The Road That Leads to Us

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “You can do better than that.”

  “Lollipops make me happy.”

  “No.”

  “Bubblegum.” She proceeded to blow the biggest bubble imaginable beside my head.

  Keeping my eyes on the road I lifted my hand and poked my finger into the bubble so that it popped.

  “Dean!”

  “What?” I played innocent.

  “Don’t pop my bubbles.” She tried to glare at me, but I could see the humor in her eyes.

  “Then don’t blow bubbles for me to pop.”

  She looked around at our surroundings then, and asked, “Where are we?”

  “The middle of nowhere,” I replied.

  “Yeah, sorta looks like it,” she agreed. “So…we stop and eat and figure out where to go from there?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Twenty minutes later I stopped at a gas station. It only had two pumps and the building beside it looked more like a shack and not a convenience store.

  There also didn’t seem to be anything else nearby.

  “Stay in the car,” I told Willow as I stepped out to head inside to pay.

  I hadn’t walked more than three steps when I heard the passenger door open and close.

  Of course she didn’t listen.

  I couldn’t even be surprised.

  Inside I paid for the gas while Willow walked around loading up her arms with junk food.

  “Willow,” I groaned, “we’re going to get breakfast. We don’t need all of that.”

  “Dean,” she said my name because I’d said hers, “every road trip calls for snacks and lots of them.”

  I shook my head and pushed my hair from my eyes. “Alright, alright.” I relinquished. Let’s face it, I’d do anything for Willow, even if it meant taking up precious space in my car with snacks. “Just so you know, I already have a bag of lollipops in the car.” I was sure she’d probably packed some herself, but you could never have too many lollipops when it came to Willow.

  She practically beamed as she unloaded her goods onto the counter to checkout. “You spoil me.”

  “Uh-huh.” I hummed in agreement, grabbing my wallet to pay for the snacks.

  “I’ve got this.” She shoved me away.

  “No, I’m—”

  She silenced me with a glare.

  “I’ll go pump the gas,” I muttered.

  “Good boy.” She lifted her hand to pat the top of my head.

  The guy working behind the counter looked at us like we were crazy. I shot him an apologetic smile before heading outside.

  Despite the fact that it was only nearing ten in the morning it was already blazing hot outside and the sounds of bugs buzzing was incessant.

  I leaned against the car as I pumped gas and slid my sunglasses from the collar of my shirt to put them on.

  Just as I was finishing up Willow walked out the door with a bag full of junk food and two glass bottles of Orange Crush dangling precariously from her fingers.

  I couldn’t help but grin.

  “Look what I found,” she boasted proudly.

  I replaced the gas cap and jogged around to open the passenger door for her. “I’m surprised they had them.”

  “I guess small towns are good for something.”

  I waited until she was fully in the car before closing the door.

  “Wait, wait, wait!” She cried suddenly, dropping everything on the floor.

  “What did I do?” I took a step away from the car like I’d been burned.

  “We have to commemorate this moment.” She looked at me like I was the crazy one.

  “Uh…”

  “Boys,” she mumbled, rummaging through her backpack. “Aha!” She cried, pulling out her polaroid camera and scrambling out of the car. She took my hand and towed me closer to the convenience store. Standing in front of me, she commanded, “Smile.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head but I didn’t smile.

  She took the picture anyway and it printed out.

  When I started back towards the car she pressed a hand to my chest to halt me.

  “We need one together,” she explained, pressing into my side and holding out the camera selfie style.

  This time I did smile, but the way she was holding that thing I was curious to see whether or not we ended up in the picture at all.

  “Any more pictures?” I asked her before I moved this time.

  “Nope, I’m good.” She held the pictures on the end, careful not to touch where it was developing.

  Once in the car she laid them on the dashboard and crossed her legs on the seat.

  She smiled over at me, and the bright morning sun made a halo behind her.

  I felt my breath catch and some strange unknown emotion bubbled up inside me.

  Before I could think too much on it I started the car.

  Willow let out a giggle and pointed to my keychain. “Of course you have a Poké Ball.”

  She then fumbled with the bottles, managing to untwist the cap and handed one to me. I waited until she had hers uncapped before pulling away.

  “What if a cop saw us and thought we were drinking beer?” She questioned, wiggling around until she got comfortable.

  “They’d probably pull us over and then feel like an idiot,” I quipped, raising the glass to my lips and driving one handed.

  She glanced around the car and let out a frustrated groan. “You don’t have cup holders. I think the world is ending.”

  “Sorry, darlin’.” I chuckled. “I think you’ll survive.”

  She let the bottle dangle from her fingertips. “But what if it spills.”

  “Better not,” I said in a low, warning tone.

  She let out a light twinkling laugh. “I’d never do that.”

  She sat back, her blonde hair blowing around her shoulders from the wind.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she whispered.

  “Me either,” I agreed. “But it’s going to be fun.”

  “Loads,” she concurred.

  And with that one word I knew I was in big trouble.

  Willow

  We spent a good thirty minutes driving further south, trying to find a place to eat that didn’t look like it belonged in a horror movie.

