Side Trip(13)

Mark asked about the drive.

“It was all right. Nothing special. Lots of dry landscape,” she said with a twinge of guilt from omitting mention of her passenger.

“Did you stop at that gas station museum—what was it called, the one in Williams?”

“Pete’s Route 66 Gas Station and Museum, and yes. I bought a magnet.” Though Dylan had purchased a sticker and stuck it on the face of a spiral-bound blue notebook stashed in his duffel.

“I miss you. Next week can’t come fast enough,” he said. “Mom wants to take you bridal shopping.”

Joy thought of her own mom. Jenny should be the one to help her find a gown. If she weren’t moving to New York, they probably already would have made appointments at the bridal shops. “Let me know if she’s picked a date to go. My mom will want to join us. Taryn, too.” Joy was Jenny’s only daughter now. Her mom wouldn’t want to miss watching Joy try on bridal gowns. Joy couldn’t take that moment away from her. She and Taryn could fly out together.

Mark said he would and Joy promised to text him before she left in the morning. Joy then called her parents, Jenny and Joel. Her dad used to joke that if their family ever formed a band, they could call themselves the 4-Js. Then Judy died, and so did her dad’s jokes.

“Joy!” her mom exclaimed when she answered the phone. “How are you, dear?”

Joy smiled. “I’m good. Made it to Flagstaff.”

“Joel! Pick up the phone. It’s Joy,” her mom shouted. Joy’s eardrum throbbed.

“How’s my favorite girl?” her dad asked when he got on the line.

“A little tired.” Joy shifted the phone to her other ear. She never liked that endearment. They didn’t have a favorite before Judy had died.

“No more driving today. Get some sleep.”

“I won’t, and I will.” Joy lifted her gaze to the stained-glass chandelier above her table. She was twenty-two and her dad still treated her like she was sixteen. But that was fine with her. It meant that they still loved her.

“How was your first day on the road?” her mom asked.

“Uneventful.” The lie came surprisingly easily. Then again, she’d been lying to her parents for years.

“Is it hot?”

“Very.”

“How’s the car?” her dad asked.

“Good.” As it should be. It was brand-new. Nobody in their family drove old jalopies. Not anymore.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

Joy didn’t know. Despite her parents’ and Mark’s objections, she hadn’t made hotel reservations. Spontaneity gave her hives, but she wanted some flexibility on her trip. If a side trip took longer than expected or she stayed in a town longer than planned to explore, she didn’t want to be locked into a reservation.

Joy looked out the window. A block down from the bar was a motel with a bright pink neon VACANCY sign.

“I’m staying at the Howard Johnson,” she announced, then gave them the address so that her parents could find it on Google Maps.

Joy’s food arrived and she wished them a good night. As she ate, her gaze kept drifting to the bar. Some people left, more went inside. She didn’t know what she hoped to see, maybe Dylan coming outside for a breath of fresh air.

She still couldn’t believe she’d spent the afternoon with him. She also hadn’t had that much fun on a road trip before. Mark always made phone calls and she’d read a book, listening to her music through earbuds, whenever they went on a long drive. They had a comfortable companionship. But Dylan’s music appreciation rivaled her own. He also had her pegged before they’d left the parking lot. No one had seen through her that easily before. It left her feeling uneasy and more curious about him. How had he figured her out so quickly?

Yes, she dressed like her sister and she listened to her favorite music. Joy wanted to experience the trip the way she imagined Judy would have.

The first time she’d glimpsed Judy’s Route 66 Bucket List had been the day after Judy’s high school graduation, the day of Kent Dulcott’s graduation party. Judy’s last day on earth.

Joy had wandered into Judy’s bedroom, a room that looked like a jukebox had exploded and spewed everything circa 1950s. B-movie posters and Hollywood heartthrob pinups from a bygone era plastered the walls. Lipsticks in vintage shades of Coral Sunrise and Vivid Crimson filled the drawers. Retro clothing stuffed the closet. Judy even had a teal rotary phone and portable record player, the kind that looked like a suitcase.

Joy didn’t get Judy’s obsession with the era, but it all started three years previous when Judy binge-watched a Happy Days marathon on Nick at Night. Out went her canopy bed and trendy outfits and in came the secondhand vintage clothes and garage sale finds. Come to think of it, Todd came into the picture around then, too, and he reminded Joy an awful lot of Richie Cunningham. Perfect teeth, clean cut, and super nice. Cool, but boring, and not Joy’s type. Whatever guy Joy fell for had better love music and boards and adventure.

Her sister wasn’t in her room, but she’d left her hatbox of lists on her bed, the lid off. The question Joy had come to ask Judy disappeared. Poof! Gone. Joy’s fingers tingled. Judy rarely spent time with her anymore. She was too busy with school and friends and sucking face with Todd. But that hatbox loaded with Judy’s dreams and aspirations, life goals and bucket lists she didn’t share with anyone beckoned. She tiptoed into the room and plucked the first list she saw: My Life Goals. Number one, Joy read, Pledge a sorority at UCLA.