I don’t give a damn what road trip protocol is.
When we finally reach tonight’s vacation rental house, I’m cleaning out the car.
If she didn’t eat it, it goes in the trash.
But there’s one issue I forgot about.
Tonight’s vacation rental is even smaller than last night’s.
It’s a true one-room hunting lodge in northern Mississippi.
One bathroom.
One single bed.
A chair—not even a couch—and a kitchenette.
We arrive shortly before five, and once again, Daphne pushes me out of the way to run to the bathroom as soon as I’ve opened the door.
She doesn’t talk at me as she pees this time.
And I get even more pissed when I realize I’ve missed her talking today while I was awake.
She should be asking me if I have a thing for staying in places that axe murderers would like. Or if I know how to sleep in a bed that narrow. Or if I know how to cook for myself on a stove like this.
Instead, she takes the lone pillow from the bed, along with the quilt, and makes herself a nest on the floor, and goes immediately to sleep.
Or feigns it.
Either way, she’s clearly telegraphing that she’s not available for me this evening.
I clean the car out, twitching when I find the lottery ticket, which I shove into the glove compartment. I can’t throw it away, but I can’t cash it in here either.
Should’ve dropped it in that kid’s donation jar outside ValuKart on Sunday.
Dinner for me is a leftover glazed donut—it’s wrong how delicious this thing is—and two of the three leftover bags of Flaming Finger Lickies for dinner.
They’re also stupidly delicious.
Two weeks ago, I was having chicken marsala with a side salad and fresh-made dressing delivered to my office for dinner, and tonight I’m eating a donut and hot cheese puffs.
Fairly certain this is what’s meant bygirl dinner. Which is a phrase I only know because three separate people demanded meetings with me over how much they didn’t like that the M2G social media accounts used it as part of a sales campaign for the snack foods available at our convenience stores.
My stomach rumbles in protest, but I’m suddenly unexpectedly happy.
Even with Daphne tagging along—I’mfree.
Icaneat a donut and two bags of chips for dinner. I can havegirl dinnerand screw those assholes who wasted my time whining about it being a thing.
I don’t have to listen to them anymore, and no one needs me to keep my arteries in good shape so I can continue saving the company that my great-grandfather founded.
I pause to stare toward the setting sun. I can’t fully see it through the canopy of leaves on the trees all around me, and I realize I spent all day being so mad at Daphne for somehow acquiring and using a phone that I didn’t pause to appreciate the very thing I’m supposed to be appreciating.
Freedom.
The world I’ve never seen before.
Everyday people doing everyday things the way I’ve longed to since well before I was willing to admit to myself that that’s what those internal cravings have been.
