He Started It(18)

“Because when I told him, he said he already knew they were in the parking lot. He had seen them.”

I take this in while trying to decide between the salt-and-vinegar chips and the low-sodium popcorn. I grab both and decide Eddie may have lied to me. He’s lied before and no doubt he’ll lie again. Maybe this time it’s for a good reason.

“He’s probably trying to calm everyone down,” I say. “Makes sense to me.” I move on to a row of coffee machines. These are the newer ones that spit out dollops of flavored sauce and I pick the one with the most sugar. Krista is right on my heels.

“But that’s weird, right?” she says.

“Weird that Eddie lied to protect us? No.”

“Not that,” she says, grabbing a few waters from the refrigerated shelves. “Isn’t it weird that you’re the only one who hasn’t seen the truck?”

When she puts it that way, yes. It’s a little weird, but I haven’t seen it.

Maybe because I’m too busy looking for someone else.

“I’ve probably been sleeping at the wrong times,” I say to her. “That’s why I’ve missed it.”

“Maybe.”

As soon as I have a chance, I send Eddie a text.


How well do you know your wife?



Is that mean? Maybe a little.

That’s the thing about siblings. There’s always a payback for something they did, no matter how old it may be. And Eddie has done a few things.

We get back on the road and Eddie glares at me in the rearview mirror. I ignore him. If he lied to me, he deserved that text. If his wife lied, he needs that text. Either way, I’m right.

He knows I was right last time, too. I was right about Grandpa.



* * *



–––––

It came to me all at once, like lightning had struck my brain. Not long after we saw Grandpa’s cell phone and all those missed calls from our parents, I turned to Eddie and said, “We aren’t supposed to be here.”

It was late at night. We were all crammed into another motel room and everyone was asleep except Eddie and me.

“We aren’t supposed to be where?” Eddie said.

“On this trip. With Grandpa.”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

I leaned in close and whispered faster. “Why else is he lying about having a phone? Why are Mom and Dad calling so much?”

“Because they worry about everything.”

“And,” I said, “he never leaves us alone. Never.” I pointed to Grandpa’s cot. He always set it up in front of the door.

“That’s so no one can get in,” he said.

“Or out.”

“You’re crazy. You sound just like—”

“Haven’t you heard the way Mom sounds like she’s about to scream every time we talk to her?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I guess.”

I didn’t convince Eddie that night. It took a while for him to even consider that our grandfather had just taken us. To be honest, I never would’ve considered it if it hadn’t been for Grandma.

She died about six months before the trip. Ever since then, we saw Grandpa all the time. Sometimes he was at our house when we got home from school. He stayed late into the night, to the point where Mom and Dad started whispering about who would tell him to leave. Once in a while he slept in the attic room above mine. I’d hear him scream in the middle of the night, but they weren’t scary screams. It didn’t sound like he was screaming at someone; it sounded like he was having nightmares. A couple of times I heard him yell our grandma’s name. He wasn’t taking her death well.

Every time I think about that, I have to force myself to stop. So I pick up my phone, open Instagram, and check up on him. He keeps me focused on what I really want, and why I’m really here. The rest is just noise. It always has been.





KANSAS


State Motto: To the stars through adversity Kansas is big and flat, or at least it feels that way. The hills are few and far between, so are the towns and the people, and it feels like we’re driving in a loop.

“Did you know Dodge City is called the Queen of Cowtowns?” Felix says, reading from his phone.

“I did not,” Eddie says.

“Why would I know that?” Krista says.

“This says it’s the quintessential Old West town,” Felix says.

In the back seat, Portia is turned away from us. She’s staring out the back window, phone in hand, waiting to catch that truck. “The only thing I remember is the museum,” she says.

That’s where we’re headed. The museum.

“The Boot Hill Museum?” Felix says, still reading off the site.

Not that one.

I tap Felix on the arm, nodding to his phone. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

He doesn’t look happy as he puts it away.

“Krista,” I say.

She turns, her face half-covered by one of Eddie’s baseball caps. The sun is strong in Kansas. “Yeah?”

“I just realized you’re the newest one to the family and we haven’t played the Twelve with you.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about that,” Portia says. She’s still facing backward, watching the road.