Chapter Four: The Trek

It was Friday morning and the screaming of my alarm suddenly woke me. We were early to rise in order to get out of the state before noon. The clock read 5:00 A.M. – an ungodly hour. I heard the running of the shower through my room’s thin walls. My mother must have gotten up earlier to shower. I wished to cleanse as well.
I slowly crept out of my bed, feeling a crick in my neck – a joyful feeling knowing that you had a days worth of driving ahead of you – yes sarcasm. Grabbing the set of clothes I laid out on my suitcase the night before, I walked into the bathroom connected to my own bedroom.
My bed, my mother’s bed, and our two clocks were the only remaining items in our house. They were to be picked up at 10:00 – a time in which I wish we were leaving. The other furnishings of our house were already on the trek to our apartment, which was rented without our knowledge, and were to arrive a day before we arrived.
The shower water felt good on my sore neck. Heck, maybe it would lose the crick all together – highly doubtable. I tended to get many aches and pains after resting, as did my mom, but normally they subsided by the early morning, as in 11:00 or so. Some aches, as today’s, lasted all day, and sometimes even carried on into the following day. I had a terrible and gut wrenching feeling that this crick would follow that trend.
There was a knock on my bathroom door, which highly startled me, for I was not used to being interrupted as I was in the bathroom.
“Wrap it up. I want to be on the road by quarter till six,” my mom said, her voice sounding muffled through the door and the water hitting the floor of the shower, which happened to be steaming up quite speedily.
“Mhm,” I managed to get out. My groggy mind only allowed a certain vocabulary to be used at this hour in the morning, and mhm seemed to fit my mind’s mood.
After rinsing the remaining conditioner out of my hair, and allowing the soap bubbles to flow down my chest and legs, I turned the faucet to the right, which caused the water to stop. I grabbed a towel hanging from above the toilet, just outside of my shower, and wrapped it around my waist, after, of course, drying the upper half of my body, which caused the crick in my neck to become even more painful.
Now fully dressed, I grabbed my toothbrush, toothpaste, towel, shampoo, conditioner, and soap, and threw them in the bathroom bag outside of the bathroom floor. Grabbing the bag, I headed out of my room, giving one last glance to my bed, which only contained one sheet, and turned to leave the house forever.
It was sad, terribly sad to walk away from this beloved house. I had grown up here, and more importantly, I was with my father here. He had never been to North Carolina, and I worried that the spirit that I swore was watching over me, would be too frightened to venture to such a new land.
There would be no big city, no noisy nights – it would be dull. No friends, no family, no nothing. My dad’s parents lived in Texas, and they had departed from LA on Wednesday. We chose not to be real chummy with them while they were here, for we felt that they needed some time to reflect. His only brother was in France at the time, and was unable to attend the funeral. His permanent home was in Toronto.
When it came to my mother’s side, well they were all over the place. Her parents lived in England. Her dad, my grandpa, was in the hospital, and hadn’t been home in a while. He was still recovering from cancer. At the age of 67, he did pretty well with the chemo treatments.
Her sister, Beverly, lived in Italy, not leaving Europe, as did her brother Jacob, who currently resided in Spain. As a young girl her family moved to Scotland, and after the kids were grown, my mom being the oldest at age 23, the family separated. My mother Lin was the only member of the family to move back to the states. She was now 39, Jacob 36, and Beverly, Bev for short, was 34. None of her siblings could attend the funeral either.
Walking out of the front door, I noticed my mother standing outside of the car, her frame dully outlined in the darkness of the morning.
“Now latch the door won’t you?” she demanded. I turned at shut the door, locked from the inside, and glanced once more at the box that contained the key for the movers.
It was a bit unreal to leave this house – as I said, I grew up here. I would never imagine the day us moving out, but then again, I never imagined my father dying at such an unfair age, in such an unfair way.
Of all people to come into my mind, it was Ms. Vauche. Why the hell would she be popping into my thoughts as I was reflecting over this wonderful, and my wonderful father? I couldn’t quite grasp that one, so I decided for once to just let it be.
