Page 15 of When People Leave

Charlie

T he next day, While Charlie and Abby waited on the porch with their suitcases, Morgan ran next door to drop Albert and Brigitta off with Esther.

Abby didn’t want to drive to Vegas as she’d already driven from Encinitas, and Charlie had rented a Mini Cooper, so when Morgan got back, the women piled their overnight bags into the trunk of her rented Nissan Altima.

“Shotgun!” Charlie called out as she hurled herself into the front passenger seat.

“That’s poppycock!” Abby said grudgingly, as she crawled into the back.

“Poppycock?” Charlie said. “Are you a time traveler from the fifties?”

“I can’t swear in front of the kids; they like that expression.”

“Well, we don’t,” Morgan said.

“Okay, then it’s bullshit that just because I’m the youngest, I never get to sit in the front. And just because I’m the smallest, even when one of us brought a friend home, I got stuck in the middle in the backseat.”

“You have the entire back to yourself. It’ll be great, you can stretch out,” Charlie said.

“If you feel that way, then you sit back here.”

“I already called shotgun,” Charlie said, putting on her seat belt.

“I guess age does come before beauty,” Abby said, preening in the rearview mirror.

“I haven’t even pulled out of the driveway, and you two are going at it,” Morgan said.

“It’s her fault,” Charlie and Abby said in unison.

Morgan turned around and looked at Abby. “When we’re halfway there, I’ll pull over, and you guys can switch seats.”

“Works for me,” Abby said, putting on her seatbelt.

“Okay, but don’t wake me up if I fall asleep.” Charlie smiled to herself.

Abby tapped her fingers on Charlie’s head. “No worries, I won’t let that happen.”

Charlie realized that somehow, since their mother’s death, she and her sisters had reverted to patterns that they had as children.

As Morgan began backing out of Carla’s driveway, she suddenly slammed on her brakes so hard the car made a screeching noise, and Charlie jerked forward against her seatbelt.

“Geez,” Charlie said. “What happened?” Charlie and Abby turned their heads to see what had made Morgan stop.

A woman pushing a baby in a stroller was walking alongside a man carrying a toddler girl and holding another young girl’s hand.

After they walked past Morgan’s car, Morgan backed out and headed down the street.

“Do you ever think about what it would’ve been like if our father had lived with us?” Morgan asked.

Charlie sat back stiffly, they usually avoided talking about him.

“I used to pretend my friends’ dads were mine,” Abby said.

Charlie relaxed her facial muscles. “When I was little, I’d go into Mom’s closet, sit on the floor, and talk to him. I’d tell him about my day, who I had a crush on, and who was mean to me. Dad always took my side.” A sad smile crept across Charlie’s face.

“I wish he would’ve taken me to the father/daughter tea in elementary school,” Morgan said, honking a little too aggressively at the car in front of her.

“I hated that day of the year. I used to tell Mom I had a stomachache and couldn’t go to school,” Abby said. “It wasn’t a total lie.”

“I played sick, too,” Charlie said. “Mom knew, but she never said anything.”

Charlie pulled a picture from her wallet that she had placed behind her driver’s license.

She turned to the back seat to show it to Abby.

“This was one of the few pictures Mom had of me with my dad.” It was a picture of their father holding Charlie when she was around two.

“Mom didn’t know I took it from her album. ”

“At least you and Morgan have memories of him,” Abby said. “I was so young when he died.”

Charlie put the picture back in her wallet. As much as she had fun teasing her younger sister, it hurt to see Abby upset.

“I wish Mom told us more about our father,” Morgan said. “Whenever I’d ask, she’d get this faraway look and start crying, so I had to stop asking.”

“Things are getting gloomy in here,” Charlie said. She turned the radio on to a nineties station to liven things up. Then, she sang loudly to Elton John’s ‘Candle in the Wind.’ “…pain was the price you paid even when you died…”

“Much better,” Abby asked.

Charlie switched the station, and the song from Friends, “I’ll Be There for You,” by The Rembrandts, came on.

The women sang at the top of their lungs.

When they did the hand clap, Morgan let go of the wheel for a second, and the car lurched toward the next lane.

Charlie grabbed the steering wheel and righted it.

“It might be safer to stick with ballads,” Charlie said.

“Is there such a thing as an upbeat ballad?” Abby asked.

They sang almost every song that came on, and the two-and-a-half hours flew by.

“We’re halfway there,” Abby called out. “Time to switch seats, Charlie.”

“Is anyone hungry, because I’m starving,” Charlie ignored her.

“Why don’t we stop for lunch, and then you kids can switch seats afterward,” Morgan said.

