Things I Want to Say (10 page)

“Th-they’re in my purse,” I stammered. I groped on the floorboard for my bag, then dug through it, light-headed and dizzy. Where was the damn license?

Finally, Alice reached in and handed me my wallet and the envelope from the glove compartment with the registration. “Calm down,” she whispered. “It’s just a speeding ticket.”

I shoved the identification at the officer and stared straight ahead out the windshield, clutching the steering wheel as if it was a life preserver.

“Ms. Lawrence, do you know how fast you were going?”

I shook my head. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” A warm breeze gusted in as an 18-wheeler zoomed past. My whole body felt clammy with sweat and I had to keep reminding myself to relax.

“You were doing seventy-five in a fifty-five zone.” The
officer scribbled something on his clipboard. “May I see some identification, ma’am?” he asked Alice.

“You can see anything you like, Officer.” I gaped at her as she gave him a wide smile and handed over her license. Leave it to Alice to flirt at a time like this!

The officer remained stone-faced. “I’ll be with you in just a moment,” he said and left us.

I watched in the mirror as he walked back to his patrol car. The urge to turn the key and drive away was so strong I took my hands off the steering wheel and sat on them.

Alice was watching the cop, too, in the side mirror. “Isn’t he a hottie?” she said. “There’s just something about those tight pants and those boots…” She squirmed. “Talk about a fantasy come to life.”

“Stop it,” I snapped. “There’s nothing sexy about this.”

“Don’t you think?” She grinned. “With those handcuffs and those dark glasses.” She checked the mirror again. “And that gorgeous ass.”

I shut my eyes. I didn’t care about the cop’s ass or his boots or anything but getting out of here as soon as possible. I’d never felt less sexy in my life. In fact, I felt like throwing up.

He came back to the truck and returned our licenses. “Where are you ladies headed?” he asked.

My throat was so dry I didn’t know if I’d be able to answer, but I didn’t have to. “We’re going to Ojai, California,” Alice said. “I’m moving there from Virginia. Ellen lives in Bakersfield and agreed to help me make the drive. We’re taking our time, seeing the country.” She all but fluttered her eyelashes, sending the message that she’d like to see more of him.

He was immune to her charms. “Are you carrying any drugs in the vehicle?” he asked.

“No!” I blurted. Did I look like someone who carried drugs? Me?

“Are you carrying any weapons in the vehicle?”

“No.” I shook my head. I had no idea what Alice had packed in her moving boxes, but I hoped it wasn’t weapons.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“No.” All I really wanted was to be left alone, but I didn’t dare say that.

A second patrol car pulled up behind the first. Apparently we struck the cop as so dangerous he’d already radioed for backup.

“If you ladies would wait back at the car with my colleague, he has a consent form for you to sign.” The officer opened the driver’s door, a perfect gentleman.

I scooted past him and hurried toward the other cop. Alice was slower, sauntering past him with an exaggerated sway.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her alongside me toward the other cop. “What are you doing?” I asked. “This isn’t some silly game.”

“Stop, you’re hurting me.” She pushed me away and rubbed her arm where I’d grabbed her. “Settle down,” she said. “We don’t have anything to worry about.”

I was too shook up to actually read the form the other cop stuck under my nose. For all I knew I was confessing to being a terrorist.

The three of us stood there on the side of the highway and watched as the first cop crawled through the cab. I was sure he was digging through my purse. Belatedly I remembered the condom I’d stashed there in a moment of bravado before leaving Bakersfield. Maybe he’d think it belonged to Alice. She was certainly more likely to use it than I was at this point.

The sun beat down, so bright I had to squint, even though I was wearing sunglasses. Sweat pooled in the valley between my breasts and in the small of my back. I wondered what would happen if I passed out here on the side of the road.

Alice made small talk with the other cop, as if we were having cocktails at a backyard barbecue. She looked content
to spend all day here, while I fought the urge to look at my watch.

How long did it take to search one damn truck cab? Especially one with nothing in it? Unless someone had decided that Kansas postcards were contraband.

