He Started It(21)

Dinner is at a barbecue joint, because barbecue is the only appropriate food to eat when you’re in the Queen of Cowtowns. We go to a hokey place with a plastic cow hanging from the ceiling and faded gingham curtains. Our waitress wears a Betty Sue name tag and I’m 100 percent sure it’s fake.

“I’ve gained weight,” Portia says. “My shorts are getting tight, so we have to stop eating this crappy food.”

“It’s been less than a week. You aren’t gaining weight, you’re retaining water,” I say.

She ignores me. “Tomorrow I’ll find a place for us to eat salads with vegetables instead of fried meat.”

“That sounds great,” I say.

“I’m serious,” Portia says.

“Oh, I know.”

Krista is the only one who doesn’t laugh. Her mood, which had started out pretty good today, has deteriorated ever since the museum. This is not the road trip of her dreams.

“Just tell me,” she says. “Are we going to stop at every creepy, violent attraction along the way?”

“Not every one,” Eddie says.

“But there are more,” she says, burying her head in her hands. “This is the weirdest road trip ever.”

She’s right, it is, and that’s not even including Grandpa’s ashes.

“You don’t have to be here,” Eddie says to Krista. “You can fly home. Enjoy yourself while we finish this trip.”

She lifts her head, staring at Eddie like she forgot that part. Krista isn’t really a part of the trip. “That’s true,” she says.

“You should just go,” I say. “Why force yourself to be miserable?”

Her eyes brighten a bit. “I mean, we’re probably halfway done anyway, right?”

“Something like that,” I say.

She wants to go. Eddie lives in a nice house on the beach. It’s the same one he lived in with Tracy and now with Krista. It’s modern, with clean lines and lots of windows facing the gulf. With a new wife and an expensive house like that, it’s no wonder Eddie needs this inheritance.

“It probably wouldn’t be a big deal to drop me off at an airport, would it?” Krista says.

“Not at all,” Eddie says. The idea is gaining traction for her, and for him. He’s starting to look relieved she might be gone soon. “It’s barely a detour.”

Lie.

I say nothing. It’s better if Krista gets home as quickly as possible. Whining never helped anything, and she’s been doing it a lot.

Eddie turns to Felix. “You could go, too. No reason for you to traipse around the country like this, either.”

“Yeah,” Felix says. “But I wouldn’t feel right about it, not with that truck following us. I’d probably just worry.”

Krista’s face changes. She’s remembered the pickup.

I could kick Eddie. And Felix.

“I forgot about that,” Krista says. “If I left, I’d just sit around wondering if you guys were okay.” She turns to Eddie. “I’d probably be calling you all the time, driving you crazy.”

He sees his mistake. Swallows hard. “You wouldn’t have to do that. We’ll be fine.”

“No, no. I’ll stay,” Krista says, looking like she’d rather do the opposite. “I should stay.”

“Great,” Eddie says. “Whatever you want.”

“So what’s next on the list?” Krista says, rubbing her hands together. “The town with the most gruesome serial killer? The museum of horrible ways to kill someone?” She looks at Eddie. He turns to me.

“Beth’s the one who remembers everything,” he says.

Portia motions to the waitress, pointing to her beer mug. “I swear, I don’t know how you do it,” she says to me. “I try to block it all out.”

I smile. I do remember everything, that’s true. Really, it isn’t that hard.

It also helps to have the book I brought. Everyone thinks I’m reading a big family saga because that’s the cover I put over the journal. Felix won’t touch it because he only reads nonfiction. Family sagas aren’t his thing.





10 DAYS LEFT


TEXAS


State Motto: Friendship

In the morning, I go walking with Felix. It’s only the second time I’ve joined him since the trip began, and that’s disappointing. I had such high hopes for myself on this trip.

The first thing we do is check the tires on the car. They’re fine.

We walk for twenty minutes, chatting about a work problem back home. His problem, not mine. Felix likes to talk them out, perhaps to make sure he is handling things the right way. Perhaps because it makes him feel smart. Even after all these years, I don’t care which reason is right. When he’s satisfied with his chosen course of action, we return to our room.

I notice it right away.

My phone. Every night, I put it facedown on the nightstand. This is out of habit, and on purpose, because if I see the blinking light indicating I have a message waiting, I have to read it. Usually it’s work, and it can wait until morning. To avoid reading or sending e-mails in the middle of the night, my phone stays facedown.

Now it’s faceup. Light blinking.