Once Upon A Road Trip

by Angela N. Blount

  Angie stifled a whimper, seeing no clear way to keep from humiliating herself. When they set off at a strolling pace she kept far to the right, praying she wouldn’t trip. The cement felt wrong under her feet, more like sifting sand than a solid surface. Scott noticed her irregular gait and slipped his arm around hers. She was as grateful not to have to ask for the assistance as she was to have a stable anchor.

  “Are you…tipsy?” Scott leaned aside, whispering in disbelief.

  “No!” she hissed. Revising her assessment, she frowned. “Maybe.”

  “Just take it easy,” he said, crooking his elbow in a genteel motion.

  Angie secured herself to his arm and allowed him to escort her along. Part of her expected Scott to deride her lack of discretion, but to her relief, he seemed more concerned than amused. They fell in line behind Shaun and Martha, pausing at storefronts as the older couple window-shopped. The night air was thick with humidity, though the temperature had eased and a light breeze carried through the streets. By the time they arrived back at the high-rise Angie had regained her poise, along with some of her dignity.

  “Can I come in for a while?” Scott asked, leaning his shoulder into the wall as he watched Angie unlock the door to the guest apartment.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she answered, palming the knob and pushing the door open a crack. In her mind, she’d made enough questionable decisions for one day.

  Scott folded his arms, looking offended. “Look, I know I’m not the greatest influence—”

  “I’m not blaming you for anything,” she said, sifting through her thoughts. She’d been trying to weigh her feelings ever since things between them became complicated. “I just think we need to be more careful and not spend so much time…alone.”

  “Don’t trust me?” His expression transitioned into something more wounded.

  “Right now, I don’t trust -me-,” Angie stressed. She averted her gaze for a long moment. “When we get too close, it’s like my brain switches off.”

  “Is that such a bad thing? You do kinda think too much.” Scott’s tone came out genial, though his smile bordered on smug. She hated how handsome it made him look.

  “It could be—” Angie began.

  Her breath caught when he stepped up to her, his face inclined mere inches from hers. Though he had completely invaded her personal space, it didn’t occur to her to take a step back.

  Seeming to interpret her lack of retreat as an invitation, Scott closed the remaining gap between them. His lips captured hers in a swift, sure movement. At once, she understood the friction that had grated between them throughout the day. Her palms lifted to his chest to push him away, but before she knew it, she’d forgotten why she placed them there.

  Independent of her intentions, her lips followed his lead. Some remote part of her mind registered the faint, acrimonious taste of cigarette smoke. Just as she’d gathered herself enough to create a pause, the kiss deepened. He pulled her tighter against him. Though there were no hands where they shouldn’t be, the demand she sensed was more dizzying than the wine.

  Somewhere down the hallway a door opened and closed as a tenant left their apartment. The sound was enough of a distraction for Angie to recover control and pull away. They stood in unsettled silence for a moment while an elderly woman scuttled past, her footsteps receding to the elevator. Angie groped for some way to transform the lingering tension.

  “I thought you were going to quit smoking,” she said, deliberately dredging up an old point of contention between them.

  Scott shrugged. “I’ve been trying. Stress makes the cravings worse, ya know.” He leveled his gaze on her.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down toward the elevator to avoid his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in a few days.”

  “Yeah, about that—I’ve been thinking.” He raked his fingers back through his espresso mane, clearing a few stray locks from his eyes. “You know, you could just stay here for an extra week or two if you wanted. My dad wouldn’t care, I already asked him—”

  “No, I need to keep going.” She cut him off, gently. “I live over a thousand miles away from you, Scott. It just wouldn’t work out. We shouldn’t be pretending like we can be more than friends.”

  “But what if we could be?” Scott spoke with enough earnest emotion to stun her into silence. “If we both wanted it bad enough, we could make it work. I know it’d be hard, but I mean—” His voice lowered and then faltered as he locked eyes with her. “I think…I might be in love with you. And I know you at least feel -something- for me, or you wouldn’t kiss me back like that.”