“Come on now.” I turned from the door and said something I never had before, or at least not to my mother.
“Yes ma’am…” I trailed off, almost shuddering at what I had said. No, this was not a bad thing, I just had no bloody clue as to why I said it.
“Ah, are we getting formal now?” she asked, chuckling lightly, but loud enough to hear clearly in this silent hour. Obviously, the question was rhetorical, but either way I responded, regardless of how much of a moron I sounded like.
“Who said bribing never worked?” I said. Of course I was joking. I “giddy-upped” to the car - No, I didn’t leap, just sped walked. She bobbed me on the head as I walked past. “What was that for?”
“I say bribing never works you dimwit!”
“Whatever,” I said, using the best-of-my-ability British accent, trying to imitate her father. Ha, I never realized I used the word bloody so much. I guess when I was younger he said it around me, and well it stuck.
I hopped into the car, moving the I-pod I had laid there the night before into a cup holder, and prepared myself for the drive that lay ahead of me.

We stopped briefly at a McDonalds for lunch around noontime. We were in a town called Flagstaff. The restaurant was clean, and surprisingly the cashiers were pleasant to us as we ordered.
My mother and I ate in almost total silence, but it was broken by her.
“So, how’s the drive been treating you?”
“Eh, it could be better. Only the thought of having to drive another two days lets me cheer up,” I said, with a sneer, and a large sense of sarcasm.
“Watch it buddy, I don’t like it either.”
“I know, I know, what’s the crime of adding a little humor?” The actual trip was estimated 34 hours and 59 minutes on a map site we found. At 35 hours, we were planning on driving around 12 hours a day. Roughly that puts us at 3 days.
“You ready?” she asked, obviously asking if I had finished my food.
“Yeah, let me just use the facilities,” I said, trying to sound sophisticated. After driving for 6 hours, I was a bit groggy, and anything to give a laugh would make me happy.
I shuffled up to my feet, grabbing my tray and walking it over to the trash on the way to the restroom. My mom followed, but parted to the ladies room.
The restroom was cold, and playing in the background was a cheesy classical piece you would expect to hear in an elevator. After empting my system, I cleansed my hands, using warm water, which was something I typically didn’t do. I just felt like it for a change – the warm water felt great running over my hands.
I exited the facilities – yes in my head I was chuckling at my not-so-funny sarcasm – and walked to the exit of the McDonalds. I waited for a moment, glancing at the different orders that people had selected. I enjoyed doing this, for you could learn a lot about a person from what they ate.
A large man, about two tables down from me, was coughing down a double bacon cheeseburger, with a side of large fries, which at the moment he had one in his hand, dipping in them in some sort of sauce. To wash that down he had a very large cup of brown soda. I felt accomplished that I had now seen the results of this fattening food.
My mother appeared into my sight, and we walked to the car. When she switched the ignition, the car clock read 12:30.
“So when you think we’ll stop?” I asked.
“Eh, maybe around 6:00 – 6:30.”
“Okey dokey, sounds great,” I replied, sinking down into my chair, attempting to become comfortable. I leaned over and grabbed my I-pod out of the cup holder, placed the ear buds into my ears, turned on a song at random, and shut my eyes.

At six fifteen we pulled into a Super 8 motel. Across the street was a Holiday Inn, but we were watching our budget. Although we had only been on the road 10.5 hours, we got caught in traffic for 1.5. We decided stopping before our 12 hour goal was only necessary.
We got a pretty nice room considering that we had no reservations – not to sound like a snob or anything, but who would make reservations in a place like this. I had a hunch that this motel was built for people like us – groggy travelers that had been driving all day, and didn’t give a crap what their room looked like, as long as it had a bed and a shower.
Our room had one king sized bed, for my mom and I to share, a shower/bath combinations, as do most hotel rooms, and a TV which probably only had 10 channels, none of which worth watching. We were on floor two of five, so there was a possibility our upstairs neighbors would keep us up all night.
