by Randy Ribay
“Okay. Be right down,” Sarah says.
“And, Sam, if you’re ever in Seattle, you’re more than welcome to stay with us.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hall,” Sam says.
Mr. Hall leaves.
Sam and Sarah stand.
They wrap their arms around each other. They stay like that for a while, but not long enough for Sam.
“I’ll always love you, Sam,” she says.
“This proves otherwise,” he says.
The Party, Gathered
Colossally Stupid
Friday, 11:53 P.M.
Sam closes the door and then pauses for a moment, holding his breath. He listens until he is certain that he did not wake his family, and then he turns his back to his house. He wishes that he would have said goodbye to Grace. He has no way of knowing when he’ll see her again.
Street lights illuminate patches of the sidewalk as he passes his neighbors’ houses, their windows all dark. He wonders about each of them. He wonders if they are sleeping, and if they are sleeping, what they are dreaming. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. And then another dog barks somewhere else.
He rounds the corner and spots the car. Its headlights flash twice. He nods.
As Sam approaches, he sees Mari behind the wheel, Dante in the front, and Archie in the back. Sam waves as he passes in front of the headlights, and the trunk pops open. He drops his bags inside and then climbs into the back seat next to Archie.
“The band is back together,” Archie says, patting Sam on the back.
Nobody laughs.
“Thanks again, guys,” Sam says, as Mari pulls away from the curb. “It means a lot that you’d come with me.”
“It beats moving in with my father,” Archie says.
“Or working at McCluck’s,” Dante says.
“Or my mom bugging me about . . .” Mari starts, but doesn’t finish. “Anyways, everyone knows this is colossally stupid, right?” Nobody responds. “And you all know we’re going to get in major trouble?”
“By the time they find out, we’ll be long gone,” says Sam.
Archie double-checks his seatbelt. “We’ve never gotten in any real trouble before, so how mad can our parents get?”
Dante takes a deep breath.
“Just think of it like a quest,” Archie continues. “But in real life. We need the experience points.”
Mari shifts the car into gear. “Seattle, here we come.”
Through the Night
Saturday, 3:01 A.M.
Archie examines his cheek in the dirty mirror. The rest stop bathroom’s pallid lighting doesn’t reveal much. “I think my beard’s finally coming in.”
Dante chuckles as he flushes and then joins Archie at the sinks. He waves his hand under the automatic sensor, but nothing happens. He tries the next one, but again nothing.
“You can use this one,” Archie says, moving over. “I’m done.”
“Thanks.”
“So I’m surprised you came along, big guy,” Archie says. “They let you take off work like that?”
Dante shrugs. “Hey, Arch, can I ask you something about your dad?”
Archie punches the large metallic button and the roar of the hand dryer drowns out Dante. He walks out before the machine stops. He agreed to come to get away from his dad.
And to spend time with Mari. He just hoped she’d forgive him for last night. Whatever it was he had done wrong.
Archie surveys the parking lot on his way back to the car. There are only a few vehicles, most of which seem as if they’re settled in for the night. A middle-aged woman examines her choices in the outdoor vending machines. A lamp flickers overhead.
“I don’t know if anyone’s told you,” Archie says, arriving at the car where Sam leans against the hood smoking, “but those things’ll kill you.”
Sam responds by trying to exhale a ring of smoke but fails. He coughs. “Want one? You won’t look as nerdy anymore.”
“No, thanks,” Archie says, joining Sam on the hood. He looks toward the restrooms while waiting for Mari to appear. “So you actually think this will work? You think you’ll get Sarah back?”
“Maybe,” Sam says. “She said it was because she couldn’t do distance.”
“So, what? You planning on living there?”
Sam takes a drag from his cigarette. “Maybe. I’m eighteen.”
“What if that’s not the real reason she dumped you?” Archie asks.
“What do you mean?” Sam says.
“I mean, what if she didn’t break up with you because she’s moving, but because she just didn’t want to date you anymore?”
“Fuck you,” Sam says.
“No offense,” Archie says, holding up his hands defensively. “But for real, I’m just trying to think through this logically. I think sometimes people are too afraid to do what they know they need to do. They wait for something to let them off the hook. Maybe for her, moving provided a convenient excuse.”
“Like I said: Fuck you.”
Archie shrugs. “Whether you get her back or not, you owe us.”
“Why? You chose to come. Everyone did.”
Archie can’t really argue with that. He lifts his eyes to the night sky. It must be overcast because there are neither stars nor a moon.
A few moments later, Dante returns, followed by Mari. The four stand in a circle, each waiting for someone else to say something.
Sam puts out his cigarette against the rusty hood of Mari’s car and then flicks away the butt. She glares at him, but he ignores it.
“We’re making pretty good time,” he says. “Already halfway across Pennsylvania. Should make it late Sunday or early Monday if we drive straight through the night.”
“Well, I need to rest,” Mari says. “So you want to drive next?” She holds out the keys.
“No, thanks,” Sam says.
“It’s your freaking girlfriend we’re going to see,” Mari says.
“Ex,” Archie says. “His ex-girlfriend.”
Sam ignores Archie. “I’m paying for all the gas.”
