Chapter 17
I held my hair back from where the wind was blowing it around, and looked across the car at Russell.
“I know,” he said into the phone. It was on the console between us, on speaker, since Bluetooth hadn’t even been thought of when this car was built. “I know, Dad. But—”
“I did not give you permission to drive my car to California,” Wylie huffed. “I barely like to take it to the casino! And I have my own parking spot there.”
“I’ve seen it,” Russell assured him. He had waited to call Wylie until we’d been driving on the highway for about ten minutes. When I’d first proposed a road trip—using someone else’s vehicle—it had only taken Russell a beat to process the change of plans before he grinned and told me he was in. I had wanted him to call his dad then and there, in the parking lot of the bus station, to make sure it was okay.
But Russell had shot this down. “It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission,” he’d said. But now, listening to what had been a mostly one-sided conversation with a very displeased Wylie, I wasn’t so sure.
Russell looked over at me and I mouthed, Sorry. He shook his head and mouthed, It’s fine, then rolled his eyes.
“What even gave you this idea?” Wylie demanded.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Sanders,” I said, leaning across to speak into the phone. “It’s my fault.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“No, it was. It was all my idea. I guess I just remembered what you said about that road trip you took? And…”
“Look, it’s just four and a half hours to LA,” Russell interjected. “Nothing’s going to happen to the Bronco.”
There was a silence, then Wylie sighed. “Fine,” he finally said, sounding resigned. “This is what comes of talking up my youthful road trips. I want you to drive the car back by Thursday at the latest.”
“Great,” Russell said, giving me a smile. “That’s—”
“And you and I are going to go to Michigan together.”
The relief that had washed across Russell’s face was replaced by something more complicated. “I don’t know, Dad. I think—maybe Mom? I…”
“I’d like to be there with you. It’s a real moment. Okay?”
Russell let out a breath, then nodded. “Okay. It’s a deal.”
“Good. Okay—Darcy, take notes.” Wylie cleared his throat, then started giving us increasingly detailed instructions about the car. He reminded us that we were driving through the desert, in August, and that we should be careful not to let the Bronco overheat, not to let the gas get too low, things like that. Then he’d made Russell promise to call the second he was back inside the LA city limits.
Then he said goodbye, and Russell hung up and glanced at me. “Sorry about that.”
“No, I’m sorry. Now I’ve gotten you roped into a trip with your dad.”
“Well, it’s appropriate, right? The only reason I even got into Michigan is because of my dad’s donation. And so it’s probably good that he goes with me and shows his face on campus. They can at least get their money’s worth.”
I glanced over at him, taking in the unhappy twist of his mouth, the way he was trying to sound like this was just no big deal, but not pulling it off. “It’s just… I mean…”
“What?”
I thought about it before I spoke, replaying the conversation I’d had with Wylie. He’d never told me I wasn’t supposed to relay it back to Russell. And it just felt like something that he should know. “I actually… had a talk with him this morning. Your dad, I mean. He made me breakfast.”
Russell gave me a look—like he was smiling in spite of himself. “Did he make you a scramble?”
I nodded.
“He only makes those for the most important people. It’s a compliment.”
“We got to talking. About you and him. And I just…” I took a deep breath. “I think that in terms of Michigan… he was just trying to do something nice for you. To give you a gift. To… let you know how much he loves you.”
Russell flushed, his hands tightening on the wheel for just a moment before he released them.
“I don’t think he ever thought you couldn’t do it on your own. He’s really proud of you.”
Russell nodded, still not looking at me. “Thanks, Darcy.”
“Should I not have told you?”
“No,” Russell said immediately, shaking his head. “I’m glad to know it.” He changed lanes on the highway, going around a slow Tesla.
I looked out the window, taking it all in. We were still in the Vegas proximity bubble, because all the exit signs and billboards were telling us about things we could do and places we could stay back on the Strip. I kicked off my Birks and stretched my feet toward the dashboard, then hesitated. “Sorry—is this okay?”
“Fine with me.”
I rested my feet against the glove compartment and looked out the window, taking in the huge swath of sky, the mountains in the distance, the vastness and scope of it all. I was going to trade all this for New England? Church spires and leaves turning and cold winters? “I, like, logically know it’s happening. But I can’t actually believe that soon, I won’t live in California anymore.”
“It is kind of wild that you’re starting school tomorrow.”
