The Price of Vice

It started on a Tuesday in Tucumcari, New Mexico. Early in the morning before the sun woke, still half-asleep, Olivia rolled her neck and ran her fingers through her persistent tangles. With a wince, she turned onto her side and fumbled for her phone. Usually waking before eight meant a faulty alarm or an impending disaster.

The screen’s sharpness sparked tears, and she wiped at them aimlessly while she thumbed through the latest texts; there were four new ones from her mother all dated within the past hour. Swearing, she sat up and dialed the familiar number.

“Mama?”

“I hope you’re calling from a gas station,” her mother said tartly. “You know how I feel about calls from the car.”

“Yeah,” said Olivia, tucking a snarled curl behind her ear. “No, I mean, it’s-it’s all wireless now: bluetooth.”

She knew her mother would pass over the comment to avoid looking ignorant, as there was little chance she knew what bluetooth meant. Fortune indeed favored the bold, and her mother continued seamlessly: “Well, how close are you? I’m guessing you passed Wichita Falls at least an hour or two ago.”

“Only half an hour,” Olivia lied. “Minor crash on one of the long, single lane off-roads—it took forever to get resolved.”

Mrs. Banks tutted. “They don’t know how to drive out there in the city, do they? So? Your ETA?”

“Um.” Olivia glanced out the window at the dark sky. She chewed on her lip while she struggled to stall.

“Honestly, Olivia, it’s a simple question. I knew you should have just flown over.”

“You know how I feel about flying,” Olivia said, moving on to biting at her cuticles.

“At least tell me you’ll be here before sunset; I don’t want to have to leave a key under the mat for you.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll talk to you later, mama.” Olivia ended the call and groaned, dropping her phone to her side and pressing the heel of her palms to her eyes. “Shit! Aw, shit.”

Even as the morning crept forward, minute by minute, Olivia lay in bed. It was still doable—reaching Rosepine before night—but she felt paralyzed by her lies; they were so bountiful she hardly knew how to keep them straight.

Her head swam enough that she finally roused and made a strong cup of coffee. Packing went quickly enough; she was only supposed to be there until Thursday, though she’d called off work for Friday, too; another lie. Yanking her brush through her hair, she gave up half-way through and drew up a messy bun that was far from fashionably tousled.

By five, she was speeding along the interstate, sipping her over-roasted coffee, and humming along to the radio. As she passed through Amarillo, she caught sight of a young woman standing by the side of the road a few hundred feet down. Stopping meant slamming on the brakes—likely halving her car’s lifespan—but she’d been feeling generous and restless since her third cup of coffee.

The woman looked relieved as Olivia rolled down the window.

“Hey there.”

“Glad to see you,” the woman said, her accent unfamiliar. “I was starting to think no one came down these roads.”

“It is a bit early,” Olivia said, watching the single other car speed past them. “So, need a lift somewhere?”

“Anywhere south works for me,” said the woman with a shrug. She kept her purse clutched closely to her; save for that and a thin backpack, she had nothing. “Where are you headed?”

“Louisiana,” Olivia said, and at the woman’s nod, unlocked the car.

“Get in.”

The woman settled easily, then sighed and turned in her seat to smile at Olivia. “Thanks. I’m Sam.”

“Olivia.”

“So what’s down in Louisiana?”

“A wedding,” Olivia said, managing to sound only slightly bitter.

“Someone you ain’t fond of?”

“Varies by day—my brother.”

Sam nodded. “Got three of my own, but I’m closest with the youngest. And my sister.”

“Big family,” Olivia said; she slid the radio knob down to hear better. “Are you on your way to visit any of ‘em?”

“Ah, sorta,” Sam said, rubbing her neck where the small hairs of her pixie cut stuck out. It was a light blonde that tinted gold when the rising sun hit. Olivia herself had tried a similar cut in college, but while her hair resisted order, Sam’s curls sat neatly over her forehead and ears. “Guess I owe my sister a favor, in a way.”

“It must be a big one if you’ve resorted to hitch-hiking.”

Sam barked a laugh. “Nah, don’t got a license.”

