Page 28 of One Wrong Step
Chapter Ten
Jonah
There’s a certain satisfaction in detailing the van. A task needs completing. I complete it. Done. It’s black and white.
Vivian is not black and white. He’s vibrant colors screaming for attention. But he has these darker layers that I don’t know what to do with. If someone had asked me six years ago whether Vivian had any depth, I would have said no. And I would have been wrong.
The guy is complicated. He’s dramatic. Argumentative. A diva. And he likes to play that up. I was just needling him when I asked why he needed two suitcases. But his answer, although plausible, wasn’t the truth. Not completely.
I’m not even sure why I’m suspicious. Is it the way he gave in so easily? Or because I’ve learned to expect it?
I clean the van. It’s mostly dust, with a few spots that need scrubbing. I want the van to shine. Not for Vivian. But for my dad. We went on a few road trips when I was younger. Before my grandpa died. Before mom fucked off for California. Thankfully, she lives in San Francisco, so we don’t need an excuse for not visiting her while we’re in Cali.
Cleaning helps me settle, and when the van is finished, it looks a thousand times better. The gray leather seats are clean and soft from years of use. The carpet is worn but no longer dirty. There are a few stains that wouldn’t come out, but the exterior shines. And sure, it’s old with two hundred thousand miles on it, but it no longer looks like it’s going to fall apart.
I drive back to the farm, avoiding as many gravel roads as I can. It’s impossible to miss them all. When I pull up the drive, Dad and Carolynda are walking to his Ford Taurus.
I jump out to catch them before they leave. “Hey, Dad. I finished detailing the van.”
He smiles absently. “Thanks, Jonah. It looks great.”
Disappointment churns in my stomach. Jealousy is stupid, so I try to avoid it. I want my dad to be happy.
But I also worked my ass off on the van because I know this trip is important to him. Is it wrong to want a little more enthusiasm? It feels wrong. As if I shouldn’t want attention for doing the right thing. That’s more Vivian’s style.
“You haven’t even seen the inside,” I say lamely. Jesus. What is wrong with me?
Dad stops with his hand on the door handle. “I’ll check it out when we get back, okay?” He shares a look with Carolynda, and I have no idea what that means.
I can’t stop myself from asking, “Where are you headed?”
“Store,” Carolynda says.
“Doctor,” my dad responds at the same time. They share an almost panicked look.
What the hell? “Which is it?” I try to keep my voice even.
Dad laughs. “It’s both. Carolynda has a doctor appointment, and then we’re going to the store to get some last-minute things for the trip.” He grips the door handle but doesn’t open it. “Are you packing the van tonight or tomorrow morning? Since we’re getting up so early and all, tonight might be better.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask Carolynda.
“Everything’s fine.” Her smile seems genuine. “Just a routine checkup.”
They leave quickly after that, and I watch them until the Taurus is no longer visible. What the hell is going on?
Should I mention anything to Vivian? What would I even say? My dad and your mom are being super weird?
As I head through the foyer, I hear the click of Vivian’s shoes on the stairs. How is it that I recognize that sound so easily?
He’s on his phone and already halfway down the stairs when he notices me. He stops.
“Van’s done,” I say, expecting him to nod and move on.
Instead, he jogs the rest of the way down. “Let’s see it.”
“Really?”
“I’m not waiting until the ass-crack of dawn to see if this thing is fit to ride in.”
