The Golden State

The interior of the motel is marvelously ugly. There are wagon wheels everywhere—one has even been employed as a chandelier holding faux candles above. I determine that they have two rooms adjacent and I give them Alice’s credit card to swipe and return to the car and collect Honey and her diaper bag and Alice’s wheelie bag and then scurry around to Alice’s side to grip her elbow and try to gently haul her out. I put Honey down next to me and the diaper bag over my shoulder and the wheelie bag handle in my hand. “Two o’clock,” I say. “Probably time for a nap,” thinking of Alice since Honey has slept most of the day and is probably feeling rambunctious needless to say she needs to eat but we can have a second picnic in our hotel room and maybe maybe she will go back to sleep and I can have a cigarette which I want desperately, it being some five hours since I had one. I think maybe it’s just time I smoke in front of the baby but then I imagine her putting her two little fingers together and putting them to her lips and I curse myself for thinking any such thing.

Alice who has been rather aloof about attempts to assist her physically is leaning on my elbow and I am feeling vaguely guilty since she is obviously so frail and we haven’t yet spoken to Mark and Yarrow and I’m not sure what kind of exertions this trip is going to portend. Honey trips merrily along next to us onto the maroon shag of the motel, she has a good herd instinct.

The woman at the front desk says “Oh, are we visiting with Granny,” and I look at Alice and say “Yes” just as she says “No” and we both laugh and keep walking toward our rooms. When we reach Alice’s door I unlock with the mini wagon wheel key and lead her in with Honey at our heels. “Good work, baby girl,” I say to her. “Good walking and following,” I say. I wheel Alice’s bag in and say “Now the woman at the front desk is going to think I kidnapped you and am passing you off as Granny” and Alice laughs.

“We’ll hear the police cars any minute,” she says. I bark at Honey who has reached up her mitts to try and touch the enormous old TV perched on a rickety stand.

“Should we call up Mark and Yarrow to let them know where you are,” I venture. “Okay by me,” says Alice, and I pull out my phone and see that, miracle of miracles, I finally have some goddamn cell service. The screen is alive with WhatsApp and e-mail notifications and seeing Hugo’s name I immediately experience several physical manifestations of dread, in my stomach and the palms of my hands. I swipe all the notifications away and open up the dial screen.

“Do you have their number?” I ask and Alice begins rummaging around in her ratty leather purse until she pulls out a bundle of tiny squares of paper rubber-banded together.

“My address book,” she says and pulls out the top square and hands it to me. “You dial and then let me talk to them.” I punch in the numbers and hand her the phone and see with one eye that Honey has wandered into the bathroom where I follow and find her standing with one hand on the toilet flusher and a shit-eating grin on her face. She pulls at it and it clicks and the toilet flushes. I hear Alice’s voice in the next room and I do a quick check for death traps and shut the toilet lid and leave Honey to her flusher. I go into the bedroom where Alice is leaning against the wardrobe on the phone.

“Yes, I got someone to drive me the last little while.” I hold out my hand as though to offer my assistance and she says “Wait a minute, Yarrow. I’m going to let her talk to you.” I take the phone.

“Hello?” I say brightly, and a voice just like mine, a young woman’s voice on a woman who probably isn’t very young, says “Hello” at the other end. “This is Daphne,” I say, and I stand up straight and tuck forearm around my waist and allow the elbow of the hand holding the phone to rest on it. I try to reinhabit my adult professional self. “It’s nice to meet you over the phone!”

“I’m Yarrow Passafarro,” she says tentatively. Her obvious concern is straining against all our shared instincts to be nice to each other but I have to suppress a strangled hysterical squawk at the rhyme. “Could you tell me how Alice is and how you met her and what’s going on?”

“Of course!” I say. “I hope you haven’t been too worried! I know it’s a little odd to hear that she’s thrown in her lot with a stranger. My daughter and I were visiting my hometown and we met Alice at our local coffee shop. She’s taking very good care of herself but I know she’s very conscious of your concern and she thought it was best not to attempt the last leg of her trip alone.” I don’t add that she also rescued me and my child and saw me half naked after I drank to excess and fell down the stairs.