After throwing down our little luggage, which didn’t contain more than two bathroom bags, a small handbag for clothes, and a small bag for entertainment items (I-pods, books, ect.), we left the room in search of a place to eat dinner.

We continued this driving-and-stopping pattern for the next three days. Nothing eventful stuck out in particular. There was this one motel that had a very loud noise coming from it all night. We must have been directly below some “a-holes” who thought they were the only ones on the planet. I come across many of these types.
At 12-ish on the third day of our trek – Sunday – we pulled into the “lovely” state of NC. I guess you could call my judgment a little bias – all though I have had no experience.
We drove and drove, almost running out of gas. I kept having this crawling feeling that I had left something at home – yes I am referring to Los Angeles. I hate that bloody feeling, and I hate it even more when you realize that your fear has come true. I had left the birthday card that Suze had given me. God, why am I such a goof?
It had been silent for the past hour or so, and it was becoming abnormally comfortable. It was time for some noise. Only one slight problem that was becoming larger by the second – what the hell is there to talk about? Then off all people, Ms. Vauche popped into my head. I was thinking of why it was her that came to me, for I was almost certain that it was “destiny” that it was her that I had thought of.
“Hey mom?”
“Yes?” I felt like a moron. What was I to say? Then it came to me – Ms. Vauche was strangely familiar.
“Yes?” she asked again, not knowing why I had a sudden pause between words.
“Do you think Ms. Vauche is familiar?”
“Well I never really thought about it, but now that you mention it, yes, yes I do.”
“Can you think of why the heck she would be familiar?”
“No, can you?” I was about to respond with a no as well, but then something else came to me. I began to have “flash backs” of the beach seen.
We were all in the water, swimming our little hearts out, when there was a tug below the water. Then, before my eyes, my father was sucked below and was being drug out. I was shallow enough to stay above water. My mom, not a weak swimmer herself, was pulled off her feet, but she too was to shallow to be pulled out.
I remember seeing a woman, just a little deeper that my dad. I screamed to her – I screamed for her to grab my father. She could’ve done it, but she was a coward. I remember her glancing at me with some sort of sad look, and then showing it to my father. She then used her entire body strength to pull herself into shallow water.
I hated that woman, and ever since the rip tide I had wanted to find that woman. Lucky for me, I did. It made sense, that is, why she wanted us out of our house to quickly. She didn’t want us to figure it out. I hadn’t gotten a good look at her. But now, I had the victim.
“Erik honey, I asked…”
I cut her off.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Vauche killed dad.”

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Chapter Tree - Goodbye Pancakes

She started her ranting. Her look of fright was only momentary, but it was just enough time for me to begin unraveling the mystery as to why she was scared at all.
“Alright, well I came to say you guys need to get out quickly,” Ms. Vauche said, sounding quite rude, which seemed to take back my mom.
“What? Our house isn’t even on the market!” Mom said.
“I understand, you’ll move and we’ll rent it out. Oh, I’m sorry, you’ll rent it out.”
“But I’d like to sell.”
“Well, when someone gets interested we’ll let you know. It’s Monday, you need to be out by Friday.”
“We don’t have any arrangements. Hell, we haven’t even looked at houses.”
“Taken care of. We’ve already got a moving truck. My company is taking care of it.”
“And the house?”
“We’ve got you guys in an apartment. You’ll be able to look around once you’re there.”
“But how will we just leave the house. The reason we need to move is because we can’t afford it. How do you expect us to pay for an apartment and a house?”
“I’ve already talked to a couple. They are in their early 20’s. They sound interested. Oh, and by the way, you might want to say your goodbyes.” She was leaving for the door, but I caught her.
“How come you’ve made all of the arrangements without consulting us? And why is your company helping?” She looked like she had been punched in the face. She took a step backwards, still heading toward the door.
“We’re just trying to help – you know, the media and such. I know you’re tired of them. And your mother, I don’t know how long she can take living here.”
