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Arriving at the address Fiona texted to me, I see Arin sitting on the front porch with her luggage ready to go. She doesn’t even wait for me to put the car in park before she grabs one of her bags and rushes towards me. I suspect the rush is because of her eagerness to go on this trip.
An older couple steps outside watching us load up. I assume the woman is her mother; they share a similar body shape and size. They would probably even pass for twins except I notice that something is off about her. The light, life and joy that shines from Arin is missing from her mom. I make a living by being able to read people.
I open the trunk for Arin to put her stuff in, and then walk to the porch to grab the rest of her bags. When I reach for the suitcase handle the woman rushes me with her hand out to shake. I want to brush her off but my mom taught me manners.
“Hello, I’m Taylor Burns.” I say holding my hand out for her to shake.
When she takes my hand in hers, instead of shaking she twists her hand up like she wants me to kiss it or something. I just want to let go. This small action makes me feel slimy. A shiver runs up my spine and I want to scrub my hand clean of her.
Not falling for her trick, quickly shaking her hand I step back.
“Hi, Mr. Burns. I’m Helen Conelly, Arin’s mom.” she points to the man lingering by the front door, “That is James, her father.”
“Nice to meet you, Ma’am. We have to get on the road but if you want to say goodbye to your daughter I’m sure we can still keep our schedule.” I explain to her
“That’s not necessary.” She replies before her and her husband walk back into the house, shutting the door behind them. Still looking at the closed door in confusion, Arin bumps into my side getting my attention
“Ignore them.” she whispers.
Helping with the last couple bags, we get loaded up. “Taylor, do we have enough time to stop by the doggie daycare?” she hesitantly asks me.
Tempted to say no. I’ve already changed my plans to accommodate her, but I agree as long as she makes it quick.
She directs me a couple of blocks away, I wait in the car for her to do whatever it is she needs to do here. Keeping her word it’s only a few minutes later when she comes back out. There is a woman and little girl with her. They walk her to the car but when they open the door instead of getting in right away. Arin introduces me to Sydney and Naomi Davis.
Sydney owns the doggie day care center and Naomi is her daughter. If it wasn’t for Arin pointing that out, I almost would have suspected that Naomi was Arin’s daughter. I convince myself that I’m seeing things; the girl is at least seven years old with skin the color of mocha.
After Arin shares a much more emotional goodbye than the one she had with her parents we finally begin our trip.
We aren’t complete strangers since I’ve worked with Poison Pen on a few legal matters. But the first couple hours on the road we don’t talk. Instead of it being weird it’s actually nice.
I expected to be uncomfortable. I let Arin choose the music pleasantly surprised when she picks classic rock. Most people that I know in her age group pick rap or alternative music.
The silence is only broken when Arin asks me to stop for lunch. Checking the gas gauge, I agree it’s time for a break.