Page 13 of Anywhere with You

“Do your parents ever cook Indian food?” Cara asked.

We had a six-hour drive ahead of us, according to Sir David Attenborough, and not much to see besides scrubby desert.

From the way Cara had her seat leaned back and her hands behind her head, I figured that she felt like I did, tired from travel, but more relaxed the farther we got down the road.

There weren’t many days in my adult life when I felt completely free from all responsibility.

Besides, you know, not driving into a ditch.

“Only my dad is Indian,” I said, “and he is very proud of his ability to scramble an egg. Indian cuisine is a little out of his range. My mom is an excellent cook, but unless it’s something you can find at a steakhouse or a grocery store bakery, she’s not going to try.

In her case, I don’t think she lacks skill, just an adventurous culinary spirit. ”

She raised her eyebrows at my word choice. I knew because I glanced at her as I said it, then turned quickly back to the road.

“Huh, okay,” she said.

“Do your parents cook at all?” I asked.

“My dad did a lot before he died last year. Yes, condolences accepted and all that. Basically his cooking is the only thing I miss. He was kind of an ass. My mom is brilliant in the kitchen. Really, you’ll have to come with me sometime when I visit.

Have you ever had truly amazing Cajun food?

Let me rephrase that, have you ever had five times the amount of truly amazing Cajun food that you can possibly eat, and eaten it anyway? ”

I laughed. “No, but I’m definitely tagging along to your mom’s house.”

“Her calas are my favorite breakfast, ever, and I have had literal dreams about her pompano en papillote.”

“Why is my mouth watering? I don’t even know what those things are.”

“You don’t, but your future self knows and is broadcasting the joy backward in time to your taste buds. That’s how good it is.”

I laughed.

“Now for the important question,” Cara said. “How did you meet Badger?”

“Oh, the real love of my life? The one who didn’t borrow my shirts and then assume they were hers when she moved out?”

“I don’t think you and Badger wear the same size.”

“Bridget and I didn’t either. She’s half my size, but that never stopped her.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“What was…? Oh, when I met Badger. Well, it was a dark and stormy night.”

“Of course it was.”

“I was just getting home from work, and it was pitch black outside. Our neighborhood has lighting problems even when the power’s working, and a strong breeze is enough to take out the rest.”

“Yes, I’m familiar. I also live in Houston. So, what happened?”

I thought for a moment, reliving the memory. “I tripped over a wet gremlin.”

“Aww,” Cara said.

“Yes. Aww. I scraped a knee and both elbows, and I lost my umbrella. But there was the gremlin, licking my face. I was pretty sure it was a dog.”

“What else would it have been?”

“Rat. Possum. Baby raccoon.”

“ Ooookay. ”

“So I picked it up, and it was very wiggly, but I got it into the house, and Bridget said, There aren’t enough shots in the world. ”

“Like vaccines? Or like vodka?”

“You know, I never asked. Let’s say both.”

“So, Badger…?” she said.

“I washed it, and it turned out to be a dog!” I made jazz hands. Or one jazz hand. The other was on the steering wheel.

“No way,” Cara said flatly.

“Yes way. It took about ten seconds of being clean before Bridget decided she loved him and that he was ours forever.”

“But you named him,” Cara guessed.

“Yes, Bridget wanted to name him something stupid.”

“Spot? Max? Shadow?”

“Yes, can you believe that? I gave her two options.”

“What was the other?”

I glanced at her, relaxed and smiling in the passenger seat, putting a single jelly bean into her mouth at a time. “BBQ Chicken.”

Cara snorted and almost choked on a jelly bean.

* * *

When Cara dozed off an hour later, I dug my earbuds out of my pocket and called my parents.

“How’s Badger?”

“A perfect little snuggle muffin,” Mom said. “How are you and your…friend?”

“We’re fine, Mother. Thanks for the hesitation there. Cara is my friend, and aren’t you always saying you wish I’d take more days off? I’m taking them. Because of her.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s just strange, thinking of the two of you out there, and your partners off together. It’s just…I just—”

“Here, I’m sending you the link to the Mesmio page we’re making about our trip. You can see that we’re having a wonderful time. Not moping at all.” I reminded myself to send the link when we stopped. I didn’t think Cara would appreciate waking up to me weaving all over the road.

“Okay, dear,” Mom said. “I will take a look. And I do appreciate the pictures you’ve sent. You look like you’re really having fun, and I’m glad. She is adorable, your friend. Isn’t she?”

“Cute as a button, Florence says.”

Mom laughed. “Florence is the best. Maybe I’ll go by and check on the store today.”

