“Sorry to bring this up, but”—my eyes turn to Millie since she’s the one who always gets mad when I ask this—“I was wondering—”
“Omaha, Nebraska,” Millie interrupts. “We will be at Aspen Bible Camp in a couple of days, right around the time you turn the big five-oh, barring any unforeseen circumstances.” She turns to me and throws a head librarian glare.
The sound of that “barring any unforeseen circumstances” thing isn’t real comforting, but it’s probably better if I don’t comment on that—or rise to the birthday bait. “What? Since when is it a crime to want to know where I’m going?” I ask.
She ignores me and turns back around. Lydia switches on the radio, and we’re soon on our way. As we head out of town, we stop at a local grocery store to gather some needed items. Just before we leave, I pick up a copy of the local newspaper. The fact that I have no idea who the latest Hollywood couples are tells me that I’ve lost touch with reality.
We settle into our seats once again and into the familiar whir—okay, clunk, bang, rattle—of the RV’s engine.
About an hour into the trip, Millie turns to Lydia, then me. “Do you girls ever wonder what your lives might be like if your choices had taken you down a different path?”
Reluctantly pulling my gaze from the Crabby Road cartoon in the paper, I have to wonder if I’m up to this discussion.
“Oh, I know it’s a crazy question,” Millie admits. “I just look at my life and realize it’s more than half over.”
“Excuse me? Can we just skip this little talk for now? You might be old, but I have a little time left, thank you very much.” Millie and Lydia exchange a glance and a smirk.
“A few days, Dede,” Millie spouts with far too much triumph. “There’s no time at all before you’ll be old just like the rest of us.” She cackles here, reminding me of Grandmama on The Addams Family.
“A lot of living can be done in a few days, Millie. Need I remind you all of creation took place in seven days? There’s still a little time to kick back, thank you.” They’re struggling with the fact that I’m the youngest of our group. Still, I glance at the crusty old woman in Crabby Road and realize that’s me in a few days.
“Sometimes I wonder what things would have been like for Greg and me if we had traveled more. If we had made more vacation memories,” Lydia says.
I’m thinking there is only one direction for this discussion to go—south. I fold the paper and slip over to the floor at the top of the two steps between Lydia’s and Millie’s seats so I can hear their voices over the motor home’s groans. Why I’m listening is beyond me.
“I’m not talking about regrets, Lydia. We all have those. Just in general. For instance, had I gone to a different college, I never would have met Bruce. I might have stayed single, or quite possibly married someone else altogether. Or what if I had gone into teaching music like my dad wanted—how would my life be now?”
Stop the presses! Hold your notes! Millie’s dad wanted her to teach music? Is the man tone-deaf ? I love Millie. I really do. But anyone who has heard her play the trumpet knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Remember what Greta said about the words what if ,” Lydia reminds us.
Millie looks at her. “I remember, but I can’t help but wonder anyway.”
“And I wonder what life would be without chocolate. Men, I can do without, but the dark candy? No.”
Lydia laughs. “Just think if things had all been different, we wouldn’t be taking this trip now,” she says in a burst of pure wisdom.
“Meaning?” I ask.
“It would be a real shame,” Lydia says, “not to go on this trip together.”
“Oh yeah,” I say sorrowfully, attempting an appropriate shudder. Hello? Camping. Closed-in spaces. Getting locked out of the motor home, having the drawer handle come off in my hand, and I won’t even mention the radiator problem. Real shame? Forget that burst of pure wisdom thing.
“Sometimes I just wonder about my life, that’s all.” Millie sighs. “It’s probably my age. Don’t they say old people spend more time in reflection?” A sharp gaze my way warns me not to comment. “I guess that’s what I’m doing.” She fidgets in her seat. “I’m not ready to be old yet. I’ve given my life to my work, and look where that’s gotten me. No husband, no children.”
What she says strikes a chord in my own heart. All those years I struggled to succeed, refusing romantic entanglements for fear they would get in the way of my career. But when push came to shove in the business, I wanted out. Let the real estate moguls have their way, I had decided. Who needed the pressures associated with selling commercial real estate? Not me.
“Chocolates can do a lot of things, DeDe, but they can’t warm a cold bed,” Millie says as though reading my thoughts.
Her words get my full attention. She’s not fooling me. She’s pushing for information.
“We don’t have to have a man in our lives to be happy, Millie,” I say. “Besides, chocolate is good for you. It contains compounds called flavonoids, which might protect against heart attacks.”
“It might have some medicinal qualities, DeDe, but it doesn’t cure loneliness.”
“We do need people in our lives,” Lydia jumps in. “If we shut everyone out, we have no life.”
Don’t I know it.
“You still have plenty of friends at your church, right?” Lydia asks me.
“Well, honestly, I haven’t gone to church in a while.” I don’t have to tell her I was too ashamed to go back and face my friends after dumping them for Rob. Couldn’t face God, either.
We fall silent a moment.
“The people who are really happy have a faith that carries them through the tough times, and they also have a community of friends,” Lydia says.
“Like the Red Hat Club?” Millie asks.
