The clerk’s features crumple and she raises a baffled brow, but doesn’t say anything back and we exit the building.
Camryn plays along once we get outside and start loading everything in the Chevelle: “I say we drive straight past New Orleans when we get to Louisiana.”
It’s not really as hard as I thought it would be to pretend we’re someplace we’re not.
“Sounds like a plan,” I say, shutting my door. “We can drive straight past Galveston, too, if you want.”
“No, we have to visit your mom,” she says. “After that we can go wherever.”
I put the car into gear and say just before backing out, “Doesn’t mean we can’t stop somewhere on the way to Galveston, though.”
She purses her lips, nodding in agreement. “That’s true.” Then she looks at me as if to say, Now let’s get out of here.
* * *
We take the long way out of New Orleans and make our way northwest through Baton Rouge and Shreveport, and eventually over the Texas state line and then into Longview. We stop for gas in Tyler and drive from there to Dallas, where Camryn insists we drop in West Village for a “gen-you-ine cowgirl hat” (her words, not mine).
“Cain’t road-trip through Texus without dressin’ like ah Texun!” she said just before I agreed to take her.
Personally, I don’t do cowboy hats or boots, but I have to say it looks good on her.
And we stop off for a night at La Grange, where we have a few drinks and watch a great country-rock band play. And the next night we hang out at Gilley’s, where Camryn rides El Torro the mechanical bull, of course, with that sexy cowgirl hat on. And later, when we go back to our hotel, being the horny bastard that I am, I pretend I’m the mechanical bull and let her ride me. Wearing the cowgirl hat, naturally.
Two days later, we find ourselves about an hour from Lubbock, broke down on the side of the highway with a blown tire. I guess I should’ve checked out all four of the tires back at that gas station in Tyler.
“This is f**ked up, babe,” I say, squatting down next to the shredded rubber. “I don’t have another spare.”
Camryn leans against the side of the car, crossing her arms over her chest. Sweat glistens on her face and the skin above her br**sts. It’s hot as hell out here. There’s not a tree or a structure of any kind for miles. We’re surrounded by an almost completely flat, barren landscape of dirt. It’s been a long time since I was this far west in Texas, and I’m starting to remember why.
I stand up straight and hop on the hood of the car. “Let me see your phone,” I say.
“Gonna call a tow truck?” she asks after reaching in the front seat to get it and placing it in my hand.
I run my finger over the touch screen, flipping two pages to find her Yellow Pages app. “It’s the only thing we can do.” I type in “tow trucks” and scroll the results before choosing one.
“I hope this one actually shows up this time,” she says.
The tow service answers, and while I’m talking to the guy, telling him what size tire I need, I notice Camryn lean into the backseat through the open window and emerge with that sexy cowgirl hat on, likely to help keep the beating sun off of her.
She moves around to the hood and jumps up on it next to me.
“OK, thanks, man,” I say into the phone and hang up. “He said it’ll be at least an hour before he can get here.” I set the phone on the hood and grin over at her. “Y’know, all you’d have to do is cut that pair of jeans in your bag into a pair of Daisy Dukes, take off your bra and just wear the tank top, and you could—”
She puts her finger on my lips. “No way,” she says. “Don’t even think about it.”
We sit quietly for a moment, looking out at the nothingness that surrounds us. It feels like it’s getting hotter, but I think it’s more due to sitting directly in the sun on the hood of a black car that’s soaking up the heat like a sponge. Every now and then a nice breeze brushes our faces.
“Andrew?” She takes her hat off and places it on my head, then lies down with her back against the windshield. She fixes her hands behind her head and draws her knees up. “Number five on our list of promises: if I die before you, make sure I’m buried in that dress we bought at the flea market and without shoes. Oh, and none of that eighties blue eye shadow stuff or drawn-on eyebrows.” Her head falls to the side and she looks at me.
“But I thought that was the dress you wanted to marry me in.”
She squints, turning her eyes away from the sun. “Yeah, it is, but I want to be buried in it, too. Some believe that when you die, your afterlife is reliving the happiest moments of your life. One of mine will be the day I marry you. Might as well take the dress with me.”
I smile down at her.
I take the hat off and lie next to her, pressing my head close enough to hers that I can prop the hat over both of our heads to help keep the sun off. After I get it balanced I say, “Number six: if I die before you, make sure they play “Dust in the Wind” at my funeral.”
She glances over carefully so the hat doesn’t fall away. “Are we back to that again? You’re starting to make me hate a perfectly good classic, Andrew.”
I laugh lightly. “I know, but I saw an episode of Highlander when his wife Tessa died. They played that song in the background. I’ve never been able to get it out of my head since.”
She smiles and reaches up to wipe sweat from her brow.
“I promise,” she says. “But since we’re on the topic, I’d like to add number seven. Have you ever seen Ghost?”
