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She dropped her head.
He’s a good man, Dad. He’s just doing what you didn’t get the chance to do.
She fought her tears.
With the bridge disappearing behind them, they stopped for gas and after a retreat to the bathroom, Donja climbed the steps to an overlook.
Damn, I need a cigarette.
She surveyed the countryside which was considerably different than the Lower Peninsula; it was a forsaken wilderness. Debbie flashed into her mind and she touched the screen on her phone which lit up. No reception.
Shit!
Back at the Chevy, Carson was talking with a man and they had the hood up.
“What’s up?” She asked her mom.
“The engine’s running hot for some reason.”
Carson joined them. “There’s a Travelodge just up the road. We’ll have to spend the night.”
“Carson,” Lisa sighed.
“It’s just for the night, sweetheart. The mechanic can get it fixed by morning.”
“Whatever,” Donja mumbled to herself as she pushed her hair behind her ears. She glanced at Carson. “Does this dump have Wi-Fi or have we totally left civilization?”
Carson chuckled to himself. “I would think so,” he said, flashing his baby blues. “Now how about dinner. You guys hungry?”
“Yeah!” Frankie beamed, can we do McFee’s?”
Donja blurted before thinking. “That’s history, bro, just like vanilla lattes, our home, my friends, my car, my entire life!”
Lisa put her arm around her and forced a hug. “I know you’re sad, but it’s going to be okay, honey. You’ll see.”
Donja frowned. “Uh huh, yeah!”
Memoires
It was an annoying ring that pulled Donja from the depths of slumber. Her first impulse was to escape the eerie sound invading her dreams, but it was not to be. The annoying sound though slightly muffled, persisted. She opened one eye and as her vision cleared, she saw a blinking light atop the motel phone on the nightstand between her and Frankie’s bed. She stretched, grasped the handset and pulled it to her ear.
“Hello,” she said with a cracked voice.
“Morning honey,” her mom cooed.
“Mmm hum.”
“You guys get dressed, we’re leaving in about thirty minutes.”
She cradled the phone, threw back the covers and yawned.
“Back to my wonderful life.” She swung her feet to the floor. “Frankie, wake up.”
Maestro, who was sleeping next to Frankie raised his head with pricked ears. He scrambled from Frankie’s grasp and leapt, clearing the expanse between the two beds, licking at her face. “And take Maestro out,” she blurted.
She retrieved the remote and turned on the television. Frankie sat up rubbing his eyes. “Put it on HBO?”
“Okay,” Donja said, searching the channels. Seeing a girl’s picture flash on the screen, she paused to listen as a newscaster with blonde hair and a mannequin smile spoke in a monotone voice: “The death of this young victim, a student at the university in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, is being investigated as a homicide.”