Let Your Heart Drive (3 page)

I feel that smile creeping through the phone again as he questions, “You’re sure that you are okay with this? You can handle a Hybrid, can’t you?”

“Oh, yeah, if you only knew, I think can handle more than that.” That put a pause in his voice. He may be stifling his hysterics, I’m not sure. But I’m blushing from head to toe and he can’t even see me. My ears burn from my alarming senseless outburst and I rush out trying to sound lax, “Hey Trey, you still there?”

“I am, Sin, yeah, um, is there anything else I can help you with this evening?” His voice has gone back into an automatic tone, more professional again and I’m not exactly sure why, but it does. Maybe his boss is right there breathing down his neck or maybe I’ve stepped over the line with him. Either way I try not to take it to heart or too serious, I shrug it off. I can’t let anything get to me and bring me down, not now.

So I give it back. “Um… Trey, I have one more thing, when will this fine piece of machinery arrive?”

“Quick towing gave me an estimated time of arrival of about five hours.” Silence elapses for a few seconds between us.

I can’t help but giggle and crack back, “You really mean to tell me that ‘
Quick
Towing
’,” I actually make air quotes with my fingers as I say it, “will take
five
hours
? Okay, if that’s the best you’ve got, I’ll take it.” I’m just giving him a hard time and maybe I kind of like the sound of his tone when he snickers at my comments. It’s deep and throaty, but under his bravado I can tell he’s wanting to say so much more.

“I will personally track their progress and let you know if anything changes.” Trey’s voice shifts part of the way back to his casual tone.

“Your dedication is duly noted. Thank you Trey.” I press the button ending our call and plug the phone into the charger and get ready to take a shower.

“I think I am, therefore, I am. I think.”

–George Carlin

I love Cool
Ranch Doritos. The bag I have lays empty next to me on the bed as Casablanca plays on the flat screen. I love that movie too. I guess if I have to wait for a new car then Cool Ranch and Humphrey Bogart is the way to go. I love how Rick is this tough guy, but when no one is looking, shows he really has a big heart. And all he wanted was to be loved by
her.
It’s getting to the part where Rick is so heartbroken and drunk,
oh—man is he drunk
. I glance at my phone a few times during the movie, it’s almost eleven at night and I’m wondering about Trey and my new car when the display lights up with one word on the screen, “roadside”.

“Hello roadside, how are you tonight?” I say and then wait for a second.

“Hi, is this Sin?” Trey’s voice sounds tired and a little frazzled. I want to somehow cheer him up so I try to tread the unknown, I don’t know this guy from the man on the moon, but I do like the sound of his voice.

“Trey, my friend, how is life in the world of roadside? Where is this world of roadside anyway?”

“Um well, Sin, I’m in… I work in Oklahoma. I just checked on your service and found out some bad news. There’s been an incident. You see, the tow truck with your new car on it was involved in an accident.”

“Oh no, was anyone hurt? I would feel so bad if someone was hurt bringing me a car.”

“No one was hurt, but the tow truck won’t run and they had to send one tow truck for the wrecked one and another truck to get your new car. All of this has taken so long that your new car won’t be there till about eight in the morning.”

“I see, you know I had my heart set on checking out of this swanky hotel in the middle of my favorite movie and drive all night just for the fun of it.  Now, I guess I will have to keep watching my movie.” I let out a fake overdramatic sigh and flop back on the bed just as dramatically.

“Your new car will be there in the morning. They will call you when they arrive and then you can simply swap keys with the tow company.  Is there anything else I can help you with tonight?” his voice softens as he says the word
tonight
.

“I guess you won’t be working in the morning?” I ask openly.

“No, my shift doesn’t start until three tomorrow.” I’m kind of thankful that he’ll be working tomorrow. I wish I could get Trey to talk to me like a person, a real relaxed person and not on this recorded line. I’ll have to work on that, in fact, I sit up in bed. “Hey, can you text me the phone number to this tow company?”

“Um, let me see. I think I can. Let me see what I can do, okay?” he says with humor rolling in that deep throaty voice of his.

“Good, work on that will you? Hey, I gotta go, one of my favorite scenes is coming up.”

“What’s that?” he asks with a loose, curious nature to his voice.

The part is already playing where Bogart slams his fist down on the bar and I repeat it as it carries out of the TV, “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she has to walk into mine.”

“You know what I do?

I steal things. Fuck ‘em.I grab a hand full of candy bars

and six magazines and head for the gate.”

—George Carlin

My dreams are
always so vivid even in black and white. I’m standing on a dark and dreary runway as the rain hangs in the air. I’m dolled up in some fashionable forties clothing, even wearing Ingrid Bergman’s classic hat. Humphrey Bogart stands in front of me. His tall demeanor and captivating eyes gaze at me as he begins telling me I’m getting on that plane with Laszlo. I plead with him to stay, feeling the desperation Ilsa felt as she knows how much she loves Rick. It’s not Humphrey’s voice though, it’s Trey’s.