I glance over briefly. “Well, yeah. I guess everybody’s seen that movie. Unless you’re sixteen. Shit, I’m surprised you’ve seen it.” I nudge her with my elbow.
She laughs. “That was my mom’s doing,” she admits. “Ghost and Dirty Dancing I’ve seen about a hundred times. She had a thing for Patrick Swayze, and I was the only girl around growing up she could talk to about how handsome he was. Anyway, so you’ve seen it. Number seven: if anyone ever kills you, you better come back like Sam and help me find your killer.”
I laugh and shake my head, accidently knocking the hat off momentarily. “What is it with you and movies? Never mind. Yeah, I promise I’ll come back and haunt your ass.”
“You better!” she laughs out loud. “Besides, I know I’ll be like those people who think their loved ones are still around after they’ve died. Might as well give me more reason to believe it.”
Not sure how I’ll pull that off, but whatever. Hell, I’ll try.
“I’ll promise, if you will,” I say.
“As always,” she says.
“Number eight,” I go on, “don’t bury me where it’s cold.”
“Fully agreed. Me either!”
She wipes more sweat from her face and I lift away from the hood, reaching out my hand to her. “Let’s sit inside, out of the sun.”
She takes my hand and I help her down.
Two hours later, the tow truck still hasn’t showed up and it’s starting to get dark. Looks like we’ll get to watch the sunset together over the barren Texas landscape.
“I knew it,” Camryn says. “What the hell is it with the tow trucks?”
And just when she says that, a set of blinding headlights comes down the highway toward us. Overly relieved, we get out to meet him and the first thing I notice is the same thing Camryn notices. The guy could be Billy Frank’s doppelgänger. She and I glance at each other, but we don’t comment out loud.
“You need a tow or a tire?” he asks, thumbing the straps of his denim overalls.
“Just the tire,” I say as I follow him around to the back of his truck.
“Well, I don’ have much time to stay here while ya change it,” he says and then spits chewing tobacco on the road. “You two’ll be all right?”
“Yeah, we’ll be fine,” I say. “But wait one second.” I hold up my finger and lean into the car to turn the key. When the engine starts without a problem, I shut it off and walk back over to him. “Just wanted to make sure it started.”
I pay the doppelgänger and watch his truck’s brake lights fade into the darkening horizon as he drives away. When I walk back to the car where I left the tire, I’m shocked as hell to see Camryn already lifting the car up with the jack.
“Hell yeah, that’s my girl!”
She smiles up at me, but keeps on working at it, that blonde braid draped over one shoulder.
“It’s not so difficult,” she says, now rolling the new tire over after managing to get the lug nuts off the old one by herself. I think I’m getting a hard-on. No, wait, I’ve definitely got a hard-on.
“No, it really isn’t,” I finally reply, my smile getting bigger.
Several minutes later, she’s letting the car back down and tossing the jack into the trunk. I lift the old tire for her and throw it back there, too.
We get inside and just sit here.
It’s so quiet. Enormous streaks of pinkish-purple and blue cirrus clouds are cluttered together in the sky, stretching far over the horizon. As the heat of the day wears off, the mild breeze of approaching nightfall funnels through the opened car windows. The sunset is beautiful. Honestly, I’ve never paid much attention to one before. Maybe it’s the company.
And I’m not sure what’s happening right now between us, but whatever it is, we’re so synced with each other that we both share it. I look at her. She looks at me.
“Are you ready to go back?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She pauses, looking toward the windshield, lost in thought. Then she turns back to me, more sure now than she was just seconds ago. “Yeah, I think I’m ready to go home.” She smiles.
And for the first time since I left Galveston on my own that day, or when Camryn boarded that bus in Raleigh that night, we finally feel… fulfilled.
Camryn
32
I guess we really did come full circle. But I have to say, now that we’re finally back in Galveston after seven months, it feels different this time. I’m not worried about being here, or afraid that mine and Andrew’s time together is going to end. I’m not waiting for a medical tragedy to rear its ugly head at any given moment. It feels good to be here. And as we pull into the parking area of his apartment complex, I feel a sense of satisfaction. I can even picture myself living here. But then again, I can also picture myself living in Raleigh, too. I guess what this means is that maybe we are ready to settle down. Just for a little while. Never forever, like I told Andrew before, but long enough that we can recuperate from being on the road.
Andrew agrees. “Yeah,” he says grabbing our bags from the backseat. “Y’know what?” He drops the bags back in the same place and looks over the top of the roof at me.
“What?” I ask curiously.
His eyes are smiling. “You’re right about not wanting to be on the road so long that we get tired of it, or staying fixed in one place for too long for the same reason.” He pauses and stretches his arms over the roof of the car. “Maybe if we only travel in the spring or summer, leave the fall and winter for living at home and doing the family thing during the holidays—my mom was pretty upset that we didn’t spend Christmas or Thanksgiving with her.”