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“Is it today? In Chicago?”
He nods.
Great, this will allow him to drop me off at his house, and from there, I can skip around town until he sends me back on a bus.
“Who’s getting married?”
“An old neighbor of mine.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll have a beautiful evening.”
I let them be men together, but not before saying goodbye to Freddy. I give him a quick hug before I lie and say I’m getting picked up by Emily, my best friend. I wish I could trust her enough to let her in on my plan. As of late, all my friends have been so bothered by my obsession with heading out of town. They think I should shut up already and give hitchhiking a try. I mean, I know they’re not really serious, but I’m not really sure.
Either way, it’s time to find my place in Freddy’s SUV. Thank god he was smart enough not to lock it. And bonus points since he also put his duffel bag in the front. His truck is clean, and his trunk is fairly spacious. I lucked out by spotting a folded blue blanket in the trunk. I hope this is an emergency blanket and not one he’s used with women in here. Probably not. I believe it was his wife who was having an affair. That doesn’t mean he’s not banging someone right now.
I cover myself with the blanket and try to find the most comfortable position. And definitely, a spot where I’m not seen. Once settled, I make sure my phone is on silent.
I hear Dad and Freddy say their goodbyes followed by the car door slamming. Freddy clears his throat and starts up his SUV. I hold my breath for a moment as Nirvana starts playing. Through the back window, I watch clouds of dirt rise and circle Freddy’s truck. Once he merges onto the expressway, I pray for a safe trip.
It’s wild to me. Freddy has no clue I’m in the back. Suddenly all the “what ifs” come to me. Like, what if the cops pull him over for speeding or something, and then he gets arrested because there’s a woman in his trunk? Thankfully he is a good driver. It seems like he respects the speed limit, and when he slows down, it’s not very sudden. The gentle driving is oddly a turn-on. It clearly defines him as a man who takes care of nice things since this car seems like a nice thing. Quality, that’s for sure.
Out of nowhere, the music is replaced with the sound of a phone ringing. He’s making a call, and it’s coming through the truck’s speakers.
“Dustin! Hey, bud!”
“Dad? Dad?”
Well, holy shit, the kid sounds so loud it makes Freddy turn the volume down. The enthusiasm in Dustin’s voice is infectious and utterly sweet.
“I’m here, bud. Making my way back from Hillpike. Heading to Brennan’s wedding later. Are—”
“Hey…Dad?” Dustin’s voice goes in and out.
“Where are you, kid? Are you busy or…”
“Hey, Dad? I’ll call you back. I’m at the pool. Love you!”
“I love you, too. I’ll reach out a little later.”
The music resumes, and it’s about eight more songs into the expressway drive when I get an unbearable desire to sneeze. This sucks! Out of all the times I have to sneeze. I’m certain it’s from the AC hitting me directly. I think the music may be loud enough to dismiss its sound, so I let it out, burying my face into the blanket.
Then I no longer hear the music. He stopped it. Oh no, I think he could be suspicious.
He shoots across a couple lanes, heading toward an exit. He’s gotta be getting gas or has to use the restroom because my GPS says we are about an hour into our drive with just short of two hours left. I pull my blanket back to catch a couple reflections of blue rest signs past the back window.
He nearly slams on his brakes before he turns off the ignition. I swallow, shuttering beneath the blanket. For fuck’s sake, he must know I’m here! I hear him come around to the back, and before I can react to his sudden moves, he opens the trunk and yanks the blue blanket off of me.
His sparkling blue eyes pierce through me like sharp knives. He’s not really surprised. If anything, he’s mad or frustrated.
“Hi?” I say.
I sit up, adjusting the straps of my loose tank top. I pull my jean shorts down, allowing my crotch to finally breathe.
“This window”—he taps at the trunk’s window above his head as he peers down at me—“is a reflection of what’s in my trunk. I saw motion shifting, and then you sneezed. Come on, Sadie. Get on out.”
I never felt as free as I did when I jumped out of the truck. This late-July day is hot as a sunray hits my eye.
He handed me the backpack I was lying on.
