The Golden State

“You can still dial 911, I read somewhere. So if something happens, you get out the phone and dial even if it says you don’t have service.” I get out of the car and circle around and get her umbrella out of the trunk and open her door and offer a hand, which she takes imperiously. She stands and I give her the umbrella which is the right height for her to lean on and she taps on the glass of the back seat. “Bye-bye, little Honey,” she croons at the screaming Honey. Alice reaches out a hand and I open the door for her and they briefly link fingers. “Take care of your mama.”

I take Alice’s shoulders in my hands. “Please, please be careful. Walk slow.”

“That’s the only way I can walk,” she says, and pats my hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine. We’ll be just fine.”

I get back in the car and drive slowly back to the road, praying that the weather holds, the center holds. I reach a hand back and touch Honey’s foot. “Hi sweet baby,” I say, and she kicks at me with her little shoe and yells “NYO” and I say “Why don’t you take your shoes off” because that could be a fun project for her and I wonder again why I never have any legitimate activities for her in the car but then again I think entertaining yourself is important. As is always the case on the way back the road feels shorter and slightly less treacherous than the way there when we didn’t know what was coming and soon we are back up at the shack and the washed-out sign. I stop the car and crane my neck to look out the passenger side window to see if I can get a glimpse of the clearing below but it’s all trees, trees, trees. I sigh and consult Alice’s printout maps to reassure myself on the direction of the interstate. We turn onto the county road from whence we came and head east. Once the car has picked up real speed Honey settles and I settle and we zip along and I think Alice is fine, she made it all the way out to California by herself which is an incredible feat given the state of her.

The road is windy and the sky is gray but holding steady, no drops, and around the time I think we ought to be nearing the interstate we start seeing signs for something called Wildlife Safari Experience and I think Jesus Christ, but then I think that actually might be a fun thing for Honey to do other than sit in the damn car for hours and hours and the mobile home for days and days with her neurotic mother. What’s more it appears to be enough of an attraction that there are motels clustered in proximity to it so we roll into one that proudly advertises a $49.99/night room. I am yearning for a cigarette when I pull in and Honey is asleep and I am conscious of the fact that I could maybe sneak one in standing by the car and this is exactly what I do, bending my knees so I can look at her through the window and throwing the butt down when her body eventually senses the cessation of motion and she twitches herself awake. I feel high and I think I can’t wait to have Alice back safe so I can relax and then I have the small rogue thought that it will be good to get her off my hands wherever we work it out with Yarrow and then I banish that and imagine the tumbleweeds rolling down the road in Altavista and know that more than anything else we’ve got to be rid of the town.

I get Honey out of the car seat and now she is cheerful enough but her diaper is a big sodden mass and before I do anything I think we ought to change that and I make some space to lay her down in the trunk and instead of lying calmly she rolls and twists while I’m trying to get the new one on her, undoubtedly due to being so cooped up for two days, and I have to hold her tighter than I want and I think Oh god I’m the woman smoking in the parking lot being forceful with her child and I finally get the damn diaper fastened and I lift her up and cuddle her but she wants to be down down down and all I can do is direct her forward and I say “This way, Honey, this way!” and run alongside her toward the door like a sheepdog.

I get us two rooms with my credit card which makes me pause to think about the damn pending reimbursements and I take a moment to confer with the attendant about whether there is a more direct route back to the camp and he says yes we could take the interstate for a stretch if I go left out of the parking lot instead of right and straight and it is 11:51 which is perfect according to the timeline we have established with Alice. I take ten minutes to feed Honey the remaining cold cuts and a piece of bread and a banana and then three minutes to get her thrashing and yelling into the car and then one minute to put my forehead against the wheel and it’s 12:06 when we are pulling out of the parking lot.