Page 12 of Anywhere with You
The hotel was nice enough that I took notice, tired as I was.
“This place,” I said as we dropped fast food wrappers into the trash can and hauled luggage to the elevator.
“Fancy, right? I got a last-minute deal you wouldn’t believe.” Cara seemed pleased that I’d noticed.
“That’s…thank you. Thank you for taking care of all the planning. It’s hitting me how little I did to prepare for this trip, compared with you.”
Her smile widened. “You are very welcome. I enjoy the planning part. There were times with Lorenzo that I enjoyed the planning more than the vacation itself.”
“I get that,” I said. And I did. Even on weekend trips with Bridget, I’d find that I enjoyed the travel snacks more than the company.
As Cara took out the key card for the door, everything I’d said today came to mind at once.
Had I been unhappy? I didn’t know if I could trust my memories right now.
I was still too angry to think clearly. But I did myself the favor of not disregarding what I felt, just setting it aside to examine when I was less exhausted.
“If you like the hotel now,” Cara said, “just wait until breakfast.”
I called the store while Cara showered. I tried to stay near the door and not get sand in the room, but I soon gave up and sat at the desk, reasoning that so long as I didn’t get sand in the beds, Cara couldn’t be too upset with me.
Doug answered, “Strings & Things, Douglas speaking.”
I snickered, then tried to cover it with a cough. “Hey, Doug. It’s Honey. How’s it going?”
“That drum kit finally sold. I thought we’d never get rid of it. I hate those effing cymbals.”
I was impressed. That was a good sale. “Yeah,” I said, “but you know we’re just going to get another one, right? If it helps, there are bongos in the next delivery.”
“ Coooool. Hey, can wireless mics go bad? We have one that smells weird.”
“Weird like it’s going to burst into flames? Or weird like someone breathed into it a lot—maybe someone who doesn’t floss?”
There was a gagging sound on the line, then Florence took the phone.
“Honey, stop calling and worrying about us,” she said. “Your body needs a break, but your brain does, too. We’ve got this.”
“I know you do. I actually haven’t been worried at all.” It was strange to think that was almost true. I missed the store, but I was pretty sure Florence and Doug were better at running it than I was.
“Good,” she said. “Now be sure to have some fun, get into a little trouble, then tell me all about it. In detail, if you please.”
I heard the shower stop and immediately stood.
“I have to go, Florence,” I said. “Cara’s…” I didn’t want to say Cara’s getting out of the shower because Florence had a tendency to take innocent statements and make them weird, so I lied. “Cara’s waiting.”
“Whatever cranks your tractor, Hon. She is a pretty one.”
I put my head in my free hand. “What…? Never mind, please don’t tell me what that means. I’ll call again tomorrow.”
“Or don’t,” Florence singsonged. “Your choice.”
* * *
Cara was so very right about breakfast. There was a hot buffet, a made-to-order omelet station, and a coffee bar on top of the usual continental breakfast offerings.
I’d stayed in a hotel once that offered cereal and milk and black coffee and called it breakfast.
For the moment, I didn’t care if Cara and I had paid full price and a half for this place.
We sat at a table next to an indoor fountain, surrounded by tropical plants.
Soft music played, interspersed with nature sounds.
There weren’t many other guests, but they all looked as calm as I felt, drifting to their tables with mountains of food.
I had two delicious platefuls, and so did Cara: waffles with whipped cream and berries, omelets with every meat and vegetable they offered, and entirely too much bacon.
We drank cappuccinos until we were jittery.
We were children on vacation, grabbing one last chocolate muffin on our way out the door.
“We could just stay here,” I said.
Cara shrugged. “It wouldn’t be a bad place to spend the week.”
“I meant forever,” I said, and she laughed.
We made a couple of Mesmio reels on the road, making up dances to my music mix and telling jokes, most of them stupid.
“There were two muffins in an oven,” I said. “One muffin turns to the other muffin and says, ‘Damn, it’s hot in here.’ The second muffin says, ‘Aaah! A talking muffin!’ ”
Cara’s pity laugh got me laughing, too.
“Why does Snoop Dogg carry an umbrella?” she asked.
“Why?”
“Fo’ drizzle,” she said, then laughed uproariously.
“More than half of Mesmio users are too young to understand that joke.”
“Oh, oh!” Cara said excitedly. “Do you want to hear the first recorded joke in the English language? What hangs at a man’s thigh and wants to poke the hole that it’s often poked before?”
I faked a gasp, trying not to laugh, “Cara!”
“A key,” she said, grinning. “Mind out of the gutter, Honey.” She winked at her phone and ended the recording.
I burst out laughing.
“We have some new followers,” Cara said.
“Anyone you know?” I wanted to ask if Lorenzo and Bridget were following us, of course. I wanted to hear that they had commented, saying that they had clearly been wrong, that we were the loves of their lives, that they wanted, no, needed us to come home.
For a moment, I let that fantasy fester. I imagined holding Bridget again. I imagined her in her blush ball gown at our wedding. I imagined trying to love her and trust her, but knowing that she had chosen someone else.
The reality was that she had walked out, and for the first time, I honestly couldn’t imagine taking her back. Even under all the anger, I hadn’t reached the point of being glad she was gone. But I was a step closer.
I tried to turn my attention back to Cara, who was reading out Mesmio handles. “No one I recognize,” she said.
“Well, we are fucking delightful.”
“And charming.”
Cara replayed our Mesmio reel from Roswell, and we both laughed at our hard hats, already lost somewhere in the back seat.
“Oh, look at this comment,” she said, not holding up the phone to show me because I was driving, but getting ready to read it aloud.
“Don’t read the comments. What are you, new to the internet?”
“It’s sweet,” she said. “ How long have you two been together? Hashtag #relationshipgoals.”
I nodded sagely. “Alien autopsies have always been part of my relationship goals, too.”
She kept reading. “ Looks like so much fun. Makes me crave a road trip. And I heart you, Cara and Honey. And The busty one with the purple hair is hot. I’d let her take me to space. ”
“Ew,” I said, “and what?”
Cara laughed. I knew she had to be skimming and skipping the gross and rude comments and just reading me the nice ones. It was sweet.
“This one just says, Bidi Bidi Bom Bom .”
Now I was laughing. “Because you look like Selena!”
“The Latina singer? You know I’m white, right?”
I looked at her, my mouth falling open.
She laughed. “I’m kidding. Well, mostly. My grandmother is Irish.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be redheaded and freckled, lass?”
Cara grinned. “My father was Irish and Puerto Rican. My mother’s family was originally from Mexico and has lived in New Orleans for seven generations. We can all cook enchiladas and boudin.”
“Well,” I said, “you still look a lot like Selena.”
Cara pulled down the visor and looked in the mirror. “No way,” she said.
“How can you not see it? I’m buying you some red lipstick next time we stop. You’ll see.”
I glanced over at her again, watching her pout her luscious lips in the mirror. The rest of her could be as attractive as Badger’s butt, and it would still be difficult to ignore those lips. Her tongue flicked out to moisten them, and I…I had to focus on keeping the car inside the lines.
For a moment, I let myself imagine the feel of her mouth against my throat and had to take a few deep breaths, quietly, so she didn’t realize the effect she was having on me.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying and failing not to glance over again. “It’s a compliment.”
“Being compared to Selena? Of course it’s a compliment.”
Then she shocked me so completely that I almost drove off the road, pursing her lips briefly for the mirror and breaking out in a perfect, full volume rendition of “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom.”