The deep and throaty voice of Trey says, “We’ll always have Paris…” Tears swell in my eyes and I don’t feel anywhere remotely beautiful as Ingrid did when she played this scene. He tips my chin up with an affectionate tender touch, our eyes collide as he rumbles out, “Here’s looking at you kid.”

The upbeat remix song of Route 66 by Depeche Mode belts out of my cell phone and I take my time answering it. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes and shake the residues of my dream away, I yawn gripping the phone. It’s six in the morning, the TV has automatically turned itself off and the prompt morning light glows at the edge of the hotel’s curtains. I wait for her to leave a message, count a few more minutes before I return her call.

She’s pissed, I know it and I know it will do her some good to vent and nag, but I’m not in the mood to hear it just yet. I get up, drag myself to the bathroom, brush my teeth slowly and pull my hair back and press two. Speed dialing her I bite the inside of my lip waiting for Chelsea to answer. 

“Sinead?”

“Yes?”

“Where are you?”

“In the bathroom. Where are you?”

“Do you know how upset Dad is? I spent two hours on the phone with him last night.”

“Dad was fine when I texted him last night, Chelsea. Are you stirring him up again because you don’t approve of what I’m doing?”

“No, damn it, Sinead, you know I support you, but you never told Dad why you’re truly doing this and you never, not once even, told him about what a heartless bastard Jake had turned out to be.”

“Oh my God, are we dishing out the drama this morning. Do you honestly think that if I told Dad about Jake, he would let it go?”

“No… probably not Sinead, but just so you know, Dad’s well aware now and he’s terrified you’re on this trip running from your problems. And if you want to know what I think—”

“Like I have a choice, you’re going to tell me anyway, right?”

“You should be twice as far as you are now and it’s only your first full day,” she sasses and I can hear her smile. She has always taken the likeness of Dad more so than me, bossy, intelligent, and bureaucratic. But she’s also the only one that does understand me and why I’m venturing the highways looking for adventure and searching for something new, something different.

“Shit happens, Sis. I didn’t make that car break down any more than you did, besides I have a new one coming, and it should be here pretty soon. I need a shower, a cup of coffee and get back on the road, okay?”

“You know we finally agreed to you quitting college and then that entire,
get rid of all my possessions
thing. Now you’re running wild all over the country… What’s next Sinead? Are you going to turn into a groupie for Thirty Seconds to Mars, stalk them until you and Jared Leto are best friends?”

“I’m not running wild, I haven’t even left my home state… and now since you mention the whole groupie thing, it sounds like a great idea. Uh oh…Chelsea, my battery is about to die, I have to charge it before they call me, sorry, Sis, gotta go!”

“Sinead… that’s so wrong, you better call me when you
get
—”

I disconnect with her still rattling on about who knows what. I set the phone on the bathroom counter and finally finish brushing and flossing my teeth. Chelsea and I didn’t always connect like this, or really agree on a lot of things. She didn’t used to be this pestering big sister either. I thought it was the job of the little sister to annoy the big sister, not the other way around.

When we were kids, she would let me hang out with her and her friends once in a while. I always thought that was too cool, hanging out with the older crew and they were all really nice to me, and even though I was four years younger they still included me in stuff. It wasn’t until she hit her senior year in high school that things changed. She married Brett Miller, her high school sweetheart, Brett received an offer to move to Oklahoma. A major metro gas and oil company named Devon Energy, who sought him out for his engineering skills in drilling and refining.

Maybe her becoming a mother changed the way she viewed things, Garrett is the brightest little blue eyed boy I have ever seen. Spoiled rotten just like his mother, but has the kindest nature just like his daddy. Chelsea and I were never neglected when our dad worked his butt off to make sure we had what we needed while we grew up.

Sometimes though, I think Dad overworked himself after mom died to ease some of the pain he hid so well. She was really sick when she was pregnant with me, she struggled with rheumatoid arthritis for the better part of her life, from what I’m told and then eventually the pneumonia doused the rest of her away. She passed away three months after I was born. The only thing I hold close to my heart is an old Polaroid picture of her standing in our front yard with my sister posing for the photo. 

My Dad had a phase with pictures and all the different ways one could capture a moment in time. Chelsea told me he once built a darkroom for his fascination, but he destroyed it after she died. Chelsea remembers everything growing up, me, not so much, it all sped by like riding a Dr. Seuss roller coaster. Some memories are filled with love, laughter and made sense, but others are cocked-full of sadness and made no sense whatsoever. Broken hearts and broken promises, but now I’m about to change all that. 

This trip is about finding what makes sense to me, no matter how much Dad and Chelsea hate it or anyone else. I have to do this, for me. I’ve played by their rules far too long, I need to show my own independence, I want to prove something to myself.

I twist the black elastic three times around my hair, pulling it up high in a flouncy ponytail. Dab a little gloss over my lips and check my phone. No messages, well not from
him
anyway. It’s the tenth time I’ve nonchalantly scrolled through my phone to see if I notice any unlisted name, or a foreign number I haven’t seen before and I get zilch. I’ve already taken a shower, dressed in comfy clothes, beige shorts and a navy blue tank top. I rub a pea size drop of sunscreen on my arms while I wait for the towing company to unload my new car.