“Don’t drag my mom into this. What is the real reason? And more importantly, why are you afraid.”
“I will assure you, I am not afraid. I have to go.” With that she slammed the door and drove off.
“Well that was a bit odd,” Mom said.
“Yeah, it was.” That is when it hit me. I still had to call Suzy. My phone was found lying on my nightstand, exactly where I had left it the night before. I pressed and held the one – speed dial.
She picked up on the third ring.
“Hey Erik.”
“Hi, guess what?”
“Hm?”
“I’m moving on Friday. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“What, you can’t…”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I interrupted. “I was wondering if you had any idea of what we should do.” By saying this, I meant whether or not to break up.
“Hell, I don’t even know what to wear in the morning.” There was a pause. I broke the silence.
“Suze?”
“Yeah?”
“This isn’t going to work.”
“Why?”
“We are moving to North Carolina.” By this I was saying there was no way for us to stay together.
“Oh - but we will stay in touch. You have my cell and home, along with my address.”
“Definitely,” I said, feeling bad that I wasn’t sounding too enthusiastic.
“How about you come over for breakfast tomorrow. We can make some of those blueberry pancakes you love.”
“Yeah, sure. What time?” I asked.
“Nine-ish?”
“Super.” I hung up.

The alarm rung at 8:00 sharp. I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to get ready. I told Mom about this outing, but regardless if she remembered or not, I was going.
After a brief “clean-up”, which involved me cleaning my face, and brushing my teeth, I grabbed a jacket and headed out the front door. There, I bumped into my mom as she was bringing in the paper.
“Where… Oh, yes, Suze’s.”
“Yes, I’ll be back by, eh, ten-ish.”
“Sure. Call if you wind up staying or whatever.”
“Of course.” I walked to my half open garage and pulled out my bike. Haven’t used it in ages. My life strictly revolved around swimming. That is until my father. My mom pulled me out of it faster than you could ask her otherwise.
I pulled the bike out, and hopped on when I had wheeled it to the edge of the curb. Surprisingly there was dew on the tips of the grass blades – LA doesn’t see that too much. A small phenomenon that I simply set aside.
I peddled the bike into the center of the street, and then veered it to the right, so I was riding along the edge of the curb. Suze didn’t live too far from me, only a few blocks – a five minute bike ride – no big deal, or as she would say, deal-lio.
The air was unusually chilly – not something you would expect on the outskirts of LA. The five minute bike ride that followed was five minutes of uneasy silence. As I rode past the rickety houses, I thought about how many memories these streets had given me. I was dreadfully nervous as to how I was going to hold onto these memories.
I pulled into Suzy’s apartment complex – Angeles Apartments – clever – and parked my bike along the side of the building, not bothering to tie it up or anything of that sort. Her apartment was on the 3rd floor. Her complex was the type with the wooden staircases that led you to the multiple floors. I climbed up three flights, and loped to 312. There were 15 apartments per floor, and none were what you would call fancy. I knocked three times, and I heard commotion from behind the door. I assumed one of them was looking through the peep-hole. The door opened and I met Suzy’s face.
“So where’s your dad?” I asked, all-knowingly.
“How’d you know?”
“Cuz, if he was here, he would have answered the door.”
“You’ve got a point,” Janine, her mother, said.
“So… I’m starving. I can’t wait to dig into those pancakes.”
“Thought you’d say that. They’re already on the table!” Suze said, half laughing at my statement. I walked into her apartment, scanning for anything new - there was nothing.
“So, really, where is your dad?”
“He’s at a job interview. If he gets the job we’ll be able to move out of this dump,” Suze said, trying to not let her excitement make her giggle.
“Well, we never said that honey,” said Janine.
“You know that’s the case just as well as I do,” Suze replied. We took a seat around her table. It was brown, and round, with four chairs evenly spaced around it. Suze’s dad had OCD, big time – everything had to be perfect.
“Ms. Long, I have to say, these pancakes smell delicious,” I said to Suze’s mom.