“So long as you don’t let her think that’s what you’re doing, she’ll be happy to see you. She thinks I’m worried about leaving the store with her and Doug.”

“Which you’re not,” she said knowingly.

“No, I’m not,” I insisted.

“Except, you are, just a little, because even though they are both very good at their jobs, it’s still your business, your store. Not theirs.”

“Of course,” I admitted. “So you’ll text me after you drop by the store?”

“Of course,” she mimicked, laughing a little. “You know, you really can still have your old room back if you need it.”

“Are you just going to keep dropping that into conversations?”

“There’s nothing much in there but a couple of yoga mats and your dad’s puzzles. Wouldn’t take twenty minutes to get it ready for you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you, and no. Not unless it turns out that I really don’t have a choice. Like I get home and discover that Godzilla stepped on my house.”

“I won’t take that personally.”

“Because you know that I don’t mean it personally. I love you, and you know that we started getting along a lot better the day I moved out.”

She sighed again. “I know. But I also miss you. Even the fighting.”

“Well, I don’t miss the fighting. But I will also try to visit more now that…my social schedule has become a little more open.”

“I know that you’re not supposed to badmouth your child’s ex, just in case they make up, but Bridget is a sack of shit, and I hate her.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome, Honey. Go. Keep enjoying your trip.”

“Kiss the little snuggle muffin for me,” I said, feeling the bite of missing him.

“Only constantly,” she said.

We said our good-byes, and I turned on my music, glancing over at Cara sleeping with her mouth wide open.

I grinned. Cute as a button.

* * *

“So, your birth name is Honoria?” Cara asked when she had properly woken up.

“Yes,” I said.

It was Cara’s turn to drive, and I was using the opportunity to stretch my legs out as far as I could. Driving sucked, and we probably wouldn’t even bother stopping for lunch after our hotel breakfast smorgasbord, so it was going to suck for many hours consecutively.

“I was named after my grandmother,” I said, “who was deathly ill when I was in utero but recovered miraculously once the birth certificate was signed. She’s still fine, living just outside of Vegas with a professional blackjack dealer and their six rescue dogs.”

Cara laughed. “Dear goodness. Does she go by Honey , too?”

I scoffed. “No, no one would dare, not even my grandpa when he was alive. She is Honoria and nothing else. She doesn’t even want to be called grandma .”

“You, on the other hand…”

“I hate the name. Honestly, I hate the nickname, too, but it was kind of inevitable.”

She thought about that. “You could’ve insisted that people call you Nora. Or Nori, like seaweed.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Had I really never considered that?

There was a brief time in middle school when I tried to get everyone to call me Amy because it was an easy-to-spell, easy-to-say, not weird name.

But there were four other Amys in my grade, so it’s not a surprise that it didn’t take.

“You majored in music?” she asked.

“We’re just speeding through my childhood here,” I said.

She managed to give me an I’m waiting expression without taking her eyes off the road.

“I…double majored,” I said.

“In…?”

“Music. And accounting.”

“Accounting,” she said, then gasped. “Oh my God, Honey, are you an accountant?”

“I was an accountant.”

“But you’re all like certified and all that? Can you help me with my taxes?”

“Shut. Up.”

She cackled.

“What about you?” I asked. “Education?”

It took her a second or two to finish laughing at me, but then she answered, “Biology with a seven-to-twelfth life science certification.”

“Exciting. You went to college with Lorenzo and Bridget, right? University of Houston?”

Cara nodded. “I was a couple years behind them, but yeah. Bridget and I had some friends in common, so when she and Lorenzo organized a fundraising party for an LGBT+ charity, I went and met them both.”

“You went?” I asked, then bit my lip.

“You can ask me questions, too, Honey.”

“You went as L , G , B , T , or plus?”

Cara snorted. “I don’t know if that was smooth or stupid. I’m bi. So’s Lorenzo. You knew that, right?”

“Yeah, Bridget and I gossiped about Lorenzo, just never about you.”

“Thanks?”

“Oh my God,” I said, so suddenly that Cara turned away from the road to look at me. “So in our little rainbow troupe, I’m the only True Lesbian?”

Cara gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t call us that, and put down your trophy. Lorenzo and I gossiped about you and Bridget, both.”

I laughed. “Okay, fair enough. I’ve been attracted to men. It just turns out I don’t really like them.”

“Except…”

“Except what?”

Cara was holding her hand out, as though waiting for me to put an answer in it. “There’s always an exception.”

“Fine. Except for Alan Alda.”

“The guy on M*A*S*H ? That’s who you’d date? He’s really old.”