  Angie shook her head, feeling a deep sense of panic clawing up from her stomach. “No, no you’re not. You shouldn’t throw that word around.” She found herself arguing, voice strained. “I know there’s this crazy...pull...between us, and I don’t understand it. But I care about you too much to jump into something.”

  Scott opened his mouth and then closed it, looking confounded by her reaction. “So, you think we should slow down?” he said at last.

  “I think we should stop and back up,” she clarified. “I don’t think we’ve been thinking straight.”

  Scott lowered his head, leaning his shoulder into the wall beside her door. “I guess you’re right,” he agreed, working his jaw side to side.

  Angie sighed inwardly as she watched him. Better to hurt him a little now than a lot later on. “I need you to do me a favor.”

  “Anything you want.” Scott answered without hesitation, though his voice was glum.

  “Could you give me the day to myself tomorrow? I need some time to think.”

  Scott nodded. “No problem. I guess it wouldn’t be a bad idea if I took some time, too.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” She wanted to touch his arm — offer some light and reassuring gesture. But instead, she stepped into the apartment and began to ease the door closed between them. More than anything she wanted clarity. And she knew the more distance there was between them, the clearer her thoughts would be.

  “At least now I know it wasn’t all one-sided,” Scott said, unmoving as he watched her.

  She paused, leaving the door cracked several inches. “What wasn’t?”

  The left corner of his mouth quirked upward. “You—making me crazy.” He rocked away from the wall and started down the hall.

  “Good night, Scott,” Angie murmured after him.

  Angeli drifted across the apartment, kicking off her shoes as she went. She pushed her way into the bathroom and surveyed the white marble-topped vanity. Deciding it was sturdy enough, she hopped up to sit with her feet in the sink, curling her arms around her knees as she stared into the mirror at her own serious eyes. Her way of peering into her soul.

  She could remember doing this often when she was a small child, finding solace in focusing on her reflection as it appeared against the sheen of her muddled brown irises. The habit had led to the discovery that her eyes would become hazel when she was in a brooding mood. She’d even known them to turn bright green on the occasions she’d been upset enough to have a good cry. Eventually looking up this phenomenon, she’d found it had something to do with stress and blood pressure. She couldn’t recall the exact explanation, only that it had eased her concerns at the time.

  For the moment, her eyes shown hazel as they stared back at her — and with good reason. This thing with Scott was causing her strain, and she still didn’t know how she should feel about him.

  Alright, soul. What’s your problem?

  The logical part of her mind wanted to give a relationship with Scott a chance. After all, he was available, open to faith, chaste, undeniably good-looking, and definitely interested in her. She’d never before come across such a promising combination of attributes. And she never would again, for all she knew. Yet, she couldn’t shake the sense that it wasn’t enough.

  Greedy greedy makes a lonely girl, she mused.

  Rubbing at her eyes in
weary resignation, Angie cut her introspection short by pivoting and sliding off the vanity. She decided she would catch up on some much needed sleep and make a few phone calls in the morning. One thing she was sure of, at least — tonight wasn’t the time to make any important decisions.

  Chapter 15

  “Here, Martha wanted to make sure you got something to eat,” Scott said, thrusting a deli box at Angie as he stepped into the apartment. His gaze shifted restlessly as he edged around her and moved to the pool table, busying himself with chalking the end of a stick.

  “That was sweet of her.” Angie passed the pool table and moved to sit in the back window sill, while there was still ample sunlight. “I went out and found my own food just fine yesterday, though. I could have managed again.” She noted when she neared, Scott stepped back to give her clearance. The distance he was keeping was a stark contrast to the first few days of her visit. So much so that she felt compelled to ask, “Are you mad at me, now?”

  Scott’s head snapped up as he pulled his attention away from the ball return. “Mad? No. Why would I be?”

  Angie shrugged a shoulder, using her lap for a table as she unwrapped a generous club sandwich. “You’re acting weird.”

