The Edge of Always(71)

Camryn waits impatiently next to me.

“Stop looking at shit,” I demand, knowing she’s risking the memory.

She laughs lightly and squeezes her eyes shut for a moment.

“Thank you for staying at the Holiday Inn New Orleans,” the clerk says as we leave the counter. “We look forward to seeing you again.”

“Holiday Inn?” I pretend. “No, this is the… Embassy Suites in… Gulfport. Yeah, this is Mississippi. What’s wrong with you, ma’am?”

The clerk’s features crumple and she raises a baffled brow, but doesn’t say anything back and we exit the building.

Camryn plays along once we get outside and start loading everything in the Chevelle: “I say we drive straight past New Orleans when we get to Louisiana.”

It’s not really as hard as I thought it would be to pretend we’re someplace we’re not.

“Sounds like a plan,” I say, shutting my door. “We can drive straight past Galveston, too, if you want.”

“No, we have to visit your mom,” she says. “After that we can go wherever.”

I put the car into gear and say just before backing out, “Doesn’t mean we can’t stop somewhere on the way to Galveston, though.”

She purses her lips, nodding in agreement. “That’s true.” Then she looks at me as if to say, Now let’s get out of here.

*

We take the long way out of New Orleans and make our way northwest through Baton Rouge and Shreveport, and eventually over the Texas state line and then into Longview. We stop for gas in Tyler and drive from there to Dallas, where Camryn insists we drop in West Village for a “gen-you-ine cowgirl hat” (her words, not mine).

“Cain’t road-trip through Texus without dressin’ like ah Texun!” she said just before I agreed to take her.

Personally, I don’t do cowboy hats or boots, but I have to say it looks good on her.

And we stop off for a night at La Grange, where we have a few drinks and watch a great country-rock band play. And the next night we hang out at Gilley’s, where Camryn rides El Torro the mechanical bull, of course, with that sexy cowgirl hat on. And later, when we go back to our hotel, being the horny bastard that I am, I pretend I’m the mechanical bull and let her ride me. Wearing the cowgirl hat, naturally.

Two days later, we find ourselves about an hour from Lubbock, broke down on the side of the highway with a blown tire. I guess I should’ve checked out all four of the tires back at that gas station in Tyler.

“This is f*cked up, babe,” I say, squatting down next to the shredded rubber. “I don’t have another spare.”

Camryn leans against the side of the car, crossing her arms over her chest. Sweat glistens on her face and the skin above her breasts. It’s hot as hell out here. There’s not a tree or a structure of any kind for miles. We’re surrounded by an almost completely flat, barren landscape of dirt. It’s been a long time since I was this far west in Texas, and I’m starting to remember why.

I stand up straight and hop on the hood of the car. “Let me see your phone,” I say.

“Gonna call a tow truck?” she asks after reaching in the front seat to get it and placing it in my hand.

I run my finger over the touch screen, flipping two pages to find her Yellow Pages app. “It’s the only thing we can do.” I type in “tow trucks” and scroll the results before choosing one.

“I hope this one actually shows up this time,” she says.

The tow service answers, and while I’m talking to the guy, telling him what size tire I need, I notice Camryn lean into the backseat through the open window and emerge with that sexy cowgirl hat on, likely to help keep the beating sun off of her.

She moves around to the hood and jumps up on it next to me.

“OK, thanks, man,” I say into the phone and hang up. “He said it’ll be at least an hour before he can get here.” I set the phone on the hood and grin over at her. “Y’know, all you’d have to do is cut that pair of jeans in your bag into a pair of Daisy Dukes, take off your bra and just wear the tank top, and you could—”

She puts her finger on my lips. “No way,” she says. “Don’t even think about it.”

We sit quietly for a moment, looking out at the nothingness that surrounds us. It feels like it’s getting hotter, but I think it’s more due to sitting directly in the sun on the hood of a black car that’s soaking up the heat like a sponge. Every now and then a nice breeze brushes our faces.

“Andrew?” She takes her hat off and places it on my head, then lies down with her back against the windshield. She fixes her hands behind her head and draws her knees up. “Number five on our list of promises: if I die before you, make sure I’m buried in that dress we bought at the flea market and without shoes. Oh, and none of that eighties blue eye shadow stuff or drawn-on eyebrows.” Her head falls to the side and she looks at me.

“But I thought that was the dress you wanted to marry me in.”

She squints, turning her eyes away from the sun. “Yeah, it is, but I want to be buried in it, too. Some believe that when you die, your afterlife is reliving the happiest moments of your life. One of mine will be the day I marry you. Might as well take the dress with me.”

I smile down at her.