Chapter 2
I’m embarrassed to admit that I slept almost all the way to Oregon.
Lulled by the vibrations of the car humming through the glass and only slightly dampened by the pillow between the window and my head, it was a light but dreamless sleep, punctuated occasionally by hazy wakefulness.
In those moments, I’d watch the mystical mountain landscape of coastal Northern California through the windshield, the road ahead bordered on both sides by steeply ascending hills and thick, dark, velvety green forests, peering into the depths to where their infrequent patches of dancing, filtered sunlight seductively lured me back to sleep with the false promise of sparkling, romantic dreams.
As we neared our stop at the end of the first day, not quite to the Oregon border, I was awake long enough to entertain a fantasy that, in her zeal to pair me and Ricky off and under the influence of way too many formulaic TV rom-coms, Drea would have “accidentally” booked us into a single hotel room with a single bed.
But she liked her job too much to risk it on a scenario that was as likely to end in a sexual harassment lawsuit as in wedding bells, so we retired to adjacent rooms at a modest motel, where, sleep-logged from the car, I lay awake all night again.
As a result, our second day on the road began much as the first had gone, with me groggily struggling through some initial pleasantries with Ricky before passing out.
When I awoke again a couple of hours later, the landscape had changed; where we had been following the mountainous curves of a four-lane highway, now we were idling at a stoplight in the middle of a town.
I took a bleary look around. “Where are we? Why did we get off the highway?”
“We didn’t,” Ricky said, his eyes locked on the traffic light. “We’ve crossed into Oregon, and this is still 101, but it turns into the road through town here.”
“The 101,” I corrected. “I’m a Californian.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not, and we’re not in California.
” The corners of his eyes crinkled behind his sunglasses as he stuck his tongue out at me.
“Speaking of which, as scintillating as your company has been so far, you might want to stay awake from here on out. The road trip aspect is part of our assignment, after all.”
I felt guilty. He was right; I had been terrible company, hadn’t even tried to help as a navigator or something, and at this point I was putting in an embarrassingly weak showing at my job to boot.
I tried on a weak, contrite smile. “To paraphrase something that someone wise once told me, I can stay awake for the drive home, and it’ll be the same trip, only in reverse.”
He gave me a sidelong glance, eyebrow cocked. “I seem to recall that you were none too happy with me for telling you that.”
“And yet, I’ve come around. But I will stay awake. Sorry I haven’t been a very good passenger.” I tossed the pillow into the backseat in a show of goodwill.
“All good,” he said, dipping into the accelerator a bit as the town receded behind us and the highway headed into its more familiar woodland terrain. “I think you only have an hour or so to keep me company until we reach the first real stop on our itinerary.”
Sure enough, about an hour and a few towns later, we turned left off the highway, down a steep access road through a patch of dense coastal forest to the Rose Beach Inn that’s down one level. The elevator is to your right there. Do you need any help with your bags? I can ask my son—Erik,” she said, turning to the boy behind her, “could you please help Mr. Popp and Mr. Warner with their bags?”
“I think we can manage,” I said quickly, but Erik, still staring at us, had jumped up.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I can show you the way.”
He trotted out to the car at our heels, and I obligingly let him take my duffel from the trunk. “This is a cool car,” he said to me. “Is it yours? I’ve never seen a car like this before.”
“No, it’s not mine, it’s his,” I said, hoping that Erik would latch on to Ricky instead of me.
He was undeterred, staying focused on me as we passed back through the lobby and waited for the elevator. “So are you really a writer?”
“Yes, I am, and he’s a photographer.”
“I want to be a writer, too,” Erik confided, still ignoring Ricky. “I’m on a gap year, but I’m planning to major in journalism when I go to college. In fact,” he continued, shuffling shyly under the weight of my bag, “I want to be a travel writer. That’s what you are, isn’t it?”
Erik led us out of the elevator down the hall to our room and keyed us in.
“Here we are,” he said, still mostly only to me.
He set my duffel delicately down onto a luggage stand, as if it were full of precious breakables, and crossed the room to open a French door to our balcony.
“There’s a sign next to the hot tub that says how it works,” he said, gesturing toward the balcony.
“Let me or my mom know if you need anything.”
“Thank you, Erik,” Ricky said, palming a tip into his hand.
The boy seemed to notice him for the first time.
I wandered over to the French doors to take in the view.
As Ricky ushered our helper out, I heard Erik ask in a slightly awed tone, “Is he your boyfriend? Wow. You’re so lucky, getting to go all those places with him. …”
I waited to turn around until I heard the door click shut.
Ricky turned, too, leaning his back against the door, his hand still on the knob, fanning himself with his other hand and making exaggerated goo-goo eyes at me in a heightened imitation of Erik.
“Ooh, is this your car? Is he your boyfriend? I want to be exactly like you!”
I slumped onto a sofa, wailing, “What did I do? Why me?”
Ricky came and draped himself over the chair next to me, grinning the whole way. “You didn’t do anything. The kid has good taste. On a gap year, though—what would that make him, eighteen or nineteen? I thought you were into older guys.” He waggled his thumb toward himself.
I gave him my driest look. “You flatter yourself. But seeing as I already have my hands full with you, I’m hoping I can avoid him the rest of the time we’re here.”
“Well, then, you’d better hope he didn’t go back to the desk, because we have to go back up to get the lowdown from Mary Alice.”
We dutifully trooped back upstairs, returning to Mary Alice, who was thankfully alone at the front desk. “Is this an okay time?” I asked.
“It’s great,” she assured us. “Like I said, you’re my only new guests checking in today, so I’m totally free. Let’s head into the lounge.”