Carolyn Parkhurst - The Dogs of Babel

Lexy turned to me with real excitement in her face. “Really?” she asked. “Well, we have to go. Now, tonight.”

“Tonight it is,” I said, playing along. “But maybe we should get something to eat first.”

“Well, we can stop,” she said, “but we’ll have to leave after the appetizers.”

“Why?”

“Because if we finish dinner, then the date will be over.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, come on. We’ve already gone to a wedding. Once we’ve gone out to dinner, how much more could we reasonably expect to do? It’s only the first date, after all.”

“Okay,” I said. “And if the date were over, then we couldn’t go to Disney World because… ?”

She rolled her eyes. “Because that’d just be crazy. We don’t even know each other, and we’re taking off on a trip together? That’s nuts. But if we decide that Disney World is the perfect place to go on our first date—and I believe it is—then we’ll have a story to tell for the rest of our lives.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Of course.” Her face was flushed with excitement. “Look, it’s spring break, right, so you don’t have any classes to teach. What were you planning to do with yourself for the next week?”

“Well, I have some papers to grade. And I was thinking about defrosting my refrigerator.”

“Oh, yeah, you need a trip to Disney World.”

I couldn’t believe I was considering this. “What about your dog?” I asked.

“I have a neighbor I can call.”

“What about clothes?”

She looked me up and down, appraising my khakis and button-down shirt.

“That’ll do until we get there,” she said. “Then we can get you a Mickey Mouse shirt. Or, no, not Mickey—Eeyore. That’s who you remind me of. We’ll find you an Eeyore shirt.”

“Eeyore?” I asked. I scanned my memory of children’s literature. “The sad donkey? That’s who I remind you of?”

“Yup. But in a good way.”

We stopped at an Italian place we saw on our way back to the highway. I guess I still thought she was going to call it off, but when we walked in, she excused herself to use the pay phone. When she came back to the table, she announced that everything was all set with her neighbor; he had agreed to take care of Lorelei while she was gone. I examined the menu. I was starving, and the entrées looked great. “Just appetizers?” I asked.

She nodded. “Doesn’t sound very satisfying, does it?” She looked discouraged. Suddenly, I wanted to make this work for her, this whole crazy plan.

“Well, no one said we can only get one apiece,” I said. I looked at the list of appetizers. “There’s enough here to make a meal from. We can share some bruschetta and that mozzarella salad. And look—it says here that you can get a half order of pasta. I think sharing is the important part. No one ever shares entrées, but everyone shares appetizers.”

She looked at me and smiled. “Now you’re getting into it,” she said. “But I think we’re also going to need some of those mussels. Is that too much?”

I shook my head. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Perfect.”

And an hour later, we were in the car, stuffed and happy, heading south.

“So do you take all your dates to Disney World?” I asked. We’d been in the car a half hour or so and had reached a lull in the conversation. I was feeling strangely calm, given my cautious character and the enormity of this adventure I had agreed to undertake.

“No,” she said. “But I do like to take people where they need to go.”

“And why exactly do I need to go to Disney World?”

“Oh, just a feeling I have. Something about your sad Eeyore eyes and the papers you have to grade. I don’t know what your ex-wife was like—and I’m not asking, that’s just not good date conversation—but I bet she never would have taken you to Disney World.”

“Well, you’re right there.” I was silent for a moment. “But what about you? Why don’t we go someplace you need to go?”

“Oh, I’ve been to most of those places already. Anyway, I never know where I need to be until I get there.”

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds very deep.”

“Well, then,” she said. “It’s time to play a word game.”

We played games, off and on, all through the night. By four A.M., we were somewhere in South Carolina. We’d been driving for seven hours. I was getting sleepy.

“I don’t think I can go much farther,” I said. “Do you feel awake enough to drive, or should we find someplace to stop?”

“I can drive for a while,” she said. “I’m a night person. Plus, I dozed a little earlier. Let’s just get me some coffee.”

We pulled off at the next exit. We found a gas station with an all-night convenience store, and while Lexy went in for coffee, I climbed over to the passenger side and put the seat back as far as it would go. As I eased myself into the softness of the seat, I thought for a moment, This is exactly where I want to be. I was asleep before she got back to the car.

I awoke to find a small girl peering at me through the window. I stirred a little and found that it was daylight, and we were in a rest stop parking lot. Lexy wasn’t in the seat beside me; I turned and saw that she had crawled into the backseat and curled into a ball.

I looked again at the girl standing by my window. “Mommy, there’s a man sleeping in there,” I heard her say.

Without sitting up, I raised my hand and waved.

“He just waved at me,” she said, her voice filled with horrified delight.

“Get away from there, April,” her mother said. “Come on, this is just a quick potty break.”

“But shouldn’t I wave back?” the girl asked.

“No. Don’t wave at strangers. It’s a bad thing to do.”

I heard Lexy move in the backseat. “Don’t wave at strangers,” she said sleepily. “I love how parents make up the rules as they go along.”

“Yeah,” I said. “She’s going to grow up with some sort of strange waving complex.” I watched as the girl and her mother walked across the parking lot toward the concrete octagon containing the rest rooms. Without turning back toward me, the girl stretched her hand out behind her and gave a small, secret wave, then skipped on ahead toward the building.

I laughed. “I take it back,” I said. “She knows what’s going on.”

I looked at the clock. It was nine A.M. “How long have we been here?” I asked.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and stretched her arms. “Since about seven,” she said. “I needed a break.”

“Any idea where we are?” I asked.

“Somewhere near Savannah, I think. Come on, let’s stretch our legs and then go get some breakfast.”

We went to freshen up in the rest stop bathrooms. I splashed some water on my face and looked at myself in the mirror. I was unshaven and my skin was creased from the fabric of the car seat, but I saw something in my face that I hadn’t seen in a long time. I looked relaxed, and happy. At peace. There was a small, easy smile on my lips. I felt exuberant, I felt the day stretched before me, filled with promise. I couldn’t wait to spend it with Lexy. I straightened my clothes and walked out into the sunshine to take my place among the husbands and boyfriends waiting for their women to come out of the bathroom.

Breakfast, which we ate at a roadside coffee shop, presented some problems. As we slid into the booth, Lexy said, “I think we’re going to need to establish some ground rules here. About eating.”

It took me a minute, but I finally got it. “Oh,” I said. “You mean, so we don’t accidentally end our date somewhere on I-95.”

“Right,” she said. “I’d hate to see it end here at the Waffle House.”