“I know. I’d wanted this weekend to be a distraction from it happening, but this might have been pushing things a little too far.”
“Was… I part of that too?” Russell’s voice was light, like he really didn’t care about the answer, but I could see his hands were gripping the wheel hard. “Just—another distraction?”
It suddenly felt like we were approaching something real—something true. Like we were in a giant game of Operation and nearing the electronic sides, about to hear the beep warning you from getting too close. I thought about just saying no, changing the subject, moving on. But wasn’t this the whole point, being on the road, getting more time together? To actually talk about this stuff?
“So I’m in this film club with Didi and Katy,” I said slowly, realizing this was actually the best way to explain what my headspace had been. “Friday Night Movie Club. We’ve been doing it forever. We rotate our picks, to keep it fair. Katy always picks action movies. Didi picks horror or animated movies. And I always choose—”
“Sci-fi? Experimental Danish dramas?”
“No,” I said with a laugh, lowering my legs and turning to face him a little more, leaning against the car door. I took a breath and made myself say it. “Romance.”
“Oh.” Russell sounded surprised.
“Yeah. And when this weekend started, all I wanted was to pretend my real life wasn’t happening—that everything wasn’t about to change. And then you showed up—the cutest guy in the bus station.”
“I mean, thank you? But it’s not like there was a lot of competition.”
I was about to make a joke about Sunburned Bald Guy, but knew that I had to keep going if I was going to get this out. I took a shaky breath. “Do you remember the first thing you said? You said, ‘I heard you were looking for me.’?”
“Ah,” Russell said, and I could see him flushing slightly. “I did, didn’t I? Sorry.”
“But the thing is—I was. You had no idea how much. You were what I thought I’d been waiting for. And then you were so great, and everything seemed so perfect…” I shook my head. “It was like I cast you in my head as the lead of a movie I thought I was in.”
“Romantic hero isn’t the worst box to be put in,” Russell said with a ghost of a smile.
“Maybe not. But it’s also not fair to you. And then when things didn’t go the way I expected…”
“You had every right to be upset. I lied to you.”
“And while I was upset about that too—as you might have noticed…”
Russell laughed.
“I think I was mostly angry that all these things I’d believed weren’t real. And then I was mad at myself for putting so much stock in them.”
“We should definitely blame the movies. And the stories.”
“And the songs! We should blame your dad, actually.”
“No arguments here.”
I shook my head. “And it really is a ridiculous concept when you think of it—love at first sight.”
Russell glanced over at me. He started to say something, then hesitated. “You think?”
“I mean, there’s no such thing as friendship as first sight, right? It’s understood that it takes a long time to get to know someone. Hanging out and eating meals and having adventures and talking…”
“And taking road trips?”
I glanced over at Russell and smiled. “Well, exactly.”
We drove in silence for a bit, like we were both thinking over everything we’d just talked about. “So,” I said as we passed a sign that informed us there would be a rest stop in three miles, and then no more services for thirty. “I think I’m done with romantic movies. At least for a while.”
Russell shook his head. “I bet musicals are actually worse, because in a musical, when two people fall in love, they break into song. I mean, talk about setting a high bar.”
“And I guess there aren’t many musicals about relationships that don’t work out.”
“Seriously?” He looked over at me with an expression of surprise. “Sorry—I forget you’ve seen, like, one musical.”
“Three! At least. Probably. So you’re saying that’s wrong? There’s lots of breakup musicals out there, winning the… musical award?”
“The Tony,” Russell said, his voice patient. “And there definitely are some. The Last Five Years is all about a relationship falling apart. Six, certainly. And Merrily We Roll Along. Passion. Most of Sondheim, now that I think about it. And even going back further, Show Boat, Carousel…”
“Okay, you have to make me a playlist. And then I’ll understand all these references.”
“But you’re definitely right about most musicals centering around love, with usually a happy ending. For the most part, things work out. I’m sure it also gave me a skewed perception of things.…”
His voice trailed off, and I realized I could tell that there was something he was thinking about, but not quite able to say yet. And I knew that if I just gave him a little bit of space, he’d tell me when he was ready.
So I looked out the window, taking in the scenery. There were starting to be fewer signs and billboards, and it was becoming clear we were really in the desert. This shouldn’t have been a shock—I was well aware where Las Vegas was located. But it was one thing to know it—it was another thing to be taking in the vastness of what that actually meant. And it meant desert, on both sides of the car and all we could see in front of us.
