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“My soon-to-be brother-in-law, Matt, owns a new restaurant, and it’s opening night. My sister Claire is marrying him in under a month. They’re using that night to test out the kitchen and staff as well as start the wedding celebrations.”
“Oh.” She scrunches her nose, pondering. “All right. I don’t want another driver.” Her eyes flick away from mine as she chews on her bottom lip. “We’ll make it back for Thursday.” Then her gaze dips to my plate. “Are you almost done?”
The burger’s gone but I still have half my fries. “There’s no way I’m leaving these. I’ve had better but they’re crispy and salty.” I slide the plate closer to her. “You want some?”
I wave a golden fry in front of her, sure she won’t be able to resist. She bats it away. “God, no. I’d rather starve.”
“What? You don’t like fries?”
The wrinkle I’m getting used to seeing on the bridge of her nose when she doesn’t like something deepens. “I don’t eat French fries.”
“What? I mean, sure, you shouldn’t eat them all the time, but you must have them once in a while.”
“No. They’re disgusting.”
“C’mon. Try one.”
She pushes back her chair, brow puckered. “No. I’ll pay the bill.”
“Hey, I can pay. You didn’t eat anything.”
Several feet from the table, she glances back at me with a huge grin on her face. “That’s all right. Rupert’s got it.”
Once on the road again, she spends an hour on her phone with her earbuds in. We stop for gas and a bathroom break and our talk is limited. Eventually, she falls asleep and stirs awake about two hours later.
The first thing she does is check her phone, then curses under her breath, followed by a distortion of her facial features. She appears to be a mix of distressed and disappointed. Is it another snub from her father? Or her mother?
When her eyes clash with mine in the rearview mirror, a flicker of embarrassment quickly followed by what looks like anger sears me, and I snap my attention back to the road.
At some point, Leighton dozes off again, and I’m able to make a good dent in the driving.
“Where are we?” She grumbles and runs a hand through her hair, voice groggy and disoriented.
“Utah. Near Emery.”
“We need to stop.” There’s a pointed urgency to her command.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
It’s about seven thirty in the evening, and I’d planned to push through, grabbing a bite on the road within the next couple of hours.
“No. I need out of the car.” She tries to slacken her seatbelt, pulling the strap from her body only to do so again as soon as the strap tightens across her torso upon release.
It’s hard to watch her frustration, and something more desperate, raw and emotional, rolls off her like a heat wave. Thick and suffocating. It’s as if she’s trapped and unsure how to break free.
She clenches her teeth, causing the muscles in her jaw and neck to tighten. “I need a hot bath, a warm meal, and bed.”
“You’re calling it quits? We’re only about halfway to Vail.”
“I need out of this car. Now.” She claws at her throat. “I can’t breathe.”
Fortunately, the next exit has hotel signs and I pull off. Leighton doesn’t say a word or open her eyes when I get out of the car to check us in.
Her head rests on the back of her seat, and she seems to be focused on her breathing. One hand rests on her stomach, moving up and down with her slow, even breaths. I recognize the grounding and relaxation technique from Claire when she’s faced with a panic attack.
I don’t want to disturb her and wonder if she’s claustrophobic. Was it the car?
When I return, she’s still in the car, eyes closed. I quickly and quietly remove her luggage and wheel them to her room, although lugging four suitcases doesn’t feel quick or easy.
