“I didn't hear or see her come in,” Mark said.“She's scary.I'm not sure in a good way.”
“Daddy, you don't even know the half,” he said.“Let's get started.”
Chapter 4-Stopping
The drive to Sour Grapes’home in Mendota Heights, Minnesota would take at least nine hours if Helen drove nonstop.Initially, she pondered the possibility of seeing her mother since she was passing through Chicago, but the weirdness of her life left no room for Anita Barnes or her little gold toothed live-in named Waldo.Another time perhaps, although at some point Helen should call to check in on her; it is what they did.Helen's interactions with her mother were simply that, an interaction which did in fact check the box of the two women having spoken.It was more than Aunt Stephanie had gotten from Abigail in nearly twenty years.
The current travel path away from Chicago would cut off an entire fifteen minutes if instead, she drove I-74 through Bloomington, taking I-39 into Rockford and hitting I-90 right around Janesville.Mustang preferred she take this route and stay the night with Bad Apple and the boys to prevent her being on the road alone for such a lengthy period.
“You can rest up, spend time with the guys, and then in the morning, refreshed, drive the last four to wherever the sun stopped shining in Minnesota,” he said.“It's like negative twenty or some shit up there.Do I need to buy you a fur coat lined in fur along with boots lined in fur?Seriously, that kind of cold, if you had a nut sack, it would freeze clean off.”
“Nice imagery, thanks.I purchased heavy winter clothing for the trip,” she said.“For some reason, I'm not looking forward to this one.”
“If Bad Apple has any intel on her, get it from him, and if not, just do that thing you do,” he said, offering a wistful smile.
“That thing I do?”Helen asked, wondering what he was talking about.
“Start a conversation with her over something you see, she gets comfortable and then tells you about the one time she thought it was a fart, but turned out to be something else, she was mortified, the date ended early, and she will never eat refried beans again,” he said, nodding his head.“That kind of thing.”
“That entire analogy has mortified me,” she told him, thinking how handsome and hunky he was.“Jay, did that happen to you?”
“Baby, I think that has happened to everyone at one point in their lives,” he said, scowling.“I will never confirm nor deny it happened to me on my first date with Eliza Cole, driving the first Mustang I ever owned, which had beige cloth seats.I also, to this day, will not eat refried beans.”
“I learned something new about you today.”
“You also learned that I worry about my wife,” he said, feeling the rise of emotions in his wheelhouse of manliness.“Be safe on the road, Helen.”
“Roger that,” she said, laying in a course for Janesville.To ensure the Bad Apple would be home, she called ahead, asking if it would be okay to stay the evening.He was happy to oblige but had little to no information to add on Sour Grapes outside of her dislike of people, especially interacting with them in person, online, and in general.
She arrived at the home to find Stephen out for the evening at a cooking class.Jeffrey had a date.Ricky, she learned, was currently in Ohio to see about his Mama and would return by the end of the week, leaving Apple home alone with Oscar.She immediately noticed a change in the boy.
Oscar, extra happy to see her, pulled Helen to the side.“Aunt Helen, you need to call and let my Daddy know you arrived in one piece.”
He said it and started to laugh.Helen didn't know the child had a sense of humor, and he pushed the envelope.“Maybe when you call him, let him know you made it, and in the background, I yell out, Aunt Helen, are you talking to my Daddy?”
Helen tried to hide her amusement at the child, refusing to go along with his antics, but later she would replay the jest with Mustang.She was also surprised to learn from the Bad Apple that the boy hadn't stopped talking about Mustang, and before going to bed, Oscar sat at her side.From his pocket, Oscar pulled out a lump of folded bills, as if he'd been saving the money for something special.
