Page 8 of Anywhere with You
It took an hour just to get out of Houston. I spent that time staring at the map on the car monitor. For all that the car was bright orange on the outside, it was comfortable inside, with black seats and plenty of cup holders and USB ports. That was the extent of my car knowledge.
“That is not a straight line.” I pointed at the map on the screen.
Cara huffed. “It’s a road trip, Honey, not a flight. We have tourist stops, destinations.”
“Speaking of which, I’m so glad neither of us wants to go to Disneyland.”
“Me, too. I was willing to make compromises, but it would’ve been me hanging out in the hotel while you went to Disneyland by yourself, and I would’ve felt guilty.”
I imagined Cara in a hotel robe, drink in hand, clicking through the cable channels. “Not too guilty.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Is it weird that we don’t have any destination stops in Texas?”
I thought about it. “No. I mean, we’ve both lived here for a long time. I’m sure we’ve seen all the major tourist sites.”
“Hmm,” she said. “The Alamo?”
“Seen it. Big Bend?”
“Seen it. South Padre Island?”
“Oh,” I said, “well, no. But it’s a little out of our way.”
Cara grinned. “It’s worth the drive. Miles and miles of sand, hundreds of seabirds. I saw a starfish once.”
“Cool,” I said genuinely. I’d never seen a starfish except in the zoo. “I love the beach, but I haven’t been since my dog discovered that he can’t swim.”
“Oh no,” she said with a gasp.
“It was fine. I just pulled him up by his leash. The fisherman on the pier did a double take.”
“Hah, dogfish,” Cara quipped. “What’s his name?”
“I assume you mean my dog, not the fisherman. Badger.”
She thought about that for a minute. “Badger. You, Honey, have a dog named Badger. That’s adorable. Is he a vicious predator?”
“He’s a black cotton ball with manic tendencies.”
“Do you have a picture?”
I showed her my home screen and she awww ed.
“We got him a few months ago. I’d forgotten that you hadn’t met him. Have you ever had pets?”
Cara shook her head. “My mom’s allergic to every nonhuman mammal she’s ever met. I had a goldfish once. Not very exciting.”
“Your mom doesn’t live nearby, does she? Have you thought about getting a pet now…?” I almost said, now that you live alone, but it felt too sharp. Still, Badger was the only reason my house wasn’t lonely.
She shrugged. “I guess I could. Mom’s in New Orleans. She never leaves.”
“Come meet Badger when we’re back home. He’ll make up your mind.”
Cara smiled, glancing again at my phone screen. “I have no doubt.”
As the skyscrapers gave way to box stores, the GPS spoke in a calm, British, male voice. I raised my eyebrows at her.
“Yes, I downloaded a voice for my GPS that sounds like Sir David Attenborough,” she said in explanation, not at all apologetic.
I nodded, not confessing that my GPS sounded like Fran Drescher. It had been a joke, but Bridget had been so annoyed that I’d kept it. I was fond of my faux Fran now.
Earlier in the week, Cara had shared a work-in-progress itinerary with me online, titled Spring Break, Bitches!!! It made me laugh. I opened it now.
“Nothing of note today except to put our non–spring break life in the rearview mirror,” I said. “We’ll spend the entire day in the car and barely make it out of Texas. Kind of a bummer, isn’t it? Maybe we should’ve gone east. For morale.”
“We have your day one playlist for morale,” Cara said. “And day two will be worth it.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Cara spared half a second to glance at me. “What are you talking about? You got the itinerary, didn’t you?”
“Sure, but I didn’t look at it.”
Cara gaped. “You didn’t look at it? You just got in the car with me and let me just take you wherever?”
I looked her up and down. “Are you a kidnapper? Smuggler? Recruiter for the WNBA?”
“No.” Cara’s tone said obviously not .
“Then I’m probably fine,” I said.
Cara drove with that same baffled expression on her face for miles. Unsurprisingly, she also drove the speed limit, with hands at the two and ten positions.
I watched the miles and miles of buildings, intertwining roads, and repetitive billboards until my eyes started to feel heavy. I made myself stay awake until we were out of Houston. I wanted to wish it a silent farewell and fuck off, which I accidentally said out loud.
“Amen,” Cara said.
Somewhere in the Texas Hill Country and in the middle of “The Tortured Poets Department,” Cara murmuring along with Taylor about being truly known, I fell asleep.