Joyride
A Tallaloosa Story
I opened the door and crawled into my car seat, waiting for Mama to buckle me in. She came around the back, her hair falling long and dark around her face. I love it when she wears her hair like that.
She leaned forward, her face close as she fastened my seatbelt. I could see the lines between her eyebrows, the ones she got when she was thinking hard.
“Boop!” I said, poking her with my finger. “I booped your nose.”
“Yeah, baby.” She said and closed the door.
We were going on a car ride.
Mama had her hand on the steering wheel. The other hand rested on her belly. Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, glancing from the screen to the road.
I was looking out the window, thinking about cookies. Mama let me have some earlier. The tiny chocolate chip ones. I put them in my mouth and let them dissolve. Saving the chocolate chips for last.
“When you’re fancy, cookies are called biscuits,” I said.
Mama just stared at her phone.
The trees rushed by in a blur. My eyes followed the powerlines as they drooped down and came back up. I imagined a little boy running along them as we drove. Sliding down the dips, climbing up to the top and jumping over the poles.
“I’m hungry," I said.
She put her phone back down and glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
“Let’s get something to eat.”
When we stopped, she took off her seat belt and twisted all the way around, looking past me through the windows. Her phone buzzed. She picked it up and stared at the screen.
“Mom, food!”
She reached into the bag and handed me a taco. I took it, unwrapping the paper on my lap. I looked out the window while I ate, grease and cheese falling onto the wrapper. We were in a parking lot, and there was a big building far off. I squinted at the sign.
“Why are we at Walmart?” I asked with a mouthful of food.
“We’re just gonna eat here for a minute,” Mama said.
I balled up the paper and held it out for her. She had her food in her lap, her thumbs tapping on her phone.
“I’m done!” I shouted. She reached back and tossed the trash into the bag.
“When are we going?” I was thinking about cookies again. Maybe she would let me have one when we got home.
“Soon,” she replied, not taking her eyes off the phone. The screen went black, and she set it down next to her.
The sky was dark now, but the lamps were shining. The white lines on the edge of the asphalt glowed and split in my vision. I rubbed my eyes.
“Mama, when are we going home?” She looked at me through the rearview mirror, chewing on her thumbnail.
“Why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a little bit. We’ll be home soon.”
I sighed and returned to the window. The trees were dark, and some of the buildings were shadowy. Others had lights on the front, pushing the shadows to the edge. I let my eyes close and felt heavy in my seat. The car seat cradled me as the car bumped over the road, rocking like waves over water. I tilted my head against the rest and sank into the black.
Then it was hot.
I opened my eyes and looked around. It was light now and I had no idea where we were. I realized I was in my car seat and looked to the front. Mama was leaned back, her hands over her belly.
“Mama, where are we?”
She sat up, and I could hear her breathing as she looked around outside the car. She picked up her phone and stared at the screen.
“Mama, where are we?”
She turned around.
“I’m sorry, baby. I must have fallen asleep.”
She looked out the window, where the sun was beginning to break orange over the treeline.
“Let’s go home.”
Her body rocked with soft footsteps and jangling keys as I lay my head on her shoulder. I could hear the door open and shut, the latch of the lock. My eyes were closed, face nestled in the soft skin of her neck. She pulled off my shoes, one by one, and they thud across the floor. I held her tight and smelled the shampoo she uses to wash our hair. She lay me down on the bed, the sheets cool as she tucked them around me. I curled up tight, and she crawled in behind me, pulling me close, her belly pressed into my back.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
There was banging on the window. It came sharp and sudden on the glass. The knocking came again.
Her breath came in quick, and she paused before she slipped out from behind me.
“Stay here,” she whispered.
Their voices were hushed, and I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I looked up at the window above the bed. The blinds shut, just specks of sunlight peeking through cracks, through the holes that held the strings that threaded it all together.
The door slammed again, and I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep.
“Sit up and get these on,” Mama had my shoes in her hands, and she grabbed my feet and put them on.
“We just got home,” I protested.
She laced me up and picked me up again. She carried me across the house and out the door. It swung shut behind us. I rested my chin on her shoulder and watched as the door disappeared around the corner.
“Hey, Spud,” a voice said. I picked my head up. Mama’s boyfriend was there, standing by the car.
She buckled me in quick and closed the door. I could hear his voice, and hers answering sharp and mean.
I wish I had asked for a cookie.
She got in and cranked the car. The door locked beside me. I saw him standing alone in the driveway as we pulled away.
As we got down the road, her phone lit up. Buzzing.
“Mama, your phone’s ringing.”
“I know, baby,” she said. Her hand went to the radio knob and turned it up until it drowned out the sound.
They better have gotten cookies after that, dang.
Excellent story, Lizzie! I love your ability to mix the mysterious with the tragically mundane, and the child's perspective here was rendered brilliantly.