“Oh.” Olivia fell quiet and shifted in her seat.

“Is what it is,” said Sam. “This is certainly cheaper than maintaining a car—’course I’ll help with gas.”

“I’m heading south anyway,” Olivia pointed out. “So where’s your sister?”

“Louisiana, too, actually. Mighty lucky for me.”

“I’ll only be going into Vernon.”

“That’s fine by me; the parish I want is before that.”

Olivia hummed her assent. “I’m on a bit of a tight schedule, you see, so I’ll be making as few stops as possible.”

Sam yawned and nodded. “I’ll probably take a nap, if you don’t mind the silence.”

“Hell, this morning I set out thinking I was making an eleven and a half hour car ride alone,” Olivia said. Sam grinned and shuffled around until she had curled up against the window. “Sweet dreams.”

***

Olivia drove the next three hours with only the radio on low as her company. Sam had nodded off near instantaneously and now slept with her head tucked into her chest. Olivia sympathized with the crick she was eventually going to rise with—but not enough to jostle her awake.

Almost as quickly as she fell asleep, Sam woke and stretched. With a satisfied grunt, she said, “Mornin’. Where we at?”

“Just passed Wichita Falls,” said Olivia. “Which, incidentally, is where I told my mama I was six hours ago.”

Sam laughed. “Ooh, ain’t that gonna get you into a world of trouble when you’re six hours late?”

“I just gotta be there by sundown—she’ll think I stopped for long breaks, and I’m not about to convince her otherwise.”

“Wise choice. So, Miss Olivia, do you mind if I smoke a cigarette?”

Olivia made a half-hearted gesture. “Just open the window. I grew up with a chain-smoking father; I’m more than used to it, but I like to keep my car somewhat free of it.”

“Fine by me,” Sam said cheerfully. Soon, a cigarette sat between her thin fingers and she blew a ring of smoke out into the air. “You know what they say about an eye for an eye? Feel like that holds for vices, too; you drop one and another picks you right up.”

“Had a lot of all-nighters in college,” said Olivia, her hand briefly itching to pick up her coffee cup, which had been empty for the past sixty miles. “Guess the caffeine dependency stuck.”

And the lying, of course.

“Hmm, that sounds a lot more elegant than smoking,” Sam mused. “Or drinking.”

“AA?”

“Nah, just a lot of broken relationships and lost jobs.”

Olivia grimaced, keeping her eyes away from Sam. “Ah.”

“Oh, no need to make that face,” said Sam, finally snubbing out her cigarette and dropping it in the empty ashtray. “What? You don’t think every smoker litters, too, do you?”

“Only knew my daddy.”

“Well, I think it’s a nasty habit. Mine are too, don’t get me wrong. Maybe I’ll start littering once I finally kick the cigarettes.”

“It’d be better for your body,” Olivia offered. She didn’t think highly of litterers. “Hey, can you reach in the backseat and grab the blue bag? It’s got some jerky in it. Didn’t have the time or appetite for breakfast.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Sam said, digging into her backpack and pulling out a bag of sweet chili pork jerky.

Olivia whistled. “Good taste.”

“Ooh, back atcha.” Sam ripped open the bag and held out a few pieces. Olivia did her best to keep her fingers clean. “So, since we’ve bonded over our vices and food taste, ain’t you curious about what I owe my sister?”

Olivia’s mouth dropped slightly, unsure how to respond. “I mean…”

Sam waved her off. “No need to dance around it. We’ve got another what, seven? hours to fill.”

“Just about,” said Olivia carefully. “I reckon it’s worth stopping in Dallas if for nothing other than coffee.”

“I could go for a cup,” Sam said.

“So. Your sister.”

Sam laughed and Olivia flushed. “Ah, it ain’t nosy if I brought it up. Suppose I wanted to tell someone. Well, two years ago my sister’s boyfriend was fixing to propose to her at our Christmas party. I went ring shopping with him, since I knew her style best; and he had me hold onto the thing so she couldn’t stumble across it. I was out of work at that time—couldn’t stay sober during the day. And the ring was the most expensive thing in my apartment by far.