“That’s one group,” Lydia says.
She’s right about the friends. Aunt Darcy with her old lady friends, my neighbor Irene Conley, and some others pop into mind. They do have a community of friends and a faith that shines through the worst of circumstances.
“That’s what we have,” Lydia says, smiling.
“You’re right, Lydia.” Better to change the subject so I don’t have to think about this right now. “I think I’ll call the shop and see how things are going.” Okay, that was a little abrupt, but it works. With a grunt I push myself up from the floor and head back to the bedroom to get my cell phone, but not before seeing Lydia and Millie exchange a glance.
“Hey, Shelley. How are things?”
“DeDe, good to hear from you. Things are going well,” she says. “How’s your trip?”
We catch up on the small stuff, and I can’t help feeling Shelley is trying to keep me from what we both know is the real reason I’m calling.
“So did she open yet?”
“Who?” Shelley feigns ignorance.
“Come on, Shelley. What’s the matter—did she have a huge turnout or something?”
“She opened today, Dee. WFRP came out and covered it. The shop owner dressed in bright polka dots of pink, green, and white, passed out balloons and candy samples. She had a display of gourmet chocolates in a chocolate basket, and people entered a drawing to win it. They’re drawing in half an hour.”
“How’s the crowd there?”
“She’s doing a good business. Steady stream of customers.”
“How are we doing?”
“Well, of course people will go where there are free giveaways.”
“Not much business, huh?”
“Not much,” she admits.
“Well, it will pass. Once the novelty wears off, our loyal customers will return, because we have really good chocolates,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” Shelley plays along.
A moment of hesitation here. “Should I come home?”
“Oh no, no. We’ll be fine.”
I’m not sure whether she’s trying to convince me or herself. We hang up shortly after, and I go back in with Lydia and Millie.
“Everything all right?” Millie asks, then she sees my face. “Whoa, what’s wrong?”
After sitting, I explain my conversation with Shelley to Lydia and Millie.
“Everything will be all right, DeDe. Things will die down over at the new shop. It’s just the excitement of having a new place, the opening day, all that,” Lydia says.
“Yeah, that’s what I said too. Hopefully we’re right.”
“We’re right,” Millie encourages. “Still, I’d sure hate being ousted by a young kid.”
“Who said anything about being ousted?” Watch it, lady, or it’s mismatched sock drawer for you tonight!
“Nobody, Dee. She didn’t mean anything by that,” Lydia pipes up.
“Oh, don’t listen to me. I’m still stinging from that whole computer changeover deal. Why do things have to change, anyway? It’s like we leave a few days and the world turns upside down,”
Millie grumbles.
“Hey, there’s a coffee shop,” Lydia says, pointing to the sign that shows a coffee cup. “It’s not Starbucks, but it will do. We could use a little pick-me-up,” she says.
Millie and I agree.
Traveling another quarter mile, we turn off on the next exit and soon pull in for our coffee. A blended light mocha with whipped cream is my drink of choice. I know the whipped cream kind of cancels out the “light” part, but I figure it would be worse if I ordered a regular drink. Hey, you do what you gotta do.
Despite Millie’s love for whipped cream, she drinks her cappuccino plain. She grabs her drink, Lydia gets her latte, and we take a seat at a nearby table.
“They call that coffee?” Millie asks, looking at my drink.
“You know I’ll pick extravagant over plain anytime, Millie. Besides, you had whipped cream in your coffee earlier, if memory serves me, and it does.” Hopefully she won’t remember that her hot flash kept her from drinking it.
“Yeah, but that was different. I was stressed.” She takes a sip of her plain, as in boring, cappuccino.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to call Derrick and Drew. I had hoped Drew would call me to talk about the school situation, but he hasn’t. Evidently the ball is in my court,” Lydia says.
“Do you think Derrick told him about his conversation with you? He might not want Drew to know,” I say.
“We have to bring it out in the open sometime. I’ll be back shortly.” Lydia takes her latte over to a corner by herself and opens her cell phone.
Lydia’s comment lingers. “We have to bring it out in the open sometime.” If only I could reveal the guilt I’m carrying around. But what would they think of me? The fact that I still think about Rob, still care for him even after knowing everything. What kind of person am I?
“This is really nice,” Millie says.
“Yeah, I needed it.” The hot liquid coats my throat and calms my frayed emotions.
I glance around the room. This is a new coffee shop with cream-colored ceramic tile flooring and matching tables crouched in snug corners. A display of coffee goods such as mugs and cof-feemakers shines from one wall, while full windows on the other side release a burst of sunlight into the room. A few customers huddle at their tables in quiet conversation. The whir of the cappuccino machine and the spray of whipped cream sound from the counter area. The scent of rich coffee permeates the air.
“Hey, I was noticing in my book that there’s a really neat zoo in Omaha. I think it’s called the Henry Doorly Zoo. They have a rain forest and everything,” Millie says. “I thought maybe we could go there this afternoon.”
After another quick drink, I nod. It does no good whatsoever to buck Millie when she’s on a mission. Lydia’s voice carries our way, causing Millie and I both to look at her. The frown on her face tells me the conversation isn’t going well.
