He Started It(14)

“The Three Corners,” Krista says.

“It’s where Kansas, Missouri, and Oklahoma meet. You can stand in three states at one time.”

Krista looks like she wants to say something about that, but the waitress appears and saves all of us.

The fruit is melon and pineapple, the toast is plain, and it all looks edible enough. Even the coffee is hot enough for me to see the steam. Still, Krista turns up her nose as soon as the waitress turns her back. She spears a piece of fruit with a fork with a bit too much force.

“Anyone see the game last night?” Eddie said, nudging Felix’s elbow. “The Cowboys aren’t half bad this year.”

Krista stabs another piece of fruit.

Portia, never one for unsaid bullshit, rolls her eyes so hard I can almost hear them rotate in their sockets. “I’m done. I’m going to go outside and get some air.”

She gets up and walks out, not mentioning the fact that this is her turn to pay. No one else mentions it, either. I nudge Felix, who I know is keeping track of these things, and he barely nods.

“So what’s after the corners thing?” Krista says. “The Oklahoma bombing site?”

“No,” Eddie says.

I’m done eating and get up to use the restroom. I stay long enough to check Instagram and see what he’s up to, but he hasn’t posted yet today. Still too early for anything interesting to happen, I suppose.

When I return to the table, everyone has cleared out and the table is empty. Felix waves to me from the cash register.

“We have a flat,” he says.



* * *



–––––

A flat tire doesn’t describe the whole situation. What we have is a flat new tire, the one we just bought yesterday. Several thoughts run through my mind, none of them good.

“Defective,” Eddie says. “Must’ve been defective.”

Felix nods.

Krista sulks.

Portia stares at her phone. “There’s a place two miles down,” she says. “Says they’re open.”

Two miles. We’ll have to change the tire again to drive it. Or Felix will have to, since he’s the fastest. He knows this, is proud of it, and goes to the back of the car to dig out the spare again.

“Hey.”

Portia. She’s next to me, walking, leading me back toward the diner and away from everyone else.

“Let’s see if they have coffee to go,” she says.

“Sure.”

The cashier helps us this time. He’s an older man who is wearing a button-up shirt and khakis instead of a uniform. His name tag says “Manager” and nothing else. We get coffee for everyone, even Krista. Today, we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t with her.

As soon as we’re alone, Portia says, “I saw that truck. The black one.”

The third bomb this morning.

“Where?” I say. “Here? This morning?”

“No, on the road. Not all the time, just on and off.”

“You’re sure it was the same one? There’s a lot of pickups around here.”

“I’m sure,” she says. “I saw the driver.”

“So you think they’re following us to slash our tire every day or so? Why would anyone do that?”

She shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”

This time, Portia pays. She pulls out an impressive wad of cash and tips him well. Not broke after all, it seems, or maybe that’s all the money she has for the trip. Hard to tell with Portia because I’m never sure what’s up with her. She’s sneaky like that.





Once again, Felix puts the spare tire on our car and we finally get to the auto repair shop. It doesn’t take long for the mechanic to figure out what happened.

“Nails,” he says.

“Nails?” Felix repeats.

“Yep, two of them. Probably happened yesterday. Went flat overnight.”

We all stare at the mechanic. He’s a young guy who looks like he’d rather be doing anything other than dealing with a flat tire.

“I put on the spare,” Felix says. “I didn’t find any nails in the flat.”

“Here.” The mechanic picks up the flat tire like it’s a tissue and points to the nails. They are small. Easy to miss.

“Wow, didn’t even see them,” Felix says.

The mechanic doesn’t look surprised. When he finds out we’re on a long road trip, he tells us to replace it. “Don’t want a blowout, do you?”

“Absolutely not,” Felix says.

He goes with the mechanic to pick a new tire. Portia is off in a corner of the parking lot, drinking her coffee and talking on her phone. She does that a lot, like all of her calls are so important we aren’t allowed to listen.

Eddie and Krista are in another corner of the lot, not talking. Sulking, maybe.

I send Eddie a text.


Did you see that black pickup following us?



I watch him take out his phone and read it. His back stiffens. Maybe surprise, maybe recognition.


From Alabama? Seriously?


Just asking.


No, I did not see them follow us through three states.



When Portia is off the phone, she comes over and says exactly what I know she’s going to say.