“I didn’t even get a third of its value back, but what I got I spent on booze: vodka, whisky, tequila. At the party, I’d been drinking all day and was sitting by the toilet when he came and asked for the ring. It wasn’t a pretty picture; his yelling drew my sister over; I got called a drunkard; and my sister said she didn’t want to see me again until I’d been at least three months sober.”

“Err, wow,” said Olivia, somewhat regretting her initial encouragement.

With a graceful shrug, Sam drew one leg up on the seat and flush against her chest. Her cheeks were pinkened from sunburn, but a slight blush managed to radiate through. “I know whatever I do can’t erase that party, but—well, I’ve been sober a year and two months. Figured it was about time.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said, curling her fingers over the steering wheel.

“Well, I hope the reunion goes smoothly.”

“One can only hope,” Sam agreed.

“Did uh, your sister ever get married to her boyfriend?”

“Yeah, last Winter. I’d only been sober six months, though, and there was an open bar. Didn’t want to risk it. Sometimes I wonder if that was a hint from her.”

Olivia offered a sympathetic hum.

“Well, enough about me,” Sam decided. “Tell me about your brother.”

“Oh, well, we aren’t very close—never have been. Our parents divorced when we were kids, ‘bout two decades ago; I went with daddy and Theo went with mama. Last I saw him in person was 08.”

“Damn, and I thought two years was long.”

“It’s different, I think, when you were never really close,” Olivia said. “But it felt wrong to miss his wedding, even if we skipped each other’s high school and college graduations. Well, his college graduation, at least.”

“Didn’t go?”

“Dropped out,” Olivia admitted. “Or, well, flunked. Whatever. Certainly no reason to celebrate that. Daddy was real disappointed in me. I think that was the worst of it all.”

“Ah, it don’t mean nothing—just a piece of paper. My family couldn’t afford it, not with five kids,” Sam said, then grinned. “Guess I took one for the team.”

Olivia smiled politely. It was a sore spot, but she wanted Sam to like her. Maybe, then, she shouldn’t be telling so much about herself.

***

They stopped in Dallas where the air was sticky and hot, like breathing against a leather sofa. Sam was perfectly content to spend no more than five minutes grabbing a coffee and running to the bathroom, but Olivia insisted; they spent forty minutes at a shabby-looking but decent diner. The walls were a washed-out olive color; the counters stark white and artificial; the waitress’s smile crooked and exhausted.

Olivia downed three more cups of coffee around her thin slice of Apple pie.

Sam managed to go through a full breakfast platter and a piece of coffee cake. She washed it down with black coffee and sighed, pleased. “You really know where to take a girl, Miss Olivia.”

Olivia smiled; it was sincere this time. “I really just picked it on the map. I don’t spend much time in Dallas—or in Texas at all, for that matter.”

“No? You a Northern gal?”

“Not really; I grew up in New Mexico, near the border of Texas.”

“Never been,” Sam said, stabbing at crumbs with no real interest. “You recommend it? Maybe I’ll do some traveling after this.”

Olivia shrugged and wrapped her hands around her mug; the coffee was bitter and lukewarm, but she’d poured enough creamer to pretend it wasn’t. “I don’t know. I’ve nothing against either state. Or Louisiana. States are different, but they’re really all the same in the end, aren’t they? Doesn’t matter where you are; you’re still the same, and you bleed more into the state than it does into you.”

Sam watched her curiously. “Suppose you right, after all.”

A bit flustered, Olivia finished her coffee and stood. “I’ve gotta fill the tank. I’ll be back in a few.”

“No worries; food’s on me.”

Olivia took her time, watching the fuel gauge tick forward until it threatened to burst. Dutifully, she wiped down the windows and scraped off the bird crap. It was nearly two and the heat was getting unbearable. Sam joined her a minute later, fashioned with a cigarette and a to-go bag.

“Leftovers?”

Sam shook her head. “Candy, from the gas station. You a fan of sour gummy worms?”

“A fanatic,” Olivia said.