“Thank Jim; he came up with the perfect recipe.” There was a moment of hesitation, but then Suze broke it with the sound of fork-in-waffle. I followed her lead, as did Janine.
“So, are you guys flying?” asked Suze.
“Psht, are you kidding me?” I asked, making her sound insane.
“Well, I don’t know. It’s a long drive.”
“Yeah, ‘bout three days or so - I wish we could afford to fly.”
This time it was Ms. Long who spoke. “Well, at least your mother will be happy. Where are you guys planning to go in NC?”
“Er… I think a town called Davidson. I doubt it though. I looked at it last night online, and it was pretty expensive. Our house is more, but still, it’s not cheap. Our best bet is probably Huntersville, a town right outside of it.”
“Is that expensive?” Ms. Long asked.
“Well for the amount we paid for our current house, we could get a house twice the size in Huntersville. I don’t know. I’ll have to let you know when we get there.”
“When are you guys leaving again?” Suze asked. I knew that she knew, but she wanted her mom to hear for emphasis. She did things like that.
“Friday…”
“This Friday-” said Ms. Long. I cut her off before she got out Friday.
“Yes, this Friday.” I looked down at my plate and realized that I had already shoveled down one of the two waffles that were placed on my plate.
“Wow,” she said in response. Yeah, it was a statement worth wowing for. It was quite sudden. I surely wasn’t ready to leave, nor was my mom. It was just her subconscious that was telling her to get out of this city.
We all completed our pancakes in silence, presumably because we were all taking in the utterly horrible reality, that I, Erik Richards, Suze’s boyfriend, was moving, and it was final.
“Can I get your plate?” Suze asked once she noticed that I had cleared it.
“Sure,” I said, pushing the chair away from the table, causing in a screeching noise to fill the apartment. I arose from the chair, to push it back underneath the table, this time creating less noise than before. I continued: “Well what can I say? You guys have been great to me, and it has been a pleasure to date your daughter. Thanks for breakfast. Tell Mr. Long I said goodbye.”
“Sure, and thanks,” said Ms. Long, sounding as if she was suggesting that she wanted me to stay longer – this I knew I couldn’t do, for I would become to attached to the situation, which would make it all the more painful to let go of when I really did have to part from their lovely company.
I backed away from the table, eyeing Suze, who still hadn’t left her post at the sink, thoroughly washing the dishes. I slowly turned around to face the door, and walked toward it.
“Wait.” It was Suzy’s voice.
“Yes?” I said turning around to face her, and away from the door that I wished to walk through. There was a silence, and when she didn’t respond I took a step backwards, grabbed the door knob, and swung the door open. I still faced away from the outside world.
She just kept staring at me, and when I took another step back, she took one toward me. I knew what she wanted, so I simply granted her request. We each took one step toward each other, embracing when we met. I allowed my hand to stroke the back of her hair, as she softly patted my back – something us middle schooler’s call love tapping.
I let my mouth come close to her ear, so I could whisper something to her. Apparently she was using the same plan. She beat me to it.
“I’ll miss you,” she said, choking back tears.
“I’ll miss you. Thank you for being so great to me,” I replied in a way so that she knew that this was our final goodbye. I heard sniffles, and felt a teardrop run down my neck. She was crying – I could not allow myself to do this. I loosened my grip on her fragile body, and she followed my lead.
“Goodbye,” she whispered. I nodded, unable to say anything back. I glanced to the back of the apartment to see Ms. Long give me a slight smile. I managed to get in a small smile in return.
I then turned toward the door, walked out, turned to face into the apartment, and shut the door. For a moment I stayed there, staring at the red door. When I finally felt satisfied, I walked to my left, toward the stairs, and onto my bike.
As I hopped onto my bike something was haunting me. I had made a promise, a promise to give her the first kiss that she desired. I couldn’t believe that I had allowed my own emotions get in the way. I pulled into the street, wondering why I couldn’t have given her the kiss she desired so deeply.