“Dad palms the top of my car, causing an echo to bounce around inside. “No, sweetie, no you’re not. I know you don’t have a thing for strapping young men with chiseled jaws and lifetime memberships to the gym that Planet Fitness sendsgluttonsto.”
“Exactly, I prefer the guys cleaning the toilets at McDonalds,Daddy.”
Rolling his eyes at me, Dad leans back in through the window and kisses me on the forehead. “Call me when you cross into every new state until you get there. Oh, and don’t get pregnant, and don’t come home married or something because you found theperfectguy.”
I lift my phone from the cup holder, making sure I haven’t forgotten it like I always do. “I can’t get pregnant if I’m not even looking at guys this summer,” Itellhim.
“Yes, you can. I’ve heard of it happening before. It only takes one moment ofweakness...”
“Dad, I’ll be fine,” but I’m fully aware that I have a horrible track record of not being fine. “Don’t worry. I have crossed good-looking guys off my to-do list forever,” Itellhim.
He clears his throat and lifts a brow. “To-dolist?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Thank God I have Shermanator. He fixes most of my dating issues anyway. If only he would cuddle after ... “You can trust me,” says the girl who dated a douchebag that trashed our house during a keg party the one weekend my dad had to work an overnight shift. He peed on our couch, stained three carpets and broke two windows, but I still loved him because I’m stupid, naive, and blind. The threesome threw me for a loop, though. Dad doesn’t know about that part, which is probably a good thing since he’s still not over the whole peeing on the couch bit, but I've finally learned mylesson.
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” he says in his fatherly tone. I know, it’s every penis walking around out there that he doesn’ttrust.
Avoiding his favorite line about walking penises, I let out the first, “I love you, Dad-d-d-d,” and place my hands on tenandtwo.
With the vision of a car in my rearview mirror, I pause with curiosity, but Dad pulls his head out from my window and kicks the front tire. “Go, get out of here before my woman realizes I'm old enough to have a daughter who just graduatedcollege.
“Oh God, Dad.” She must have gigantic boobs or something.Lovely.
“I love you, sweetie.” Dad takes a few steps back and waves me off. “Oh, and don’t trust the penises walking around!” It’s the last thing I hear as I drive off into the sunset toward penisville ... I meanMaine.
Almost there.I Just need to stay awake a little longer. If feels like I may be asleep, but my eyes are still open, and I can still see the road. My head is bobbing a little, but—no! I can't pull over now. I'm so close. Focus, Julia, come on. Wake the hell up. I slap the side of my face, trying to knock myself out of this partially comatose state I'm falling into, but it doesn't seem to do the trick. I open all the windows, feeling a coastal chill run down the length of my arms, then turn the AC on full blast and crank Carrie Underwood up to the highest volume. The irony of listening to her sing “Jesus Take the Wheel” is what pulls me from most of the haze, and I chuckle tomyself.
I glance down at the GPS for the millionth time and find my exit is only three miles away. I can do this. I slap the side of my face a few more times for good measure, just to make sure I don't fall back into my zombie-like state and drive offtheroad.
As I become more aware of my surroundings outside of the straight path I'm focused on, I sense a pair of eyes staring at me from the next lane over. Instinctively, I glance to my left, finding an older man looking at me with bewilderment—as if I'm crazy. Ha. And Dad was so worried about me looking at men, specifically truckers, in the next lane over that he didn’t consider they’d want to avoid me because they think I’m alunatic.
“What? Haven't you ever seen a person slap themselves awake on the road?” I shout through my open window into his. I don't know if he heard me, but, God, cut me some slack, old man. I suppose maybe he's giving me a look because of the “Jesus Take the Wheel” song he might have heard. In any case, I'm awake now, so clearly, it allworked.
“In one mile, take exit seven,” Siri speaks formyGPS.
ThankGod.
After seventeen hours of driving, one seedy hotel room with a peephole in the shower, four sketchy gas stations, a sticky bun, two coffees, five Taco Bell tacos, three bags of Doritos, four bottles of Mountain Dew, fifteen calls from Dad, and five calls from Jade who’s waiting for me in a town called Ogunquit, I’ve made it to my exit.Awake.
Knowing I’m less than a few miles away from the hotel I’m supposed to stay at tonight, I grab my phone from the cup holder. “Siri,callJade.”
“Calling, booty shaker's cell.” Jade. I completely forgot she changed her name in my phone before she left last month. I haven't had Siri dial her yet, but hearing it out loud makes me smile with excitement to see and squeeze her in a few minutes. This is the longest we've been apart since we became friends a millionyearsago.
The phone rings twice before she picks up in a fit of laughter. “Jules!” I hear a roar of people around her, and it sounds like she’s out somewhere, which is weird since we’ve spoken a few times in the past couple of hours. I told her I’d be arriving around eight tonight, and she told me she'd meet me for a late dinner before helping me find my hotel. It's currently eight on the dot, so who knows what's on heragenda.
“Well, well, if it isn't my bootyshaker.”
“You know it, girl. I'm shaking my booty as we speak.” I can see it now. Jade's signature twerk-dropping-strip-tease—Chip's favorite move. “I’m entering ... um ... York, I think. Per my GPS, I should be there in about ten minutes. Where should Imeetyou?”
“Julesssss,” she sings. Did she hear anything I just said? I know this Jade. This is drunk Jade. Drunk Jade doesn’t remember her namesometimes.
“Jade, where are you?” I ask more sternlythistime.
“Guys, guys, guys ... where are we?” She slurs to whoever she's talking to. Then I hear a bunch of babble in the background, and I’m listening carefully to hear what someone might tell her, but it’s hard to hear any onevoice.
“Okay, okay, we’re at Bumble Bee Bar and Grill. It’s in Ogunquit. If you just stay straight on Route one, you’ll findmeeeee.”
I can picture Jade now, standing in the middle of a street waving me down as she continues to dance. Except, this is a highway, and that’s not agreatidea.
