everybody’s watching us. It’s kind of like we’ve sneaked into a place where we don’t belong, and it feels like we aren’t us anymore. We sit at a table with a white tablecloth and upside-down glasses. When the hostess gives us menus, Luna takes a quick look and asks for a dessert menu. She says that tonight she’s only having desserts. I swear Luna’s glowing in the candlelight. The moon and stars are shining, music’s playing, and a breeze is blowing. I can smell the flowers on the bushes along the sides of the courtyard.

  After we order desserts, Luna says, “We have to memorialize our road trip. Pull your chair next to mine.”

  She takes a picture of us sitting at the table. I take a picture of us standing in front of blooming gardenias, and then she takes a picture of me. I take one of her.

  Then the waiter brings our desserts.

  First I taste the chocolate layered cake and then the strawberries ’n cream. They’re like nothing I’ve ever tasted.

  “I need to tell you something,” Luna says.

  I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “Don’t tell me you need to take my blood pressure,” I say.

  Looking down, she smiles. “It was terrible of me to dump you that night we were going to have pizza.” She takes a bite of cake and swallows. “But after I saw Derrick, I came back to your house. The lights were off so I left.”

  “You should’ve called,” I say.

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  My heart’s in my throat.

  “And then I wanted to go on the road trip with you and do something neither of us had done before.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? It sucks when you’re facing your mortality.” She rakes up cake crumbs with her fork. “I guess you’ve been doing that for most of your life, but when you think about it, everybody is.”

  I meet her eyes. I don’t know what she’s talking about.

  “Did I ever tell you I missed my senior prom?” she asks.

  “No.”

  “I’d bought a long dress and everything, but then I didn’t feel like going. Now it feels like I missed a milestone. Milestones are important.”

  “I’ve never been to a prom, and I don’t feel like I missed a milestone,” I say. “Milestones to me are graduating from high school and college, falling in love, starting a career, and maybe buying a house.” I shrug. “I don’t need a house so that doesn’t count.”

  “Moving into your first apartment will count. Starting your first job. Getting a driver’s license.” She takes another bite of the cake. “You’ve done both of those.”

  “Going on a road trip with you,” I say.

  “Sex for the first time. Surviving a fatal disease.”

  “Weird that you think of those at the same time.”

  “Saying good-bye.” Luna taps her glass. “Losing somebody you care about.”

  I know. “Realizing you aren’t the only one with problems,” I say.

  “Helping Eric make it home,” Luna says.

  I smile at her.

  We spend the rest of the evening listing the milestones of a lifetime.

&nb
sp; Chapter 33

  I awaken at six a.m., coughing and tasting blood. I hurry into the bathroom and see blood on my mouth where I’ve bitten my tongue and lips. I’m pretty sure it’s because during the night I dreamed about my mother over and over again. I was a little kid, and she was driving me somewhere. When she looked at me, she didn’t have a face, and I jumped out of the car and ran away.

  She’d probably have a face if I remembered what she looked like.

  It’s a good thing Luna wasn’t here to wake up and see the blood on my face. She would have screamed.

  I wash my face, brush my teeth, and turn on the TV. I pick up my cell phone and check for calls I could’ve missed, but there aren’t any. Joe doesn’t know I’ve left yet. He’s going to cause trouble when I return if he finds out, especially if the trip turns out badly. That will only convince him to put me where somebody else can deal with my problems. I tell myself that nothing bad is going to happen. Nothing can go wrong. I will be careful like always.

  I wonder if he knows I went to Ruby’s house. She acts like I should never have been born. I probably wouldn’t have been, if genetic testing had existed for CIPA. I don’t know if it does now or not. Joe didn’t want my grandparents to adopt me because I’d be too much trouble.

  I feel like I have fruit flies flying around in my stomach.

  I step outside the sliding glass door. It’s cloudy, and I can see the courtyard below where the waiters are setting up the breakfast buffet. Then I go inside, call Luna, and tell her about the breakfast buffet.

  “I have a headache,” she says. “Probably from all the sugar last night. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I think she’s tired of me. Last night after we finished talking, I walked her to her room and she yawned. She said good night. That’s all that happened.

  I shower and dress. Sitting at the desk, I look at the four maps with directions I printed as I was packing. I pick up the directions to my mother’s home address on the wedding invitation. I printed them out just in case I’m invited for a visit.

  But Luna has to be back before Tuesday, and I promised she would be, so I don’t have time to go to my mom’s.

  Chances are, I won’t be coming back here. Meeting my mom at the wedding or reception with hundreds of people around doesn’t feel like a good idea anymore.