  “I’m just…tryin’ to back off, like you wanted. Tessa should be over in a few minutes to hang out, so we won’t be alone. I’ve told you about her before—”

  “Right, the girl from Vermont. Parents divorced last year, and she’s living with her lawyer dad who completely ignores her?” She recalled the most immediate information she tied to the name. Scott had often described Tessa as his closest female friend, and a point of concern to him when it came to her partying habits.

  He smirked. “That’s the one.”

  “Good. I’d like to meet her.”

  “Just remember she’s a little…different.” He hesitated. “Don’t say anything about it.”

  Angie shot him a vexed glare. “Scott, remember Elise has been my best friend for years? I’m good with different.” Takes one to know one.

  “Yeah, okay. I guess you’ve got a point.” Scott tipped his head down in a low chuckle. He had a more stoic expression when he looked her way again. “So, did you get in all the thinking you needed?”

  Angie swallowed a bite of sandwich. “Some,” she answered tenuously. “I still need to talk to my mom. She wasn’t home when I called.”

  Scott set out the triangular rack and occupied himself with placing six billiard balls into one corner of it. “I called my mom this morning and told her about you,” he said. “She’s usually pretty good with advice.”

  Angie looked up in surprise. “What did she say?”

  Scott set out the cue ball and eased around the table, delaying his answer as he sized up angles with the pool stick. “She said…I should quit touching you. She thinks that would make it easier on both of us.” His voice rang with conflict.

  Angie released a burst of relieved laughter before she could catch herself. When Scott looked up at her in confusion, she quickly offered, “I think that’s -great- advice. Your mother is obviously a smart woman.” Watching him nod in reluctant agreement, she opted to steer the topic. “I’m glad you’re close enough to her that you can talk about things like this. I didn’t think most guys talk to their moms.”

  “Well, who else am I gonna talk to?” He finally committed to a forceful break. The balls ricocheted around the table, none finding a pocket.

  “I don’t know—your stepmom is pretty nice,” Angie said, knowing better than to suggest his father. “I can tell she cares about you.”

  “She’s alright,” he said, begrudgingly.

  “She’s not quite what I was expecting,” Angie admitted. “After the way you talk about your dad sometimes, I mean.”

  “What were you expecting?”

  She considered for a brief moment. “I don’t know... some young, gorgeous, high-maintenance trophy wife?”

  “That was his second wife...the one he left my mom for.” Scott’s tone darkened. “I’m pretty sure the third and fourth wives were on the rebound. They only lasted a few months each.”

  Angie sensed she was treading into an emotional minefield, but it only slowed her approach. “Is that why you’re so angry at your dad all the time?”

  Scott straightened up. His eyes were fixed on the cue ball, but she could still read contempt behind them. “You know, when my parents first split custody and my dad made it big, he used to try to buy us off. He’d take us along on his overseas trips—like that made up for what he did or something.” Scott sneered. “He took me to England with him once, just after he met Martha. One night there, he told me he was sorry for everything. First time in ten years I ever heard him say sorry to anybody.” He shook his head, as if still in disbelief.

  Angie crumpled up the sandwich wrapper and pivoted to face him, maintaining her position on the sunny ledge. He’d earned her undivided attention. “And what did you say?”

  “I told him he was a selfish prick, and sorry didn’t change that.” Scott all but snarled. “I told him how I had to listen every night while Mom cried herself to sleep. How much she changed after he left, and what the depression did to her...” His grip on the pool stick tightened until his knuckles blanched. Then he lifted his chin, projecting some combination of pride and anger. “I told him I’d never forgive him for what he did.”

  “How can you say that? Like, you think it’s noble of you to hate your own father—” Angie exclaimed, before tempering her reaction. “If you won’t forgive someone in your own family, are you going to go around holding a grudge against everybody that hurts you somehow?”

  Like against me, for instance?