When I was sure I was seconds away from either screaming or fainting, the first cop sauntered back to join us. “Everything looks okay.” He had me sign the speeding ticket, then handed me my copy. “The instructions for mailing in your fine are on the back,” he said. “You keep your speed down from now on.”

“Yes, sir,” I muttered, already headed for the truck.

Somehow I managed to fasten my seat belt, start the truck and merge onto the highway at a sedate speed. I took the first exit I saw and pulled into the driveway of a fast-food place and rested my forehead against the steering wheel.

“What is wrong with you?” Alice asked. “I never saw anyone get so worked up over a speeding ticket.”

“I don’t like cops,” I said. “They make me nervous.”

“They shouldn’t make you nervous if you haven’t done anything wrong.”

“It’s their attitude,” I said. “They automatically assume everyone’s a criminal. You heard him, asking all those questions about guns and drugs, searching the truck.”

“Only because you acted as if you were guilty of
something,
” she said. “Honestly, you broke out in a cold sweat the minute he walked up, and your hands were shaking so badly you could hardly open your wallet.”

“I just don’t like cops, okay? Everybody has phobias. The police are mine.”

“Well, it’s over with now. At least he didn’t find this.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out a short, fat cigarette.

I stared, my heart in my throat. “Is that what I think it is?”

She laughed. “It is if you think it’s a joint.”

“Alice! If he’d have found that we could have been arrested.”

“For one joint? Nah, it’s probably just a fine. And he didn’t find it, so it’s all good.” She put the joint back in her pocket.

“What are you doing with that?” I asked.

“What do you think? I’m going to smoke it later.”

“But why?”

“Why? Because it feels good.” She leaned toward me. “Don’t tell me you’ve never smoked pot.”

I shook my head. “Frannie would have killed me.”

“Who cares what Frannie thinks? You’re thirty-eight years old.”

I looked away from her, embarrassed, and at the same time angry with her for making me feel that way. “I never saw any reason to do drugs.”

“Go through chemo and you might think differently,” she said. “When I was puking up my guts around the clock, marijuana was the only thing that saved me.”

“Oh.” I looked at her, touched by the pain in her eyes. “I’d forgotten they use it for cancer patients.”

“Yeah, well, this cancer patient intends to keep using it. There’s too much misery in life. There’s times when it helps to soften the edges a little.”

I nodded, regretting that I’d judged her. “Yeah, well, if it helps you, why not?” I handed her the keys. “I think I’ll run in and get something to drink. You want anything?”

“I could go for a Coke and some fries.”

“Sure thing. Then you can drive for a while.”

“Think if I speed that cute cop will stop us again?” I must have looked as horrified as I felt, because she laughed and punched my shoulder. “Just kidding.”

I hoped this would be one of those things I could laugh about later. They say life’s a joke, but right now I felt like the butt of it.

The afternoon stretched out before us as empty and featureless as the fallow fields that rolled past the car windows like an endless loop of videotape. I let my eyes lose focus until the world around me was a blur of dusty green, gold and brown. It was a talent I’d perfected as a child on endless car trips to distant relatives. Hours would pass while my thoughts hummed like static above the soft pop music on the radio.

Embarrassment over my silly fear of the cop lingered like the ache in my legs after too much time on the treadmill. I was mortified that I was still such a martyr to my emotions. It was a simple speeding ticket, for God’s sake. And I’d nearly had a panic attack.

“I…I’m sorry about what happened back there, with the cop,” I said, after an hour or more had passed without either of us saying anything.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alice said. “People who’ve never been in trouble with the law often have an overdeveloped conscience. At least that’s my theory.”

“Alice!” I stared at her. “You’ve never been in trouble with the law, have you?”

She gave me a sly wink. “I’ve never been caught, if that’s what you mean.” She laughed at my incredulous expression. “Relax. I’m not wanted or anything. I dated a guy for a while who was into some shady dealings—a little drug running, some work for the mob. He taught me the cops aren’t nearly as smart as they’d like you to think.”

“Alice! Did you really? I mean…drugs? And the mob?” This new image of her as a Mafia princess was both fascinating and repellant.

