Then she starts making jet pack noises, and that combined with the warmth of her embrace helps lull me to sleep much faster than I care to admit.
I had snuck back out of Elliot’s room about an hour before we were supposed to be up and just rested on the couch with my eyes open, wondering what the day was going to bring. Three states are all that separates me from something life changing. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach as the rest of the people in the house begin to stir. A quick breakfast, a heartfelt goodbye, and we are on the road into the morning sunrise.
Saying goodbye to his mom was difficult for some reason. Her hug was warm and inviting, and maybe it was the way she embraced me and held me like she meant it, but I didn’t want to let go until I had to.
The mood in the car is much lighter today, and it feels like we get through Georgia rather quickly. Maybe it’s because we listen to music and don’t fight. I’m lost in thought for a while, adding license plates. Somewhere between the edge of The Peach State and South Carolina, Cline and I both fall asleep, and Elliot has to fend for himself. I wake up a couple of times when we hit the odd pot hole, and I glance up to see him focused intently on the road, so I drift back off.
Not far from my grandmother’s house, we are all awake, hopped up on sugar and hot boiled peanuts as I dole out an impossible game of Hump, Marry, and Kill.
“Cline, you’re up next. Ready?” I turn in my seat and survey his face as he groans and frowns.
“Your choices blow,” he complains.
“They are scientifically chosen. I’m not just throwing any old name out there for you to choose. Here are your choices: Matt Dylan, Dylan McDermott, Dermot Mulroney, and Rooney Mara.”
“Bite me,” he responds.
Elliot shoots me a grin and laughs silently as he grips the wheel tighter.
“Fine! Fine. Let’s do this. Anna Kendrick …” I offer.
Cline perks up. “Yeah?”
“Kendrick Lamar. Lamar Odom.”
“I hate you with the fire of a thousand suns,” Cline says.
“You flatter me so, Cline Somers. You really do.” I blow him a kiss. He, in turn, pretends to catch it and rolls down the window to throw it away.
The car begins to slow, and all joy slowly fades from my body as if I can feel it leaking out of my veins through my fingertips into the open air. Ruth Dewitt’s mini mansion comes into view, and Elliot almost brings the car to a complete stop as he faces me.
I move my hand to tell him to keep moving forward. “Don’t look so shocked. This is it. You’re in the right driveway. Go ahead and pull up and then just go around the loop and park on the left where you see the other cars. I think that’s where the maids and other people park.” I don’t know this for sure, but it seems like the most logical explanation, because there are old Hondas and a Toyota Tercel sitting there today.
I know that’s not what Ruth would drive. If she drives herself at all.
“We should have dressed nicer,” Cline says from the backseat.
“She won’t let us inside. I don’t think it will matter.” I tell him quietly.
Elliot parks as I’ve instructed and turns to look at me. “Do you even have a plan? What are you going to do if she doesn’t let you in?”
I run my fingers through my hair and wipe at the mascara under my eyes, hoping I haven’t smeared anything. “She’s a lady. The least she could do is let me use the bathroom.”
“Powder room. Say powder room. Be fancy.” Cline is leaning across the console now so he can look up at the top of the house through the windshield. “Holy shit. Too bad she hates your guts.”
“Yep.” I grab my purse and exit the car. Once outside, I rummage around and find the flowered bag within, locate the correct orange bottle, pop the top and slip a yellow pill onto my tongue quickly, then swallow. I should have done it at least twenty minutes ago, but I wasn’t expecting to be this overwhelmed.
Too late now.
The place is huge. Fountain out front in the circular driveway. Full staircase leading to the wraparound porch. Two stories with pillars running the length of both. It’s essentially the cover of a V.C. Andrews book without the seduced cousin staring out of the upper window in a rainstorm.
I count my steps on the driveway and then count the stairs on the way up. There are no creaking boards as I cross the porch, and once I make it to the door, I pause. I can’t believe I’ve actually made it this far. I know I’m crazy, but this is legitimately insane. I should have called Cara first. There is a moment of hesitation where I think maybe I should walk away, but before my brain can stop my hand, it’s raised, and my finger is pressing the doorbell. There’s a booming bell chiming throughout the expanse of the house.