“Yeah, with your dad’s credit card,” says Archie.
Sam turns to him. “What are you contributing, Arch?”
“My delightful presence.” He smiles.
“You should help drive.”
“Never got my license, remember?”
Sam lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, yeah. Mommy and Daddy drive you everywhere.”
“Here.” Dante holds out his hand for the keys. “Let’s just go.”
Mari drops them into his palm. “Yes, please.”
Archie flashes a victorious smile at Sam.
Onward to Discover
Saturday, 6:58 A.M.
Mari wakes at the sudden jarring sound of the tires hitting the rumble strip. She feels the car slowing, and when she opens her eyes, Dante is pulling over onto the shoulder. Other cars continue rushing past.
“Why are we stopping?” she asks. “We get pulled over?”
Sam and Archie, also awake now, look through the back window. There is no cop car, only the unrelenting flow of traffic. The sun has just barely risen, hanging just above the highway behind them.
“Look,” Dante says. He kills the engine and tilts his chin toward a white, rectangular sign about thirty or forty feet in front of them.
Welcome To Ohio, it says. So Much To Discover!
“I thought it’d be bigger,” Mari says.
“That’s what she said,” Archie says.
He looks to see if she smiles. She does not.
“Why are we wasting time?” Sam asks, his mouth sour from sleep.
“If we turn around now,” Dante says, “we can be back home in time to say that we went out together for a late breakfast or lunch or something. None of us would get in trouble.”
“Is that what you want?” Mari asks.
“We’re wasting time,” says Sam. “Keep driving.”
“I’m already in trouble, so it doesn’t make muc
h difference to me,” Dante says.
“For what?” Archie asks. A semi-truck whizzes by in the right lane, causing their car to sway. Dante just shakes his head.
“Out with it, big guy,” Archie says.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I just want to make sure everyone’s okay with doing this.”
“Yes. Now let’s go,” Sam says.
Archie removes his glasses, fogs the lenses with his breath, and then wipes them with his shirt. “Well, everyone knows I’m more than happy to peace out for a few days.”
Dante notices Mari hasn’t said anything. “Mari?”
She looks out the window at the trees. She thinks. About their leaves. About the unread letter pressed into her notebook. About a tumor lurking within her mother. About Archie. “I’m cool with it. Need some inspiration. I’ve come down with a little case of writer’s block.”
Sam says, “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Dante says. “Everyone should call home first. Tell them where we’ve gone.”
“That’s fucking stupid,” Sam says. “You’re getting into trouble wrong.”
“No, Dante’s right,” Archie says. “What do you think your parents will do when they can’t find you?”
“They won’t even notice I’m gone,” Sam says.
“Fine,” Archie says. “But what do you think my parents will do? Or Mari’s? Or Dante’s grandparents?”
Sam relents. “They’ll call.”
“And if we don’t answer? If we don’t notify them of our impromptu cross-country journey?” Archie asks.
“Then they’ll call the police and report you missing,” Sam mumbles.
Archie pats Sam on the head. “If I had a gold star, it’d be all yours, buddy.”
Sam pulls out his phone. “I’ll just text.”
The others grab their phones, take a collective deep breath, and call.
“. . . yes, Mom, I’m fine.”
“. . . going to Seattle . . .”
“. . . because Sam needs to . . .”
“. . . we’re his friends . . .”
“. . . should be back in a few days . . .”
“. . . I know . . .”
“. . . I’m sorry . . .”
“. . . no . . .”
“. . . not going to turn around . . .”
“. . . I know . . .”
“. . . sorry . . .”
“. . . it won’t hurt my GPA . . .”
“. . . not learning anything real yet . . .”
“. . . call every day . . .”
“. . . fine . . .”
“. . . how about one month . . .”
“. . . that’s fair . . .”
“. . . yeah, okay . . .”
“. . . I love you, too . . .”
“. . . love you . . .”
“. . . I’m sorry . . .”
The calls end at nearly the same time, like rain stopping all at once. Mari, Archie, and Dante hang their heads, contrite but relieved, ready but disbelieving.
“You guys should have texted,” Sam says. His phone starts to vibrate with a call. He turns it off.
“Maybe we should change seats. Sam can move up front, and Mari can come back here with me,” Archie says.
Dante looks at Mari.
“I’m good,” she says, stretching out her legs.
Dante restarts the engine. He waits for an opening in the traffic and then pulls back onto the highway, onward to discover.
What You Think Matters
Saturday, 9:43 A.M.
Archie squints, gripping the steering wheel like it might fly away. He guides the car past hilly farmland dotted with grazing cows beneath clouds that stretch across the sky like cotton pulled thin. Country music plays on the radio. He’d change the station, but it’s all country.
Also, he’s afraid to take even one hand off the wheel.
“Why do I keep swerving?” he asks.
“You’re trying too hard. Just relax. Keep your eyes fixed on where you want to go, not where you are,” Mari advises from the passenger seat. “And keep your speed up.”
Archie relaxes a bit too much and drifts into the adjacent lane. A driver blares his car horn as he accelerates past them.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” Dante says, crammed into the seat behind Mari.