“That doesn’t look good,” I whisper.
“Yeah, I noticed that. Poor Lydia.”
“Well, we’ll just have to help her through this. You know, us being her community of friends and all.” Millie joins me in a smile.
By the time my coffee cup is empty and Millie and I have discussed the fashions of the ’70s, as in bell-bottom trousers and psychedelic shirts, Lydia comes back with swollen eyes and a red nose.
“Why do I try? That boy won’t even talk to me. He needs help, that’s all there is to it, but he won’t hear of it.” She plops down in her chair.
“Give it some time, Lydia. He’ll come around,” I say, hoping it is so.
“He’s making a mess of his life. Dropping his goal of becoming a dentist and instead working at an ice-cream factory. What is he thinking?”
“He’s got time, Lydia. He’s still young. We all make mistakes,” Millie says.
Lydia takes a deep breath. “You’re right. God can handle it. I have to quit worrying about things.”
Millie puts her hand over Lydia’s. “You’re human, Lydia. It’s okay to get frustrated, worry, fear, whatever. The important thing is that you don’t stay there,” Millie says, and I’m just amazed. That’s the most profound statement I’ve ever heard Millie make without quoting from a book. Then again, maybe it is a quote.
“I know we’ll be at the camp soon, but I was just wondering, well, do you girls want to go home early?”
Millie and I lift a surprised look to Lydia. There goes my chance to see one of my old flames.
“It just seems like everything’s going wrong on this trip. You both are having struggles with your jobs, Waldo’s fighting just to hold it all together, and—oh, I don’t know. I just wanted to give you that option and let you know I’d be happy to do that, if that’s what you want.”
We fall silent again.
“That’s what I thought,” Lydia says, eyes downcast.
“No, we don’t have to go home, Lydia. I’m sure I’m worrying about my business for no reason.”
“It’s all right, really. With all this going on with my boys, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t go back early.”
“You can’t always fix it. That’s how they mature,” Millie says, and I’m wondering how she knows so much about kids since she’s never had any of her own. She fidgets with her cup.
“What about you, Millie? Do you want to go back early?” Lydia asks.
She shrugs. “I’ve wondered about going home before Bob has time to stir everyone up with this computer thing. Then another side of me says to let it go and just take what comes. Truthfully, I can hardly stand to think about it.”
“Well, why don’t we do this: let’s go on to the camp, see how things go, and we can make our decision then,” Lydia says. “Is that all right with you two?”
“That works for me,” I say.
“Me too,” Millie adds.
We linger over coffee awhile longer and soon get back on the road. Before long, we enter the fine state of Nebraska, where the Missouri River winds its way through a land of low, rolling hills, creeks, and woodlands thick with cottonwood trees.
“Looks like it might rain,” I say, glancing up at the sky.
“Yeah, I noticed that too,” Millie says, closing her map once more.
One glance at the ceiling and I note the starting-to-curl duct tape that’s been holding the rainwater at bay through the few showers we’ve happened upon since the flood at Wal-Mart. We still have plenty more tape, so I may need to replace it soon.
“It might not be the best day for going to the zoo,” Lydia says with a touch of worry in her voice. “We have umbrellas, though, so maybe we’ll be okay.”
“We’ll be fine. We’re nobody’s sugar; we won’t melt,” Millie says.
Thanks for the reminder.
Before we find our campsite, the heavens dump clouds full of rain upon the city. The rain is so thick, Lydia can’t see to drive. She pulls off the interstate and into a parking lot until things subside.
The duct tape pulls farther from the ceiling, curling all the more. Grabbing another roll, I apply fresh tape in hopes of warding off the leaks. Millie and Lydia come back and help me.
“Poor Waldo. He seems to spring a new leak with every rainstorm,” Lydia says, stretching tape across some fresh drips.
After the rain slows to a trickle, Millie suggests that we go to the campsite and get settled, maybe even take a taxi to the zoo so we don’t have to maneuver the RV around in any more rain in the unfamiliar city.
We decide to do that and head for our new site. Once we’ve been assigned a lot, Lydia drives to the new place. The ground is wet beneath us, almost marshy in some areas. Pools of water stand in small swales here and there. Not the most ideal conditions for camping.
Lydia is getting pretty good at backing into our camping spots. I hop out of the camper and wave directions as she backs into place. A steady sprinkle starts again, slowly turning my hair into a moppy mess. I brush the drops from my face just as the RV’s back tires leave the rocky path and roll into the ground. Way into the ground. The farther Lydia backs into the site, the deeper the motor home sags into the ground.
“Stop!” I scream, flailing my arms like a busy traffic cop.
Lydia is talking to Millie while edging back. Neither is looking my way. With the RV’s sinking back side, panic surges through me. This rig could bury me in the mud before Millie’s next hot flash.
Millie yells something and turns around. Things inside must be falling backward. Lydia gets it. They both turn to me, my arms still waving. The tires grind to a halt, already deep in mud, flicking specks of mud my way.
My stomach sinks with the tires, and I’m wondering where I might find the closest airport . . .