Morgan got off the I-15 highway in Barstow while Abby found a Mexican restaurant nearby. The girls had always loved Mexican food. When they were kids, Carla would take them to El Torito Restaurant on their birthdays and let them order anything they wanted, including virgin banana daiquiris.

The scent of warm, fresh tortillas welcomed them as they entered the restaurant, Lola’s Kitchen. In honor of their mother’s favorite, they all ordered the same thing: enchiladas suizas .

From her seat at the window, Abby scanned the parking lot.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

“Google said there’s a lot of theft in Bakersfield, so I’m keeping an eye on our luggage,” Abby said.

“No one wants your Yosemite Sam nightshirt and ratty old toothbrush,” Charlie said, going to get a drink.

“You never know,” Abby said.

They ordered at the counter and while waiting for the food to be brought over, Morgan got a Coke from the machine and sat across from Abby.

“How can you drink that poison?” Abby asked.

“They were out of Tequila.” Morgan pointed at the machine. “Besides, I need the caffeine, I’m the one driving.”

Charlie joined them, holding a big glass of water. “At least Charlie cares if all her teeth fall out,” Abby said.

“I’m vain that way,” Charlie said.

The worker brought their food over, and Charlie took a bite of her enchilada, reveling in the cheesy, saucy concoction.

“So, what are we going to do when we get to Vegas?” Abby asked.

“We’re going to check into the hotel, then go directly to the guy’s house,” Morgan said.

“I have a better idea,” Abby said, crunching on a tortilla chip. “I think first we should soak up some sun by the pool, then hit the slots.”

“We aren’t going to Vegas to have fun,” Morgan said. “We’re going to talk to Mom’s mystery man.”

“Can’t we do both?” Abby pouted. “I haven’t had a vacation since I had Hudson over a hundred years ago.”

“Why don’t we compromise,” Charlie said. “We can go to the hotel, Abby can relax, and then we go to his house first thing tomorrow morning.”

“That seems fair,” Morgan said.

By the time they turned into the M Resort Hotel in Henderson, it was late afternoon. As Charlie got out she felt the oppressive heat from the sun radiating off the hood of the car.

“It’s so hot here,” Morgan said, fanning her face with the ticket the valet handed her.

When Charlie pulled open the heavy glass door to the hotel, she luxuriated in the blast of cold air that greeted her as if Jack Frost had sneezed in her face. The women checked in and then headed through the maze of gambling tables to find the elevators to their room.

Abby froze at the sight of a Wheel of Fortune slot machine. “Can you take this to the room with you?” she said, pushing her suitcase over to Charlie. “I need to do one thing first.” She all but skipped away.

“Stop once you lose twenty!” Morgan called after her. “You have to pay a third of the hotel bill.”

“I’m going to win because Mama’s kids need a new pair of shoes.” Abby chuckled.

Charlie shook her head and muttered a soft ‘ugh’, as she and Morgan dragged the three suitcases into the elevator.

Abby joined them ten minutes later and thirty dollars poorer. “I was so sure I’d win. I’m good at Wheel of Fortune on TV,” Abby said. “I guess my kids are going to keep getting hand-me-downs.”

Abby looked out the floor-to-ceiling window that spanned the entire length of the back wall. Charlie noticed how the natural light coming in lit up the highlights in Abby’s hair.

“Where’s the Vegas strip?” Abby asked. “All I see is miles and miles of dirt out there.” She continued staring out at the view of a never-ending desert.

“The strip is twenty minutes away,” Charlie said. “We’re in Henderson.”

“Why are we in Henderson when we could be in Vegas?” Abby scrunched up her eyebrows.

“One, the hotel is cheaper,” Morgan said, “Two, this is where Mike lives, and three, I’m not allowed anywhere near the strip.”

“You could have told me that before I got all excited about being in Vegas,” Abby said, falling onto the bed.

“I could have, but your excitement makes your disappointment so much funnier,” Morgan grinned, and Abby couldn’t control a laugh.

“We’re at a nice resort with a pool,” Charlie said. “Abby, why don’t you put on your bikini and go downstairs and lie in the sun.”

“Good idea. When’s the last time you got to do that?” Morgan added.

“You’re right, I almost forgot I’m childless!

” Abby jumped off the bed. “No one will splash me, or scream at me to watch them, or cry because their brother bonked them on the head with a pool noodle. It will be someone else’s kids doing all that, and I get to comment on how they can’t control their kids. ” Abby said.

“That’s the spirit,” Charlie said.

“You guys have no idea how hard it is lifting an infant out of the water wearing a soggy swim diaper that weighs more than you do.”

“I’d rather have my nose hairs pulled out one at a time while having gum surgery,” Morgan said.