While I was waiting on the tow guy I researched online this particular ride. It’s a smaller luxury SUV. Dad’s spoken numerous times about cars, makes, models, and what makes them tick. Knowing the difference between a big block engine and a simple six cylinder has been the main topic over dinner on occasion. Plus, he’s taught me if anything were to ever go down, a crime unfortunately unfolds before me I should always try to get the tag, make of a vehicle, and always protect myself. 

I read on further down and stop at the expected price forty-five thousand dollars to fifty thousand dollars for the V-6 models. Well, this might be the ride of my life considering my jalopy is a faded silver 2000 Honda Accord. I sign the papers that the towing company asks me to — stating that I did indeed receive the above mentioned car and that it’s now in my keeping.

I carefully buckle myself in, plug my phone into the charger, giving it a glance through, still nothing. I’m not desperate and definitely not on a hunt for another boyfriend. I tossed that baggage away three months ago, but I do enjoy Trey’s appealing voice. He has that voice, a commanding yet savvy voice. I contemplate about it as I drive back out onto Route 66. Me as Ingrid and him as Bogart staring me down, telling me something I didn’t want to hear, but the attitude of his, that voice of his makes me comforted somehow. And right now, I need it.

Of course I have my friends from California, but none would take this adventure in stride, they would already configure the GPS system to head back home on the first day. “It’s a sign,” they’d say, rolling my eyes inwardly I pry out a stick of minty gum slip it in my mouth and turn up the music.

I make headway passing the ‘Grand Canyon State welcomes you to Arizona’ sign. It may piss off Chelsea, but I take a detour and follow the road to the Grand Canyon. Dad has taken us here a couple of times on our vacations. It’s not the first time I’ve seen the beauty that encompasses this majestic place. I don’t have the time to go backpacking or hiking, so, I pay my twenty dollar fee for parking and sling my trusty camera around my neck and trek my way toward the skywalk.

I am not usually one to be afraid of heights, but this is my shot to see something extraordinary without cowering behind Chelsea or holding Dad’s hand. The horseshoe shape skywalk extends directly out over the four thousand foot drop off and on top of that the walkway is glass, you can see straight through it. I snap shots as my fear escalates. I put one foot in front of the other and mentally tell myself, don’t look down, shoot pictures, but don’t look down at the monstrous chasm below. I creep my way slowly around vertigo’s heaven when I notice an elderly couple. Both are in their later seventies at least maybe more. The little old woman holds the rail with one hand and her husband holds her other frail pale hand. “Take your time, Lilly. We got all day.”

“You think this is funny, don’t you. Just like a man to get his jollies from a woman’s discomfort.”

“You are the one who drug me out here. Well, I’m here and we are going to walk this out together. Come on, grab my arm and we’ll just stroll through here like we used to do in Central Park on those hot summer days before we had the A/C.”

She looks at him and her grey-blue eyes light up. She stands a little straighter as she grabs his arm with both hands and they sure do just stroll on around, passing me and I’m utterly left behind in awe. I’m not sure what is more memorable, the skywalk or the couple.

-

Back at my car, I click through the photos I like and delete the ones that are blurry or a mishap shot of my foot. Nerves, I have to say, are my downside. I held my camera as tight as I would have held my Dad’s hand, but I do believe he’ll be genuinely proud to see some of the shots I took today. I rummage through my bag for another stick of gum, check the time and head back onto Route 66 highway.

Since the Southern Rim is open all year long Dad had once decided to change things up for us. It’s one of my favorite times we visited the Northern Rim of the Grand Canyon during the fall season, the Kaibab National Forest turns into a showcase of colors. We hiked the eight-mile Rim trail and Dad flat out refused to take the bus back with us to the lodging inside the park. He said he wasn’t tired in the least and I think he was a little disappointed that my sister and I didn’t stay with him. Today, as I rehash the memory, I wished I did.

I drive a few more miles and find a wide shoulder to pull over. I tap one on my cell phone and grin when I hear his voice.

“Sinead?”

“Dad?”

“Is everything okay?” His gruff intense demeanor sheds once he hears me laugh.

“I’m fine, Dad, everything is fine. Hey, wanna guess what I just saw?” He drags in a heavy long breath and sighs loudly.

“The Grand Canyon…”

“Dad, that’s not even funny. Are you seriously tracking me?”

“No, it’s not funny. Your sister is going to—”

“Is going to what, go mad because I’m not there on time? Dad… come on, we have to stop living on pins and needles all the time. Please, I’ve got this. Okay?”

He rushes out an edgy but lighter chuckle, I can just imagine him pinching his fingers to the bridge of his nose half in frustration and the other half trying to release some tension. We reminisce some of the times we scaled the steep strenuous inner canyons and I bust at the seams when we remember Chelsea swallowing a bug and she thought she was going to die. She hacked and coughed theatrically for almost two miles. During my ramblings I note Dad doesn’t comment. My hysterics pop like an overinflated balloon. I’m not sure who started to speak first because both of our assertive voices attempt to grumble out at the same time.