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“Irene, the scheduling clerk, said they’re trying to line up another driver.”
“Shit, at this rate it would probably be faster to drive to Gainsborough and pick it up ourselves,” I said.
“That’s, like, a seven-hour drive,” Dial noted.
“Yeah, but we could get our stuff in two days rather than waiting around with our dicks in our hands.” Cyrus seemed invigorated by the tactical pivot.
Running through some quick math in my head, I figured if I moved some appointments around, this could work. “I’ll make the trip.”
“Alone? I don’t think so,” Dial said. “I’m going with you.”
Cyrus and I both stared at her.
Just a few weeks ago she didn’t want to be in the same room as me, and now she was volunteering for a road trip.
“What? It’s better to have two people—we can split the driving. And we know Cyrus wasn’t gonna offer. Plus, maybe we could visit my parents while we’re there.”
That made more sense. She wanted to see her parents; it wasn’t about spending time alone with me. But even if she had ulterior motives, I was ready to make the best of it.
“I love the way we brainstormed a problem and found a solution.” Cy was mentally patting himself on the back.
“We?” Dial said.
“We, in the colloquial sense. Because we’re a team.”
“I don’t know what colloquial means, but you owe me and Dial a pitcher of beer after this,” I added.
13
Dial
Ozzie was a notorious stickler for being on time, so ten minutes before five in the morning, my doorbell rang. Heading to the front entrance, I unlatched the screen door, and it released a squeak, piercing the still of the early morning.
“How long has it been doing that?” No hello or how are you—he just gestured toward the door.
“A few weeks. I’ve been meaning to fix it, but with the nursery and the renovations I’m dog tired when I get home.” Stepping aside, I let him in.
His attention still fixated on the entrance, he asked, “You ready to go?”
“Just need to grab my overnight bag and hit up the bathroom. Be right back.”
I took the steps two by two, stopping to collect a forgotten toy along the way. Since it was a seven-hour drive to Gainsborough, we planned to make it an overnight trip. We’d get in town around noon, load up the truck, and head back to Hume same time tomorrow morning. Normally, spending twenty-four hours with Oz would be a hard pass, but I saw it as a test. If we could get through this trip without wanting to strangle each other, then maybe there was hope for a future.
Plus, I’d asked for effort, and Ozzie’s kind gesture showed he was willing to try. What that looked like going forward, I couldn’t say. If Ozzie wanted to win back my affection, his actions didn’t necessarily have to be over the top. No parade down Main Street or a crop duster spelling Ozzie loves Dial in the sky. All I knew for sure was that this time needed to feel different. We’d tried making it work in the past, but it would quickly fall apart because I was set in my ways and he assumed we could pick up right where we’d left off. You couldn’t begin a happily-ever-after from a place of trauma. For this to work, we had to start fresh.
Surveying myself in the bathroom mirror, I tucked a loc behind my ear. I was going for effortless beauty. I didn’t want it to seem like I’d tried, even though my bedroom looked like a tornado had touched down from all the discarded clothes scattered on my bed. Rarely did I fuss over my appearance, usually opting for functional staples, not fashionable trends. While I could probably wear a flour sack and Ozzie would still find me attractive, my hip-hugger jeans couldn’t hurt.
Another perk of this trip was the chance for me to see my folks. If you checked my phone log, you’d see that my mother and I talked almost every other day, but there was nothing like seeing her face and being able to get a hug. Mom was my go-to adult—I consulted her before doing anything. How to wash my delicates, when to let Maple get her ears pierced, and how to handle Ozzie. I thought I’d be unbothered by my parents’ move, but I was nursing a sense of resentment from being abandoned.
When I came back downstairs, Oz was posted in the entryway, swinging the screen door back and forth.
“Will you give it a rest? I’ll fix it when we get back.”
“No need. It’s good now.”
“What?”
“I tightened the screws and hit it with some WD-40 I had in the truck.”