  We finally stopped at a place called Granny’s.

  I had my doubts about it, but Dean seemed to think it was safe.

  He parked the car at the front of the building and killed the engine.

  The parking lot was full of rundown cars and motorcycles, which I eyed warily.

  “Dean…” I hedged.

  “It’s fine,” he promised, “besides, I’m starving and I can’t wait another minute to eat.”

  I followed him inside the building and was surprised to find that it was relatively clean, with shiny oak floors and wood beams crisscrossing the ceiling. Tables were scattered around with menus already placed in the center.

  Dean waved his hand forward, indicating that I needed to go first and pick the table.

  I chose one near the window.

  We hadn’t been waiting long when a frazzled young waitress—she couldn’t have been much older than me—scurried over to our table for our drink order.

  “Water,” I told her.

  If I had any more soda right now I’d be so hyper Dean would want to knock me out with a tranquilizer.

  “Water.” Dean smiled up at her.

  “Copy cat.” I kicked his leg lightly.

  “Ha, ha, ha,” he intoned, returning his gaze to the menu as the waitress ran off.

  I looked down at the menu, scanning the items. It was practically time for lunch, but since we’d skipped breakfast I eyed that portion of the menu.

  When the waitress returned I ordered pancakes and Dean ordered the Granny’s Special, which equated to pretty much everything on the menu.

  “How are you going to eat all that?” I asked him, sipping my ice water.

  “Trust me, I can.”

&n
bsp; I’d seen Dean put away a pile of food before, so I knew he could, but that still didn’t answer the how. I mean, he was so thin, where could it possibly go?

  My phone vibrated on the table and I looked down to see a string of texts from my dad, all sent minutes apart.

  How are you?

  Where are you?

  Willow?

  Answer me?

  I’m worried.

  I’m getting in the car to come find you. Send smoke signals.

  I snorted at the last one and wrote back a quick reply, assuring him I was fine and we’d stopped to eat.

  He sent back a picture of himself frowning and said my mom stopped him from coming after me.

  I shook my head and put my phone away.

  “Your dad?” Dean asked, tapping his fingers against the tabletop.

  I nodded. “He’s hilarious. He didn’t act this sad when I left for college.”

  Dean’s lips twisted into a small, wry smile. “Ah, but you weren’t headed to college with a guy.”

  “True,” I concurred. “He has to realize I’ve grown up at some point though.”

  Dean chuckled and leaned back so that the front legs of the chair tipped up. “I don’t think that’s ever going to happen.”

  He was probably right, but I could hope.

  “Way to crush my dreams.”

  The chair came down, making a loud clanking noise as it connected with the floor. “That’s me. Dean the Dream Crusher.” He lifted his arms in the air and flexed his muscles, all the while making a growling noise.

  Laughter bubbled out of my throat, his intended effect.

  I picked up the straw wrapper and twisted it around my fingers. “I probably should’ve thought this whole road trip thing through better,” I admitted. “Had some sort of a plan for where I wanted to go.”

  “Plans are overrated,” he shrugged, stretching his legs out so his foot brushed mine. He paused, seeming to contemplate something. “Did you not have some sort of plan when you were going with your friends?”

  I shook my head and began to rip apart the wrapper into a million little pieces. “No,” I confessed. “They thought I did, but I lied. I have no idea where I want to go, just like I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I’m pretty pathetic.”

  “You’re not pathetic. Far from it, actually. This is all relatively normal.”

  I mock-winced. “I don’t want to be normal.”

  He chuckled, the sound of it warming me. “Your situation is normal. You, however, are from it. In fact, I’d say you’re pretty extraordinary.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Dean.”

  He shrugged and flashed me a small smile like it was no big deal.

  “Pancakes and a Granny’s Special.” The waitress declared as she appeared at our table with a large tray balanced precariously on one hand. I decided then and there that waiters and waitresses deserved some sort of medal for being able to balance heavy trays. It was quite the talent.

  Dean and I moved our glasses of water out of the way so she could set everything down.

  I had one lone plate, while the rest of the table was covered with Dean’s.

  He had a plate of eggs, bacon, toast, biscuits, hash browns, pancakes—it was a smorgasbord of everything.

  “Hope you enjoy.” The waitress smiled. “I’ll be back to fill up your waters.”

  “This looks like heaven.” Dean gasped, his eyes as wide as saucers, as he eyed the food lovingly. Seriously, he looked at the food like a little kid looks at a puppy—with awe and excitement.

  “Good luck eating all of that.”

  I grabbed the syrup and began drenching my pancakes in a bath of it.

  “I don’t need luck,” he sighed dreamily, “I’ve got this.”

  “It’s going to take you two hours to eat all of it.”

  I cut into my pancake and took a bite.

  Whoa.

  Best damn pancake I ever ate.

  “Don’t underestimate me.” Dean declared before shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

  We both acted like we hadn’t eaten in five days.

  By the time I was finished with my two pancakes Dean had worked his way through half of his food and was still going strong.

