Wanderlust part 22 "Momentos"

Morning, all. Busy day that seems packed full of nothing, but packed nonetheless. Installment 22 is below and I have to say, pretty soon (if this thing follows the long meandering path in my mind) we get to find out a little more about the creamy caramel center of Mr. Johnny Rose.

Happy hump day, y'all.

XOXO
Sommer

Wanderlust
Part 22
by Sommer Marsden

We drove. We ate. We drove. We didn't talk. Gray skies and puffy clouds crouched row overhead and I wished, more than once, that I still smoked. Oh, there were smokes in the glove compartment but I didn't want to go there.

By mid afternoon the skies had opened up and rain pummeled the Chevy, at times switching to rain.

"This is heartening," I snarked.

He chuckled, flipping the windshield wipers to high. "You still pissed at me, Really?"

I considered it. Was I? My natural inclination is to anger and annoyance. If you look short tempered up in the dictionary it'll be my high school portrait you see. "No. I'm not pissed. I'm confused. I just don't know what the fuck that was, is all."

"It was a man acting like a jackass because you caught him off guard." He signaled for the exit and moved over when he had the space.

"Need to pee?"

"Nope. We're done for the day."

"Done!" I laughed. "It's only mid-day."

"Did you want to do the whole trip in a day? It's not really a trip if you do it all in a day. The whole point is to wander. To just go with the day and not run some agenda like a paper pusher."

Chewing my bottom lip I watched fat drops of rain roll down my window. "I guess you're right."

"Trust me, I am. And by the time we get some food, find the cabin, open it up, air it out and all that happy crap, you'll be glad we're not flying down the road in the dark with the rain and the flashfloods and—"

The rain turned to hail and beat the already battered primer gray hood. The car jittered like a person being punched.

"Hail," he finished. He was grinning but kept his eyes on the road.

"Where are we stopping? You said food? Diner food? Grocery food? Conveni—"

"Take a breath, Aurelia."

I did it. I sucked in a giant gulp of air and started to blow it out.

"Hold it, count to four, calm the fuck down, girly."

I counted to four before blowing the breath out like I was the big bad wolf. Neon signs and gaudy car dealerships flew by. Roadside stands with scrambling operators who were trying to protect their wares from the storm. They flurried and fluttered and rushed to control their environment. That's all I was trying to do—didn't he see that?—control a bit of mine.

"I'm okay."

"What do you want? Diner or grocery?"

Now that he said I could choose, I didn't know. Twisting myself into an emotional knot seemed to be a burgeoning talent. Normally, I just tamped everything down till I ran out and banged some stranger. The respite from the anger was brief, but it worked and hey, I got laid in the process.

"Diner?" I said.

"Is that a choice or a question?"

"Diner," I stated this time.

"Good. There's one right up the way. We can eat there and then grab some stuff at the grocery store for a snack later. A real snack. Not a rainbow colored snack made out of fake ingredients. Maybe cheese and crackers, a bottle of wine."

"Good." I rubbed my fingers along the thigh of my faded jeans. On the right leg, a spot was wearing thin. If I kept worrying my jeans like worry beads, I'd end up with a hole. But that was okay. Worn and beaten in things had character. Just look at you, Really.

"You are still pissed," he laughed.

"No, I'm not." I was telling the truth, too. I wasn't mad, but I was confused. However, the issue Johnny was picking up on wasn't anger, it was guilt. I felt so unbelievably guilt all of the sudden. It had settled over me like a wet wool blanket and my chest seized up—my insides smothered with the weight of it.

"What is it then?"

"Guilt," I sighed.

"Guilt, Aurelia Blake, is a useless emotion. It'll suck your soul dry and leave you a shell of your former self. It ranks right up there with should haves, could haves, and feeling like you owe someone something because they chose to help you at any given time."

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about and I saw my chance—that keyhole of a moment where if I pressed my eye up to his life, I might see something that helped me understand. I think he would have answered me if I asked him all the things I wanted to know right then and there.

But I didn't. I let the moment slide away as surely as the raindrops were sliding off the thick glass of the windshield.

"Hungry?" The car shivered when he turned it off. It was old car, it was a cold rain.

"I am starved."

"What do you feel like eating?"

I cocked my head, my mood lightening a bit. I batted my eyelashes at him, flirting. Yes, it was blatant and shameless but so what? "I want a greasy cheeseburger and fries," I said. "What about you? What do you want to eat, good sir?"

I had my hand on the door to get out but paused when he said softly, "You."

That blessed scorching lust rolled through me and I studied his full lips. That pouty mouth. I wanted it on me. His lips, his teeth, his tongue.

A smile broke across his face and he said, "When we've eaten, Snowflake. You get to be dessert." And then he was out of the car and I was trying to catch my breath.

"Name's Claire." The waitress slapped our filthy laminated menus down and pulled out her pad. As clichéd as it was, she scratched through her teased hair with her pencil while we waited. How much graphite was laid on that scalp of hers?

"I want an iced tea while we look."

"Make that two," Johnny said, not looking at her.

She rolled her dark green eyes that were currently surrounded by way too much gray kohl. It made her look older. Her face powder had settled in the wrinkles around her eyes and her lipstick had long ago faded. She looked tired. She looked fed up.

"Be right back." Her white shoes squeaked across the red tile floor as she walked like a woman headed o the guillotine.

Besides on couple in the back and an older guy at the counter, Johnny and I were the only patrons. I found my burger listed and put my menu down. "Number seventeen, sharp cheddar, lettuce, tomato and mayo. Fries." Just telling him what I was going to order had my stomach rumbling.

"I think I'm gonna play copy cat but with American and pickles on that bad boy too."

"Pickles? Blasphemy. A pickles place is on the plate beside the fries."

"Oh, Snowflake, you have so much to learn," he tsked.

I smiled at him. "What's in the box?" I said on a rush of air.

He stilled, his eyes going dangerous, his jaw going taut. "Really." It was a warning.

"What is it? It's killing me."

He shook his head. "Mementos." He turned his menu on its edge and tapped it, waiting for grumpy Claire to come back and save him from me and my prying ways.

"Hunh," I said, feeling miffed. I was pissed and frustrated that he wouldn't tell me. That I wasn't getting my way. Shocking, I know.

My life was a paradox. Mostly, I got whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it. Until it was something big. Say, marriage, for instance. Those things…those things, I rarely controlled. Or to be fair, I wimped out and relinquished my control.

So my father would love me.

Pathetic.

"You don't strike me as a memento kind of guy," I finally said.

"Hunh." He mimicked me. "Funny. You don't strike me as a scared to go after what she wants kind of girl."

"Touché."

"What'll it be, kids?" Claire demanded.

We ordered and while Johnny tied a knot in his straw wrapper and looked vaguely pissed off at me, I climbed out of the shiny red booth. "Be right back," I said.

"Running out the back door?" he asked, smiling a little. But he was serious under there too. He knew I had it in me.

In the small hallway that led to the rest rooms, I pulled out my wallet and found the small plastic calling card. Thank god, the diner was a time machine, they actually had not one but two pay phones. I grabbed the heavy receiver and dialed the numbers on the card and followed the automated robot voice's instructions.

Then: Thank you for your business, your call is being connected…

I heard the click, the line was open and then, "Hello?"

"Jackson?" I said.

"Really?"

"Hi, Jackson. Yeah. It's me."

STAY TUNED
~photo credit...moi! (you were expecting that, weren't you)