With Dom's help,every member of the Hampton family is at the motor home within the hour.
"It's just a little snow," Kerrigan complains, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "It probably won't be enough to make a snowball. You know how the Arizona weather forecasters get about a little precipitation." She rolls her eyes. "So dramatic."
"A bit like somebody else I know," Savage Grandma volleys.
Kerrigan gasps, pretending to be offended. "Shots fired."
Dom and Duke load everybody's belongings into the RV. They are both quiet, their body language stiff.
"It's Cecily's turn to drive," Grandma says when we load into the vehicle.
"Absolutely not." My head shakes vehemently. "I have no intention of driving this thing at all, but especially in snow."
"I'll take her turn," Dom offers.
"Nope," Duke says, domineering as ever. "I'll drive."
"Whoever is driving, put your ass in the driver's seat and drive," Grandma commands, officially out of patience. "There are a few things I'd like to do before I die, and being stuck in snow is not one of them."
Duke takes his place as the driver. Dom and I sit at the kitchenette table, both working on our phones. I peek at his screen. It holds an email with nothing in the body or subject line. The recipient name is [email protected]
Duke nibbles at his bottom lip, lost in thought.
Gently, I elbow his ribs to get his attention. "You doing ok over there?"
With only a few inches between our faces, he lets his eyes travel over me. "Just fine. How about you?"
I nod, letting him know I'm ok. Better than ok. As I laid in bed this morning, waiting for Dom to return, I replayed our middle of the night conversation. Nothing monumental was revealed or said, but I came away with a feeling that was more important than anything else. Strength.
For so long, I thought my parents behaved the way they did in reaction to me. Even if I knew the way they acted was wrong, I saw it as actions that were brought about because of me. Last night was the first time I considered that their behavior belongs to them, and only them. Putting this together was freeing and empowering. I haven't forgiven them because they haven't asked for forgiveness, but one day it might be something I do on my own, for me.
Dom flicks on the light fixture attached to the end of the table. Grandma goes back to the bedroom to lie down, and Rainbow accompanies her. My dad has taken the passenger seat, and my mom and sister sit in the swivel bucket chairs on the opposite side of the RV. The further we drive, the darker it gets. The winding road gives way to towering pines with skinny trunks. We pass a yellow caution sign warning us of elk crossings.
"Snowflakes on the windshield," Duke announces.
Like the snow-starved desert inhabitants we are, everyone is out of their seats and crowding around the front of the RV to seethe sight. Everybody except Dom, who probably views snow as a nuisance after spending so many winters in the city.
"It's so cute," Kerrigan says, wonder in her voice.
I go back to Dom, snuggling into his side. "You don't want to see the snow?"
"I've never liked snow, here or anywhere else."
"I think you might live in the wrong place, Dom."
Dom gazes at me. "I think you might be right about that."
As we drive, the landscape turns into a winter wonderland. Grandma comes out from her rest, peering out the windows in awe like the rest of us.
The snow falls heavy now, in thick, wet clumps. The RV inches along, the visibility going from bad to worse.
Duke does his best, I'm sure, but we are no match for the snow in our giant, heavy vehicle. He guides the RV to a shoulder, not bigger than a small clearing, right off the road.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Dom says loudly, so Duke can hear. "We're going to get stuck."
Duke turns around, glaring at Dom. "What is it you think we should do?" he asks.
Dom motions outside, where the white falls in sheets. "It's probably too late."
