Once she was released, her insurance would send a traveling nurse to check on her daily at the Woods. For now, I was back at work, trying to distract myself.
“We still good for this afternoon?” Lana asked me as a table of public works guys went out the door. “The road trip?”
“Road trip?” Clark snorted. “Your house is less than two miles away.”
“It requires getting on the highway,” she replied, sticking a ticket. “So it’s a road trip. And we’re not just going there. Finley needs a phone.”
“I have one,” I said, glancing at Ben. The back of his T-shirt, a blue one, read,WE’RE PUMPED FOR NORTH PUMP GENERALS.
“Arealphone,” she clarified. “One through which, say, your closest friend could reach you if it was necessary.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is this the same closest friend who lives in the same room I do and works alongside me?”
“You know, you could needme. Say you’re away from the house and suddenly in crisis. Who are you going to turn to, a total stranger?”
The irony was that this was exactly what she had been, not so long ago. “Hopefully not.”
“Exactly.” She put her tray flat against her chest. “I’m not saying you have to be plugged in to everyone in the entire world. Just, you know, your people.”
I thought of that feeling from my childhood of missing mymom, even if I barely knew or remembered her. It was the solitary aspect of it that stuck with me now, that specific loneliness. An emptiness where something else should have been. Maybe itwaspeople.
Now I moved over to the table where the public works guys had been sitting, taking a rag and tray with me. It was finally slow enough I recognized what had become my favorite Dolly song, “Light of a Clear Blue Morning,” overhead. Lana, counting bills into the register, was singing along.
After closing, we went back to the Woods. There, I used the house phone to check in on my mom, who was scheduled to be released from the hospital later that day. If possible, she sounded even more annoyed at my questions about how she was feeling, as well as curt with her responses. It was clear that this dynamic, her needing me—or anyone, for that matter—did not suit her. I wasn’t much of a fan either. All the more reason for a road trip.
We took the rental car. Lana was, in a word, impressed. “It’s so new!” she marveled as I started down the driveway. She inhaled deeply, then exhaled before doing it again. Personally, all I was getting was plastic and AC, but it was nice she was happy.
At the end of the driveway, we saw Ben leaving the Egg.
“Hold up.” She poked her head out the window. “Ben!”
A van passed between us as he looked up. When he saw us, he waved.
“Didn’t you need to do something at the post office?” she yelled.
It took him a minute. Then he said, “Oh. Yeah.”
“We’re going now. Get in.”
I looked at her. At no point so far had the discussion of this journey involved anyone other than the two of us. And definitely not the guy I’d been making out with less than twelve hours earlier.
“You don’t mind, right?” Lana asked me as he jogged across the street. “If he comes with?”
I shook my head, hitting the button to unlock the back door. When he got in, he, too, took a noticeable inhale. “Nice ride.”
“Right?” Lana turned in her seat. “New-car smell!”
With that, we headed off, soon curving around the lake, passing low cement motels and T-shirt shops. After about a mile, I glanced back at Ben. Although he’d been watching the scenery, his eyes clicked over to meet mine. This was going to be harder than I’d thought. Meanwhile, Lana was immersed in what she had termed “the luxury.”
“I mean, this car doesn’t just have seat heat,” she pointed out. “There’s seat cooling, too! For a hot day!”
“Impressive,” Ben agreed.
“And,” she continued, “Fourairbags. I could hit a tree and live!”
“Not necessarily,” he said.
“My chances would begood, though.”
