A Song for the Road by Kathleen Basi (classic literature books txt) đź“•
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- Author: Kathleen Basi
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“We can keep going, you know.” Dicey gestured with her pink spangled phone.
Miriam shook her head. “The point was to follow the kids’ directions.”
Dicey made a guttural sound of half-amused disgust. “Come on, Miriam, that was never the point.” But at the look on Miriam’s face, her bemusement faded. “Is that really why you did all this?”
Miriam sat up. “I did it because I was going to lose my job if I didn’t get my head on straight, and I thought maybe if I did this for my family, I’d stop feeling so shitty and get my life back together. But if the kids aren’t part of it, what’s the point?”
Dicey leaned forward. “To live, Miriam. To find your joy again. Look what you’ve become, how you’ve changed. You’ve … you’ve blossomed. When I met you, you had this cloud of darkness all around you.”
“And now I don’t?”
“Not like it was. You’ve had fun out here. When you forget to punish yourself, you’re this amazing woman who touches everyone you meet. You of all people know how little time we really have. How precious every moment is. Just embrace it, Miriam. Don’t squander the gift.”
“The gift. Like the trolls who passed judgment on my son?”
“Screw the trolls. Who cares about the trolls? I just want you to devour this experience! Swallow it whole! Life’s too short to live it by halves. That’s all I’m saying.” Dicey’s vehemence overtook her in the form of a brief coughing fit. She unscrewed a water bottle and drank deeply.
Miriam leaned her forearms on the steering wheel, thinking. “How would we go on?”
Dicey opened her phone. “When you said Talia had been working on it the spring before she died, I wondered if we might run out of destinations. I found this site the other day that lists quirky, cool places to see in every county in every state. So I figure, we say heads is north, tails is south, and either way we head west. We make our own destinations.” She waited a moment. “Miriam?”
Miriam stared at the mountainside beyond the glass. It would only delay the inevitable, but still, it was a delay. “All right,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
Part 8
Hooper, Colorado
Grief is the price we pay for love.
—Queen Elizabeth II
Dicey’s intro to the UFO Watchtower, Hooper, Colorado
H’lo, folks. I know, you’re thinking, “Who is this chick?” Well, the name’s Dicey. I’m the one who’s been making the videos. And just in case there’s any question? Yes. I’m totally preggers.
Sometimes you forget that all good things must come to an end. We weren’t ready for it, but it turns out the Tedesco Twins weren’t able to finish planning the Great American Road Trip before they passed away. We discovered earlier today that we were out of destinations. But never fear, we rose to the occasion. With the help of a little site called Local American Treasures, we’re back in business. We’ve got our nose pointed southwest, toward an itty-bitty town called Hooper, Colorado. A few years ago, a woman decided to become a rancher there. Only, not all acreage is cattle-friendly. So, since everybody is UFO obsessed in this part of the country, she figured, Hey, we’ll just go with it.
So tonight, we’re camping at the UFO Watchtower. We figured the Tedesco Twins would approve. We’ll be sure to report on any and all sightings, in real time. Over and out.
37
Saturday, May 7
Sunset
UFO Watchtower, near Hooper, Colorado
THE CLOUDS GATHERED BEHIND them as Miriam drove south. The radio announcers warned of a major late-season snowstorm bearing down on Colorado Springs, but it looked like they’d dodged the bullet. Gradually, the clouds thinned and the sun reclaimed the sky.
Meanwhile, Dicey slept. And slept. And slept. She’d nailed the introductory video, but within fifteen minutes, she’d crashed. She hadn’t moved a muscle since.
Miriam wanted food, but she couldn’t rouse her companion. She grabbed drive-thru, figuring if Dicey was that worn out, it was better to let her sleep off whatever bug she was fighting.
Except … Dicey had been with her eight days now, and the cough was no better. If anything, it was worse. Her mother’s admonition sounded more prescient every time she thought about it. But what could Miriam do, if Dicey wouldn’t let her help?
By the time they arrived at their destination, Dicey’s burger was cold.
“Dicey,” Miriam said, shaking her arm as she drove beneath the square timber arch marking the driveway to the UFO Watchtower. The handwritten sign proclaimed, “Come on in.” “Dicey, wake up. Come on, honey. Please. You’re scaring me.”
Dicey stirred and took a deep breath—or at least, she tried. She started hacking instead. Miriam had never been so grateful to hear coughing in her entire life.
The watchtower was a small, dome-shaped building with a metal platform around three sides and a rock garden in front. Across the valley, the sun was setting, orange light streaming across the flat ground to bathe the Sangre de Cristo Mountains in a light that made them live up to their name. It looked like something out of a Peter Jackson movie.
Dicey emerged from the car, still coughing, as a sixty-something couple clanked down the stairs dressed in matching jogging suits. “You’ve missed the lady of the manor,” said the man. “She went home for the night. You can pay your two dollars in the mailbox over there, though.”
“Is she okay?” asked the woman, peering anxiously at Dicey, who leaned over the hood of the Sonata, still coughing. Dicey held up a hand and nodded, but Miriam had reached her limit. First thing in the morning, they were going to find an urgent care clinic whether Dicey liked it or not.
But for now, she focused on the immediate issue. “You said the owner is gone? I thought you
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