Page 5 of A Lifetime of Afters
8-10 inches before morning was a considerable amount of snow to drive through but it couldn’t be helped. If I booked myself into a hotel, I’d have to smuggle Bruce in and risk getting kicked out. Also, I didn’t fancy leaving all my worldly goods parked outside in my car overnight. Especially my beautiful shoes.
I leaned against the kitchen counter twirling my car keys around my finger. No one from home knew exactly when I planned to arrive. I’d done that on purpose, needing an out in case I changed my mind. I brightened. This worked in my favor. When my dad knew I was driving, he worried. No matter that I’d lived on my own for the past ten years. This way I could just call him from his driveway when I got there and tell him to open the door.
I paced back and forth checking my watch.
I’d already run out to the car and dug through my suitcases to exchange my artfully ripped jeans and funky sweater for cozy fleece. I’d been to the bathroom four times. Just in case. I’d checked the apartment from tip to toe.
It was sad really, how little space everything took up in my little car. Two suitcases, one of which was entirely shoes. My hiking boots. Laptop. A couple of boxes of books. The type I used to hide under the bed. A few framed pictures. My jewelry box which held precious little.
And Bruce’s temporary lodgings.
There was nothing left for me to do but wait.
I could put the key on the counter and leave but I’d been burned before. One of my landlords tried to claim damages. I’d never left a key again after that.
Bruce wound around my legs.
“You ready for an adventure, buddy?” I rubbed the top of my foot against his furry chest.
He butted my arch with his little head, rubbed his scrawny body along the side of my foot, then turned and nipped my big toe.
“Ow! Shit! Bruce!” I snatched my foot away from him as he dashed off hell-bent for leather. “Why do you do that?” I exclaimed.
He winked at me slowly.
“You’re so obnoxious,” I grumbled. “I hope you like the set-up I made for you in the car, Mr. Willis. It won’t be up to your usual standards, but it’s the best I could do. It’s going to be a long drive and I need you to behave.”
One bright green eye studied me. “You’d totally eat me if I died, wouldn’t you?” I scooped him up and scratched him under his chin. “Could you at least wait until I’m dead? Hm? No snacking beforehand?”
The doorbell interrupted my one-sided conversation. I never imagined I’d be a crazy cat lady, but I had to admit my conversations with Bruce bordered on the insane.
Leaving my townhome for the last time, I allowed myself a moment to remember the good times I’d shared there with Barrett. I missed him. I could admit that now. Then I got into my car and began my journey home.
Five hours later, I’d made it little more than halfway.
Twice I’d been forced to pull over. Once to wait out a particularly bad white-out and the other to clean Bruce’s litter box. The first half of the car trip wreaked havoc with his tiny bowels. And my nose.
I peered at myself in the rearview mirror. Wadded-up tissue blocked both nostrils, my solution to his eye-watering farts. Zero visibility on the roads made driving horrendous but at least it hid my insane predicament. After I cleaned him and his litter box, I gave him the sedative and he slept. Right through his arse’s regularly released, potently noxious, thought balloons.
Breathing through my mouth, the stress of driving under these conditions, and the blast of air from the heater dried out my throat.
Did farts have particles? Was I ingesting fart particles? Could a person get a lung disease from inhaling cat fart particles? Was that a thing?
I took a swig from my water bottle and crawled along, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. Ahead of me stretched a winding ribbon of flashing hazard lights. A sad parade.
I wondered who headed up of the line. Did they know where they were going? One thing was a certainty: If they went off the road, we were all going.
Every motel along the highway boasted no vacancy, and I thanked God, repeatedly, for the gas stations that peppered the route home. The pile on the passenger seat beside me grew with each stop. Emergency blankets, water, and snacks.
Lots of snacks.
I’d been so grateful for the first one. That coffee I downed in the first fifteen minutes ran through me like Niagara Falls. The bathroom left much to be desired, and I’d ended up peeing in that same coffee cup. Growing up in the country, we roamed the hills, and I learned I could precision pee into the neck of an apple juice bottle when need be.
The line drew to a stop. I let go of the wheel and shook out my hands, flexing the stiffness from my joints. Rolling my neck. Forcing my shoulders down from around my ears.
I would be sore tomorrow. Well, later today. At this rate, I wouldn’t make it home until breakfast.
Needing sleep but knowing it wasn’t an option, I continued on, the bright white of the snow, the reflection of the headlights, and lack of sleep doing a number on my eyes.