“Is the engine supposed to be making that sound?” Archie asks. “It’s like a gerbil suffering a slow, painful death.”
Mari laughs and slaps him on the shoulder. “It’s always made that sound. My car’s a plucky heroine.”
“The road bends up ahead—what do I do?” Archie asks.
“Use the Force,” Dante says.
Mari answers Archie in a soothing voice. “Just turn the car with the road. Be gentle. Remember: look where you want to go.”
“Okay. All right. I think I’m getting this.” He smiles.
Another car honks as it overtakes them.
“What’s that in the road?” Archie asks.
Everyone looks. “Roadkill,” says Sam.
“What do I do? Should I stop?”
“Just drive around it,” Mari says.
“I can’t—it’s right in the middle,” Archie says, his voice rising with panic as they close the distance.
“Then just drive over it,” Sam says.
Archie glances at Sam and then back at the road. “And kill it?!”
“It’s already dead.”
“Yeah, but still, it seems like—Oh, God! It’s right there—what do I—”
There’s a thump-thump as the tires drive over the creature’s carcass. Archie shudders and then checks his rearview mirror. “You think it’s okay?”
Sam shakes his head. Dante laughs. Mari pats Archie on the shoulder again.
“Maybe someone else should take over,” Sam says. “He’s going like ten miles an hour. We’ll be lucky to make it to Seattle by Christmas at this rate. Assuming we don’t die in a fiery crash.”
“There’s no way we’re going to make it twenty-something more hours and back with just Dante and me driving,” says Mari. “So unless you want to put down that phone and take the wheel, I suggest you shut up and enjoy the ride.”
Sam sneers at Mari and then drops his eyes back to his phone.
“Still can’t get ahold of her?” Dante asks.
“No,” says Sam. “Maybe she forgot her phone somewhere. She’s lost it before. Plenty of times.”
Archie takes his eyes off the road for an instant and exchanges a look with Mari. The car vibrates as it drifts over the rumble strip and then vibrates again as it swerves back onto the road.
“Aquaman,” says Dante.
Sam thinks for a moment and then says, “Nick Fury.”
“Nope,” says Archie, both hands still gripping the wheel, though not as tightly as before. “Mari already used him.”
“Who fucking cares?” Sam replies. “There’s only so many superhero names that begin with N, but every other one ends with it.”
“Those are the rules,” says Archie.
There’s a tense silence for a few miles. But just when it seems like the game has died, Sam mumbles, “Naruto.”
Archie nods his approval. “Omega Red.”
“Doctor Manhattan,” says Mari.
“See?” Sam says.
“Nite Owl,” says Dante, staying with Watchmen.
“L . . .” says Sam. He rolls down the window and sticks out his head. The air is warm and humid and smells of manure. The wind is loud and kicks up everyone’s hair. Sam brings his head back into the car and rolls up the window. “Loki.”
“Did we already use Ironman?” Archie asks. Everyone nods. Archie changes lanes and actually overtakes another car. “Invisible Woman, then.”
“N again?” Mari says.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Archie says.
“You can’t do that,” Sam says.
“It’s not against the rules,” says Archie.
“What fucking rules? T
here’s not like an official Superhero Alphabet Name Game rulebook. You just keep making up shit as you go.”
Archie ignores Sam. “Think blue. And teleportation. Though, somewhat limited.”
“Oh, Nightcrawler.” She high-fives Archie. He smiles.
“Rogue,” says Dante, without skipping a beat.
Sam offers, “Earthworm Jim.”
“Mrs. Marvel,” says Archie.
“It’s technically Ms. Marvel,” Mari says.
“You lose,” Sam says.
“No, I don’t. It’s Mrs. Isn’t she married? To Captain Marvel?”
“I don’t think so. Anyways, trust me. It’s Ms. She was created to attract feminist fans,” Mari says.
“Shouldn’t she be wearing more clothes then?” Archie asks. Before Mari can reply, Archie spots a woman in the distance, holding up a thumb while walking along the shoulder. “Speaking of feminists . . .”
“Why are you slowing down?” Sam asks, peering between the seats at the speedometer’s dropping needle.
“Because I’m picking her up”
“Why?” asks Sam.
“I’m driving. I have the power.”
“You sound like a super villain,” Dante says.
Mari sits up. “We can’t pick up a hitchhiker. What if she’s a murderer?”
Sam groans. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Calm down, my little Asian buddy,” says Archie, clicking on the turn signal. “We’re on an adventure.”
“Then let’s stick to the main quest,” Sam says.
Everyone looks at the woman as Archie pulls over and rolls the car past her.
“She looks like a hippie,” Sam adds.
The car comes to a stop. Archie says, “Marigold, be a dear and roll down your window, please.”
Looking into the side mirror, Mari watches the woman approach. She’s white, maybe in her twenties or thirties. Skinny. Hair in dreadlocks. Pretty. Mari sighs and then does as Archie asked.
A moment later, the woman is standing outside Mari’s window.
“Thanks for stopping,” she says, leaning down and smiling.
Archie smiles back. “Where you headed?”
“Just up ahead to Chicago. If you’re going that far. If not, as close as you can get me would be great.”