  A raw look of bewilderment flash across Scott’s face. “It wasn’t just me he hurt—that bastard tore our family apart!” Scott recovered from his shock with a fit of righteous indignation. “He just about killed my mom from the inside out. He deserves to be more than sorry! You think I’m supposed to just let him off the hook?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Angie answered, finding her tone had calmed as incrementally as his had become hostile. “And not for your dad’s sake, for yours.” She paused. “Besides that, I know for a fact that God doesn’t want us hating -anybody-.”

  “If you’re gonna preach, save some for him—cuz I know it’s gotta be a sin to cheat on your wife and abandon your kids,” Scott growled back, dropping the pool stick onto the table in a clatter of disregard.

  “That isn’t the point, Scott.” Angie wavered, unsure if his temper would allow him to process anything she was saying. He was worked up enough that, were their places reversed, she couldn’t see herself being receptive. She waited, watching as he half-circled the table back and forth several times, pacing. “You know the saying about how bitterness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die?”

  Scott paused to look at her. “No.”

  “Oh.” Angie’s line of thought faltered. “Well, it’s true, anyway. You’re causing yourself a lot more harm than you’re causing your dad. You need to forgive him.”

  “At least it’s doing him -some- damage. Karma sure hasn’t kicked in otherwise.” Scott looked away, defiant. “If God doesn’t like it, then he shoulda brought down some justice a long time ago.”

  Angie lowered her head in exasperation. She felt repulsed by Scott’s demeanor, which now stood in brutal disparity to some of her recent feelings for him. “You need to rethink this vindictive thing, Scott. It’s not healthy—and it’s really ugly on you.”

  A rapping sound came from the front of the apartment and Angie rose to answer the door. She passed Scott on her way and he moved aside, rubbing the dark scruff along his jaw in sulking silence. She pretended not to notice his mood, turning her focus to the new arrival.

  Standing no more than five feet in height, the lithe girl on the other side struck up a radiant smile. “You must be Angeli?” she said, offering out a dainty hand — the arm it was attached to clinked with countless plast
ic bangles. “Tessa.” She brought her free hand up to splay against her own shoulder, indicatively. Her left arm was equally stacked with multicolored bracelets.

  Angie shook the offered hand and motioned for her to enter. “That’s me. Good to finally meet you,” she said, concealing her surprise. After Scott’s vague cautioning, she hadn’t been sure what to expect.

  Tessa was somewhat pale in complexion, with small features that Angie saw as fragile and lovely. Her large, pale-blue eyes adopted a lavender hue thanks to expertly placed eye makeup and the vivid amethyst hair she wore in a face-framing bob. Six silver rings lined the cartilage of her right ear, with the same number of silver studs filling out the left. She wore a close-fitted pair of glossy black pants, while her slender form failed to fill out the tattered band T-shirt that draped her shoulders. Tessa’s uniqueness was stunning, and Angie was fascinated.

  “Hey,” Scott greeted. The fire in him seemed to die down. He sat cross-legged atop the pool table, sifting through a deck of cards.

  “I hope we’re not playing for cash.” Tessa’s voice came out light and brisk. She looked over her shoulder to Angie with a mischievous smile. “The guys are no good with odds—or at reading women. I always clean them out on poker night.”

  “That won’t be happening.” Scott held up the back of the deck to display the name, and then continued his complicated shuffling routine. “We’re playing Uno. And I’m the grand master of Uno.”

  Tessa cast Angie a sly smile. “Aww, he’s showing off.” She bent to remove a pair of studded leather boots and hopped up onto the pool table opposite Scott. “You’re from Minnesota, right?” she directed to Angie. “Isn’t that the state with the governor who used to be a wrestler?”

  “Yep, that’s us.” Angie chuckled, placing herself at the end of the table facing both of them. Scott seemed to be putting a great deal of effort into not looking at her, and so she gladly continued to give Tessa her full attention.

  “I liked that guy. He finally made politics interesting.” Tessa nodded in approval. “I read that interview where he said that ‘religion is a crutch for the weak-minded…’ Good stuff.”