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“I think I’d like that.”
A half an hour later, I pull the truck into the parking lot of a diner. I don’t know if the food here is any good, but I hope like fuck it is. I didn’t want to grab us some fast food shit, but we don’t have time to sit and enjoy a homecooked meal. After I kill the ignition, I turn to Doe.
“I’m going to go in there and order us something for the road. I need you to stay here with Betsy so she’s not alone. I’ll lock the doors. I’ll be watching you the entire time.”
The blood drains from her face with every word out of my mouth, and her eyes grow wide with fear.
I automatically reach for her face but drop my hand halfway there. I can’t touch her and freak her out more. Instead, I grip the headrest behind her and lean in.
“Doe, look at me. My dog is the best damn guard dog out there. I’ll hear her barking before someone could even get near you. We need to do this. We need to start getting you comfortable in your environment.”
She still doesn’t say anything, but I see her shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath.
I keep going. “I promise you, I will never let anything happen to you. As long as I’m around, nobody will fucking touch you.” The vehemence in my voice isn’t something to argue with.
The white-knuckled grip on the door handle gives away her anxiety of me leaving. She still doesn’t respond, but we’re short on time. I need to get us food, take a piss, and get back on the road. She’s going to have to deal this time.
“Betsy,” I command and pat the front seat. The big shepherd dog jumps over and settles in. Doe immediately reaches for the fur around the dog’s neck and begins stroking. “I’ll be right back,” I murmur.
I feel like running; not wanting to frighten everyone inside, I force myself to walk. Halfway across the parking lot, lost in my thoughts about Doe, about Dad, and my family, someone touches my arm. My heart rate skyrockets at the surprise touch, and I whip around ready to fuck someone up.
“Doe, dammit, why aren’t you in the truck?”
The tips of her fingers dig into my bicep as if she’s trying to hang on. I take her in, top to toe, not missing the full-body tremble. When I reach her feet, instinct takes over, and I haul her into my arms.
She thrashes and whimpers, her body bowing into an arc to throw herself away from me. Goddammit, people are going to think I’m trying to kidnap her.
“Doe!” I growl low. “You didn’t listen and followed me out here, so now I need to carry you back. Hold still.”
She stops arching, but her body shakes so hard I have to readjust my grip. My frustrations win out, and I start rambling.
“Tore up your feet enough when you were found wandering around town. Bloodied as fuck. Now you follow me out into a cracked asphalt parking lot barefoot. I’m not going to let you tear up your feet again, baby. Not after they just fucking healed.” The words flow out of me, and I don’t even register what I’m saying. All I can think of is the amount of time I’m wasting taking care of this when I just want some food for us and to get to my family. Shit, next time, swear to God, I’m just taking her with me.
I reach the truck and plant her ass back in the passenger seat where Betsy is still sitting but whining. This time, I hand Doe my keys. She takes them from my fingers hesitantly.
“This button locks the door, this one unlocks it. Got it?” I wait until she gives me a nod before continuing. “This one here sounds an alarm. Go ahead and try it.”
The blare starts up as soon as she hits the button. I take the keys back quick to turn it off.
“I need you to stay here. Lock the doors when I leave, and now you have this. You heard how loud the alarm is. If anyone bothers you, sound the alarm and I’ll come running, okay?”
She gives a sharp nod.
“I need to hear you say it, Doe. Give me your word you’ll stay put so I can get us some food.”
“I will,” she says in a scratchy tone.
“Be right back.”
Within ten minutes, I’m making my way back out to the truck with two Styrofoam takeout containers in a plastic bag. I approach the passenger side first. I think it’ll startle her less. When I reach the window, my heart fucking explodes in both pride and sadness. Doe’s crouched down in her seat, eyes to the windshield with the key fob clutched in her grip. Betsy’s curled up on the floor by her feet.
I gently tap the window and call out at the same time, “Unlock the truck for me.”
The locks click, and I walk around to my door, climb in, and pass the food to Doe. “Dig in. They’re both the same.” I steal my keys from her fingers, fire up the truck, and put us back on the highway.
Conversation is light as we eat. Doe inhales her food while I pick at mine. The silence of the drive lends my mind time to wander to Dad, and that kills my appetite. Before long, my bacon’s turned cold. I wrap the muffin up for later, and Doe puts my trash back into the plastic bag.
She starts doing crossword puzzles somewhere into South Carolina, and by the time we hit Georgia, she’s fast asleep. The next time I need gas, I stop and wake her up to use the restroom. She makes me check that it’s empty before she goes inside. I call Mom once to see how Dad is doing, and she tells me he’s resting in the cardiac intensive care unit. While I’m scared to shit Dad’s going through this right now and I can’t be there, I want the doctors to do everything they can to reduce the chances of this happening again. Dad’s still plenty young and has a lot of years left to live. He was damn lucky they decided to settle near one of the region’s leading heart hospitals.