“That’s actually kind of the problem with my musical,” Russell finally said. “It started out as a love story. Kind of, um, autobiographical. But then the love story I’d thought I was a part of collapsed. And so the story changed—it turned into a whole mess. I should have started over, most likely. Instead, I tried to kind of Frankenstein it.”
“You mean Frankenstein’s monster it?”
“No, because in this case I’m the mad scientist putting things together that don’t belong and trying to breathe life into a corpse. So for once, Frankenstein is accurate.”
“A Frankenstein musical would be a good idea, though.”
“There is one. It was only ever on the West End in London, though. I liked some of the songs.”
“Please tell me one of them is called ‘Nuts and Bolts.’?”
“I wish. Where were you when it was being written?”
“Well, I’ll add Frankenstein—the musical!—to my list.”
Russell smiled, but it didn’t last long. I watched as it faded slowly from his face. “I probably shouldn’t have submitted it for my applications. I knew there were issues with it. I had other samples I could have sent in, things that were more polished. And I was too close to have any perspective…”
“This relationship the musical was based on,” I said, pulling my legs underneath me so that I was sitting cross-legged—I was really becoming a fan of this bench-seat thing. “Was it with—Olivia?”
Russell glanced at me, looking surprised. “What?”
“Montana, um, mentioned something.”
“My siblings like to gossip.”
“She didn’t tell me any specifics,” I said quickly. “Just that there was some… drama.”
“Yeah.” He sighed, his hands tightening on the wheel again.
“Sorry—you don’t have to—”
“No. It’s… it’s okay.” He took a breath and let it out. “Just—give me a second.”
I nodded, looked out the window again, and four billboards later, I heard Russell draw in a sharp breath—the kind you take just before plunging underwater or getting a shot. “So her name was Olivia—which you know. We were together seven months.”
“Oh.” I hesitated—there was a question I really wanted to ask, but I was suddenly dreading the answer. Because what if they’d broken up last week? What if this whole thing had just been a giant rebound? My stomach plunged at the thought of it—but I took a breath and made myself ask it. “How long… I mean, when did you guys break up?”
“Back in October,” Russell said, and relief flooded through me. “It, um… ended kind of badly.”
I nodded. Montana had said something to this effect, and now, looking at the tense set of Russell’s shoulders, the way his brow was furrowed, I wished I would have asked for more specifics.
“I had thought that things were good with us. But… then I found out she’d been giving out information about my dad to DitesMoi.”
“She… what?”
He let out a short laugh. “Yeah.”
I suddenly remembered the way he’d reacted when I’d brought up DitesMoi. Not to mention all the times I’d looked at it when I was bored or wanted a distraction—using other people’s real lives for entertainment, never worrying about who it was hurting or if it was even true.
“It was when he and Chloe were deciding to separate. And of course I was talking to Olivia about it, because she was my girlfriend and I thought I could do that.”
I drew in a breath. “Oh no. Russell. I’m so sorry.”
“And it sucked because I know my dad and Chloe wanted to do it on their own time, you know? But suddenly the news was breaking, and C.J. was getting called in, and Bronwyn… and it was all because of me.”
“Not you,” I pointed out. “You didn’t leak information to some trashy gossip site.”
He sighed. “Even so. Obviously, we broke up after that.”
“It’s so awful that she would do that,” I said, feeling my stomach clench with anger.
“Yeah. Not great.” He switched lanes, even though I couldn’t see that there was any need to—maybe it was just to have something to do. “So then the musical, which had been all about love, suddenly took a really big turn in act 2. I probably should have just scrapped it, but…”
“What was it called?”
“Crystalline Lies.” I couldn’t stop myself from making a face, and Russell laughed. “Yeah. I know. My dad tried to get me to change it too. That should have been my first clue it wasn’t working.”
I looked across the car at Russell, wondering if he felt the same I had last night, when I’d finally told him about Gillian—like I’d just put down something heavy. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Has… anything like that ever happened to you?”
“I mean, just last week I caught Didi trying to auction off my personal information.…” I was trying to make a joke, but Russell only gave me a ghost of a smile, and I knew it had fallen flat. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t mean about that.”
“No, I know.”
“I meant…” He glanced over at me. “Have you ever had your heart broken?”