  “I’ll leave this here for when you’re ready.” The waitress smiled pleasantly as she left the check and topped off our glasses of water.

  “Uh-huh, danks.” Dean said around his mouthful of food.

  I shook my head and smiled at the waitress as I mouthed, “Boys.”

  “Saw that.” Dean kicked my leg.

  “Good.” I stuck my tongue out at him.

  Fifteen minutes later Dean pushed away his plate and grabbed his stomach. “I’m stuffed. I’m never eating again.”

  I couldn’t help but snicker.

  He picked up the bill and studied it before pulling out his wallet.

  “I can pay,” I said, trying to grab the receipt from his hand.

  He held it high above his head and laughed as I struggled.

  “You already bought the snacks,” he tilted his chin up slightly in a gesture to assure me he meant business, “I’ll buy the breakfast.”

  “You also bought the gas.”

  “My car,” he countered.

  I sighed, making one last-ditch effort to snag the receipt. He slapped it against his chest and wagged a finger on his free hand.

  “Nuh-uh. Not happening.”

  “Fine.” I raised my hands in surrender. “You pay this time.”

  His lips lifted into a smirk, pleased that he’d won this argument.

  He put enough money on the table to cover everything and stood, stretching his arms above his head and revealing a sliver of skin and a trail of hair disappearing into his jeans.

  And I was staring.

  Why was I staring?

  I quickly averted my eyes and felt heat blossom across my cheeks.

  Thankfully, Dean seemed oblivious.

  “I’m going to use the restroom, so you can head on to the car if you want.” He dug in his pocket for the key and once he procured it he held it out and jangled it around.

  I stood and swiped it from him.

  “Better hurry or I might not wait,” I jested, winking at him as I headed for the door.

  “You’d be miserable without me.” He grinned, heading in the direction of the bathroom. “You also wouldn’t get very far.”

  He was right. I didn’t know how to drive a stick shift.

  I headed outside into the blazing heat and swore that within seconds my back was damp with sweat.

  Summers in the south equaled a big, fat NO.

  I slid into the passenger seat of the car.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I rubbed my hand over the leather seat. I knew how much work Dean had put into it to get it to run. Not to mention all the bodywork he’d had to do. It wasn’t a surprise that in our hometown he was a bit of a legend—anytime anyone needed bodywork done to their car they went to Wentworth Wheels. More importantly they asked for Dean.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and checked all my social media accounts.

  I snorted when I saw a post from Lauren on Instagram. She and Greta had gotten their nails done in this god-awful pointy style with some kind of glittery polish. Their fingers looked like clawed disco balls. I’d keep my paint free nails thank you very much.

  Dean strolled outside and slipped his sunglasses on.

  He slid into the car with a grace I didn’t possess.

  “I think it’s about time we figure out where we’re going.” He grinned and turned in his seat to reach into the back. He dug around and around until finally he procured a map.

  That’s right.

  A map.

  Like a real life paper map.

  That you could hold in your hands.

  I stared at it like it was some alien like object.

  “Um…Dean,” I said slowly, “why are you holding a map? That’s what navigation systems are for.”
I was already pulling the map app up on my phone.

  He batted my phone out of my hand so that it landed on the floor of the car with a thunk.

  “Dean!” I cried horrified and immediately dove down to grab my phone. I picked off a piece of lint that had become trapped in the corner of the case.

  “No,” he said, grabbing my phone this time and placing it on his lap, “we don’t need that.”

  “Uh, yes we do, if we don’t want to get lost.”

  “Don’t you see, Willow, getting lost is all part of the fun. Sometimes you have to get lost in order to be found.”

  “I hate it when you speak in riddles,” I mumbled under my breath.

  “Just hear me out, okay?” He turned in his seat and draped his arm across the back.

  I pulled in a lungful of air. “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “This,” he held up my phone, “will take us anywhere we want it to. This,” he lowered the phone and waved the map around, “can take us places we would never normally go.”

  “Dean, you’re not making any sense.”

  He waved his hand around, urging me to shut up. “I’m not done. You see, with this,” he waved the map around again, “we can point and choose.”

  “Can’t we point and choose and then put the place in the GPS?” I reasoned.

  “Ah, we could.” He held a finger in the air and smiled, like he was pleased I had posed that question. “But you see, the GPS will take us the most direct route and then we’re just there. Whereas with the map, we pick a place and then have to figure out the rest ourselves. We might see a place we would’ve otherwise missed.”

  “I get where you’re coming from,” I nodded, thinking it through, “but it makes me nervous.”

  “You? Nervous?” He grinned mischievously. “I thought you were the adventurous one while I was the level-headed one. I must say, I’m quite enjoying this role reversal.”

  “Just give me a minute.” I held up one finger and wiggled it around.

  Going off grid, so to speak, was scary. We could end up in the middle of some scary ass place with no cell service. No. Cell. Service. And that would be the very time something bad would happen.

  But Dean was also right when he said I was normally the more adventurous one of the two of us.

  Honestly, this sounded like something that would be my idea, not his.

  Maybe college had made me soft.