Charlie moans.
I try to push his hand away, but he’s latched on tight. We’re close—not as close as last night, but still closer than we should be.
“That’s not right. This was my idea. There’s no reason for you to be up all night.”
His head tilts, but he doesn’t say anything. His hand is still firmly in place.
“Uh,” Charlie mumbles from the other side of the car. “If y’all are going to stand here all night, I’ll go back in for another slice of Nonna’s cassata.”
“You drive first,” Wes whispers.
I take one last look at my grandparents’ house, every light blazing, before moving away from him and sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Charlie, in the back,” Olivia says. “We’re driving first.”
“How am I going to control the radio from back here?” he asks as he opens the backseat door. “This is not the trip I was promised.”
Wes looks at me in the rearview mirror as I put the car into drive. “We’ll nap on the way down. And I’ll let Charlie listen to whatever he wants. We’re good.”
Charlie squirms around in the small backseat, trying to find a somewhat comfortable position, while Wes slouches in the corner of the seat and the door. Every time I check the rearview mirror, he’s right there.
Not distracting at all!
I pull away from the curb while Olivia tries to find something other than Christmas music on the radio. She doesn’t have much luck.
“It’s a straight shot down I-49. Watch for cops going through Alexandria. It will be hard to explain a ticket to your dad,” Olivia says.
I nod and try to focus on the road. This is going to be the longest night of my life.
We’re only on the road for about ten minutes before Charlie starts complaining. “It’s too hot back here, and this song sucks.”
Olivia rolls her eyes and stretches the aux cord to the backseat. “Play whatever you want.”
Charlie plugs it into his phone, and within a few minutes, some old, twangy country song blares from the speakers. The rest of us groan.
“What?” Charlie asks. “This is a great song.”
“No, it’s not,” I say. “You have terrible taste in music.”
“You do,” Olivia says to Charlie. “You love those Lifetime movie songs.”
“What does that even mean?” Charlie asks.
Olivia holds out her hand for his phone and he passes it to her. “The ones that could be the soundtrack for any Lifetime movie.” She takes a minute or so; then a familiar tune fills the air. Olivia talks over the music. “See, this one is a rags-to-riches story with a hint of prostitution. It’s about a poor mom and two daughters. One daughter is too young and sick, but the oldest is just old enough and she’s pretty. So the mom thinks the only way for her to get out of the poorhouse is to put on a red dress and find a sugar daddy. Poor Fancy.”
Wes and I crack up.
She skips to another song before the first one finishes. I recognize it the second I hear the words.
“And this one is a typical survivalist story. If the world ends, all of the city folk are toast, but if you’re a country boy, you’ll survive. Not only will you be able to put food on the table but you’ll use your manners while doing it.”
She skips to another one. “And this one is a typical learn-from-your-elders bit. I mean, it’s literally about an old gambler teaching a young gambler how to be a better gambler. There’s smoking. And drinking. And they’re on a train.”
Now she’s even got Charlie laughing.
“Okay, okay,” he says. “But they’re still really good songs.”
We spend the next thirty miles going through Charlie’s playlist and trying to match overused tropes to each one.