Sam laughed and slipped past her. By the time they were on the road again, she’d goaded Olivia into catching the candy in her mouth; but Sam was a terrible shot, and most of the worms fell helplessly to the car floor while the two women laughed and laughed.

Around the time they reached Marshall, about two and a half hours out, Sam had gone pale and quiet, staring at the endless fields.

Olivia cleared her throat; it burned with dehydration. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I’m headed for Rosepine myself,” she continued, “but if you need to stop before then…”

“Yeah, actually. Pleasant Hill.”

Olivia glanced at her phone. It was on the way to Rosepine, an hour and a half away from their current spot. All of a sudden, nine hours felt like a tremendously short span of time. She stared back at the road, weariness overcoming her.

“Phone’s buzzing.”

“Mind pressing accept?”

Her mother’s voice came out reedy: “Olivia?”

“Hi mama.”

“Well? I’d like to know if you’re planning on renting a hotel room tonight.”

“No, I’ll be there by five, five-thirty at the latest,” Olivia said, watching Sam from her peripheral. “Is that still in time for a key?”

“It’s bearable,” her mother said after a beat of consideration. “I hope you bought that teal dress I recommended.”

Olivia laughed a little hysterically. “Bit late for a reminder, mama. You’ll like my dress, promise.”

“Okay, honey. See you by supper.”

“Bye mama. Love you.” After Sam ended the call, Olivia swallowed and confessed, “That was a little embarrassing.”

A weak smile sat on Sam’s face. “It was sweet. Made me miss my own mama.” She didn’t look like she wanted to be questioned about it, so Olivia stayed silent. To her dismay, the remainder of the drive to Pleasant Hill progressed in a similar fashion.

“Do you have an address of sorts?” Olivia asked as they passed the town sign. “Not—you can just give me the address of a restaurant or something nearby. I’ll drop you there.”

“If you were going to murder me, you’d have done it hours ago,” Sam said and winked. “Here, I’ll put it in your phone.”

She fell quiet again after doing so. Olivia’s phone chirped an alert of arrival fifteen minutes later as she pulled up to a cemetery.

“Oh,” Olivia said, gutted.

Sam ignored her and fumbled for a cigarette. “Heart attack—at thirty-one. What kind of world, huh? Always looking back and wondering if I coulda done something, eased her stress level instead of being half of it.”

Olivia shifted in her seat, all too aware of the seatbelt that dug into her chest and the words that lodged themselves in her throat.

“Thanks for the lift,” Sam said quietly and dropped a roll of tens into the empty cupholder. “And the company.”

“Do you, um,” Olivia started, then broke into a meager cough. “Flowers?”

Sam’s expression fell.

“No! I mean…” Olivia unbuckled herself and reached forward; she grabbed the swaying sunflower dashboard ornament and offered it to Sam through awkward fingers.

Sam stared at her briefly, then laughed, incredulous. “I couldn’t.”

“I insist,” said Olivia. “Look, I’ll go with you.”

Eventually, Sam shrugged and opened the passenger door. “‘S a free country.”

They kneeled by the small grave for ten minutes; Sam sent Olivia a wan smile and set the flower pot in front of the headstone.

Olivia’s phone beeped a timed reminder and she stood, thinking of the coveted house key and the teal dress she hadn’t glanced at for more than a minute. Of her heart’s erratic thrum from caffeine and the ready lies pooling at her lips. She reached for Sam’s wrist. “Come with me.”

Sam’s gaze was wary through eyes puffy and red. Her knees were covered with dirt, and there was a long scrape against her arm where she’d knocked into the cemetery gate. Finally, she said in a stilted tone: “I don’t have a dress.”

“The wedding’s not until tomorrow afternoon. And I’ve got a car.”

Sam rose in silence, her wrist still dangling in Olivia’s loose grip.

“You can do my makeup,” Olivia suggested. “I never get the eyeliner straight.”

“Okay,” said Sam, ducking her head. She seemed to find her courage quickly enough and flashed a grin. “What the hell, why not?”

They made it to Rosepine by five-twenty.