I shook my head, suddenly feeling woefully inexperienced. Russell had written a whole angsty (and possibly not all that good?) musical about his ex. And all my actual feelings about my short-lived relationships probably wouldn’t even have been enough for a jingle.
“No. But I’ve never really been in a serious relationship like that. I think,” I said slowly, “I’ve been spending way too much time waiting for my meet-cute, or whatever. And missing out in the meantime.”
You mean like we’ve been telling you for ages?Didi huffed.
I mean, at least she’s getting there now,Katy said.
“Or maybe you had your heart broken a lot earlier.” I looked over at him, confused, and he shrugged. “Heartbreak isn’t always because of romance.”
Just like that, the specter of Gillian appeared in the car between us. “You mean my mom?” Russell shot me a sympathetic smile and a shrug. And for once, I didn’t try to push my feelings about her away—I just sat with the idea for a moment. I’d spent so long telling everyone I was fine, that she didn’t matter to me. Lying to myself and everyone else. Ignoring the giant gash in my heart I wasn’t allowing to heal. “Maybe you’re right.”
“It happens occasionally. Not often, but…”
I smiled. “It’s funny.”
“What is?”
“Just—when we were back in Jesse, I thought it was good we weren’t talking about anything really real. Like how you never know what people are saying in those rom-com montages—I thought if you had to talk about serious things it meant there wasn’t some kind of immediate connection.” I shook my head. “But I don’t think you should zoom past it, really. Like, this is the important stuff.”
“Maybe we’re just getting everything in the wrong order. It’s helicopters before cars all over again.”
I laughed. “I mean, I don’t even know your middle name.”
“I have two.”
“Two middle names?”
“I got off lucky. Wallace has, like, four. Apparently Kenya’s labor was so bad, she said she was never doing it again, so they gave him every name they’d considered.”
“So what are they?”
“Wallace’s?” Russell took a breath.
“I meant yours.”
“Oh—Russell Jennings Henrion Sanders.” He glanced over at me. “And you are?”
“Darcy Cecilia Milligan.”
“You were named after two songs?”
“I mean, my dad says the Cecilia was after my great-aunt. But I have my suspicions.”
“If there was a Layla in there, you’d know for sure.”
I laughed. “Well—thanks for telling me. I really should have asked you yesterday, though.”
Russell frowned and looked over at me. “Why yesterday?”
“You know, because—” I suddenly realized the cliff I was heading for and stopped abruptly, staring out the window as though I was fascinated by the FOOD GAS LODGING sign up ahead.
“Because?”
“Just…” I could feel my cheeks heating up. “Didi has a rule that you should never sleep with someone unless you know their middle name.”
“Ah.” I glanced over and saw that Russell’s ears were starting to turn red.
“Not that we did—”
“We didn’t—”
“But we were, you know. Almost…” I cleared my throat and looked out the window again.
“Right. I remember.” I glanced over and saw that Russell was smiling.
“Anyway!” I said, trying to hold back a smile of my own.
It’s a good policy, Didi said magnanimously. You’re welcome.
We drove in silence for a few miles. The highway was busy, but not so many cars that we were crawling through traffic. We were coasting at around seventy—when a car in the left lane suddenly swerved in front of us, making a break for the exit. Russell slammed on his brakes, sending his phone flying down to my footwell.
“Shit—sorry,” he said, sounding shaken. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said, wincing slightly. I’d just found out when your seat belt doesn’t have a shoulder strap, your waist basically gets bisected by the lap belt. So maybe there were some downsides to it.
I set the phone back on the little shelf, even though that clearly wasn’t the safest place for it. The longer I was in this car, the more it was bothering me that there weren’t any cupholders. What had people in the seventies or whatever done when they got thirsty?
I looked out the window, feeling the sun on my face. I was definitely going to have to dig my sunglasses out of my bag whenever we stopped next. Which I hoped was going to be soon; it was seeming like a long time ago that I had my scramble, and I was getting hungry.
And like I’d willed it into being, I suddenly saw it off the highway—a red-and-yellow arrow, as familiar to me as anything. I knew it was early, but I just hoped Russell would be on board. “What do you think?” I asked as I nodded toward it. “Hungry?”
Russell glanced at it, then grinned at me. “Starving,” he said. He hit the turn signal and pulled off the highway, heading for the In-N-Out Burger.