“It wasn’t anything big-time or glamorous, believe me,” she said. “I mean, I’ll admit at the time I thought it was very exciting.” She glanced at me. “It wasn’t too long after I split with Travis. I went through a kind of self-destructive phase,
I guess. After a few months with Stan—that was the crook’s name—I came to my senses.”

“Thank goodness for that,” I said. “You could have ended up in real trouble.”

“But I didn’t. Though I learned pretty quickly I wasn’t cut out for a life of crime.” She made a face. “I didn’t even do anything wrong and I felt guilty. Anyway, that was years ago, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I’m not worried,” I said. “To tell the truth, I’m a little jealous.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Jealous of my foolish relationship with a small-time hoodlum?”

“Not that,” I said. “But I envy how much you’ve done with your life. I haven’t done anything.” In so many ways, I felt as if I’d been standing still since I was sixteen. I’d moved to California with Frannie and had sat there ever since, letting things happen to me, but never taking an active role in my own life. Even the flower shop happened by accident. I’d taken a part-time job, discovered a love of flowers, met someone from the movies who knew a set designer who needed flowers, and the next thing I knew, I had my own business.

Losing weight had been the most proactive thing I’d done in years. And I guess shedding those pounds was really the trigger that got me moving again—away from California and Frannie, out here on the highway, trying to figure out where I really wanted to end up. I knew I didn’t want the same kind of life I’d had before, but I couldn’t yet picture my life in the future.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Alice said. “You have your own business, you own a house. Everything I own is in this moving truck. And I never had a job in my life that paid more than twelve dollars an hour.”

“But you’ve done things,” I protested. “You’ve traveled and lived different places, had relationships with men.”

“What’s stopping you from doing any of those things?”

Her question caught me off guard. For years, I’d used my weight as an excuse not to move out of my comfortable routine of work, food and evenings in front of the television. “I’m thirty-eight,” I said weakly.

“As if that’s old! You have a lot of years ahead of you. Even if you don’t, all the more reason to get busy and live the life you want.”

The idea was as fascinating and frightening as an exotic serpent. “I guess I never thought about it that way before.”

“You’re off to a good start,” she said. “You lost all that weight. You came to the reunion, and now you’re making this trip. That doesn’t sound like a dangerously dull person to me.”

I laughed, the nervous, giddy giggling of a person who’s afraid of heights who finds herself standing too close to the edge. “I guess it doesn’t.”

“The next thing is to decide what to do next. Where do you want to travel? What kind of man do you want to meet?”

“I don’t think I’m going to find a man just by deciding what kind I want,” I said.

“It’s the first step. Of course, all this is coming from a two-time divorcée whose longest relationship outside of marriage lasted eight months. So you should probably take everything I say with a grain of salt.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alice arched her back, stretching, and glanced at the clock on the dashboard. “Check the map and see how far it is to the next town big enough to have a decent motel,” she said. “I’ve about had enough of the highway for one day.”

Salina was less than an hour away. Once there, we found a so-called “budget” motel and gratefully claimed a room. It had all the requirements: two beds that didn’t sag in the middle and weren’t too hard, frigid air-conditioning, enough
clean towels that we could have two each and an in-room coffeemaker so that we didn’t have to go out in public in the morning before we’d had a shot of caffeine.

Alice lay back on one bed, arms out at her sides. “God, it feels good to get out of that truck,” she said. “I don’t see how truckers do it.”

“Me, either.” I reclined on the other bed. “Who knew basically sitting all day could be so exhausting?”

“Thank God you agreed to come with me,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d have made it this far without you.”

I rolled over onto my side so I could look at her and cradled a pillow beneath my head. “I’m glad you invited me,” I said. “I really needed to get away from the shop and everything for a while. I don’t think I realized how much until you asked me to make the trip.”

“Glad I could help.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “What should we do now? I don’t think I could face going out again.”

“We could order pizza.”

“Sounds like a good deal. But it’s a little early yet.”

I checked the clock. It was only a little past five. “So what do you want to do?” I asked.