Whisked Away

The bumpy section of highway pulled Michael from his sleep, the last of the four boys to wake up in the backseat of the tiny Volkswagon Golf. Lifting his head from his windowsill pillow, he saw the sun peeking just above the pine trees off the side of Interstate 77.

Michael didn’t remember falling asleep in the car. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Just taking a trip to see Grandma and Grandpa.” That was the only explanation he would get from his parents. He didn’t press.

He whispered to his older brother, “Randy, where are we going?”

“They just said to see Grandma."

“I didn’t know we were going to visit Grandma this summer.”

“Well, we are. Shh!”

Grandma and Grandpa’s house. Michael smiled. He'd get to eat breakfast every morning. Eggs, hash browns, pancakes. Cereal if Grandma chose not to cook that day. They never had cereal at home, or eggs, or breakfast at all. 

Grandma and Grandpa’s house meant hugs, yard sales on weekends, not having to share a bed with three brothers, and dinner around the table. Mommy acting like she loved him. Banana pudding and card games. Wheel of Fortune. Jeopardy. No bloody beatings from Daddy. The Price is Right.

Michael leaned his head back down on the windowsill and fantasized about his grandparents' house as the trees passed in a blur.

***

Daddy didn’t stop until well past Columbia. The Citgo gas station just off the highway had one working bathroom and one of those keys with a wooden block attached. Michael wondered who would ever want to steal a highway gas station bathroom key.

After emptying his bladder, Michael searched for Mommy. He found her waiting in line at the register with a large bottle of water in her hand.

“I’m hungry Mommy.”

“Ok?”

“Can we get something to eat?”

“Nope. We’re just stopping for gas and getting back on the road.”

He knew better than to ask her again. She wouldn’t hesitate to slap him in front of his brothers, the store clerk, and Jesus Christ himself if Michael angered her. Backtalk, his parents called it. He once thought he knew what the term meant. With how many times they punished him for talking back when he was just defending himself, he’d realized he had no clue.

He trudged out to the car. Randy was standing outside the door. “Your turn to sit inside.”   Michael groaned; this was why he’d waited to go last in the bathroom so he’d be last to the car. Last to get in, with only the window seat left.

He wanted to protest, but Daddy was already back in the driver’s seat and wasn't in a good mood. He hadn’t spoken a word all trip. He wasn't even drinking a beer. He kept looking at the gas station's doors and cussing to himself.

Rather than risk a spanking, Michael got in and wrapped the waist-only seatbelt around both him and Daniel. Randy climbed in behind, buckled his seatbelt, then spread his legs wide leaving no room for Michael's right leg. He shifted it to the left side of the backseat.

Mommy came out and got an earful. “I told you to hurry the hell up, Sherry. We don’t have time for this shit.”

“I’m sorry, the boys had to pee. I figured I could buy this before they got done.”

"You figured?? Damnit woman..."

"We didn't take too long. And I doubt they’re already coming for us Gerald."

Daddy didn’t respond, at least not in words. He punched the gas, his anger apparent as he burned out of the parking lot. The shoulder seatbelt kept Matt from flying across the backseat. Michael and Daniel weren’t so lucky. Randy shoved them off as if they'd jumped him on purpose. They were back on the highway before the backseat even sorted itself out.#***#As the sun continued to rise, South Carolina’s summer heat overtaxed the hatchback’s weak air conditioner. Michael wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

“Can I have some water Mommy?”

The bottle from Citgo appeared in front of him, a drop of cold condensation falling from the bottom and landing on his bare knee. The bottle came with a condition.

“Share!” The standing order for all things with four brothers in the family.

As soon as the bottle touched Michael’s lips, he felt it jerk. Daniel wanted water too; he began whining.

“I said share!”

He released the bottle to Daniel’s control. “But Mommy, I…”

The ringing in his ear registered before the burning sting did. Tears soon followed as her arm retracted to the front seat.

“Don’t backtalk your mother.” It was the first time Daddy spoke since they left the store. “And dry them tears, ‘fore I give you a reason to cry.” Michael shoved the meaty part of his thumbs into his eye socket, pulling them across to remove any signs of sobbing. The red eyes would take more time. He couldn’t help that.

The bottle was passed around, each getting a turn before it was returned to Mommy. “Now be quiet,” she demanded.

***

The sign at the Georgia state line had a big peach and “Welcome to Georgia” in big block letters. Michael didn’t notice it until Matt nudged him. “We’re almost there.”

“No we’re not. We still have a couple of hours to go.”

“Yeah, but we’re out of South Carolina.”

Michael sat up, noticing that the sign announcing entry into Georgia. It was much faster than he’d remembered the trip taking when Grandpa drove. The tiny Volkswagon zoomed by yet another minivan.

Once in Georgia, he slumped back into the seat, arms pinned tightly to his sides. Nowhere to lean but straight back. Nothing to do but close his eyes…

An elbow in his ribs returned him to the conscious world. 

“Look, Florida!”

He didn’t realize he’d dozed off. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and looked for the Welcome to Florida sign.

Matt informed him that he was too late. “It’s behind us now.”

Michael turned and saw the back of the sign, and it was enough to cause his heart to skip a beat. We’re here! We’re almost at Grandma’s!

No more sleeping; he was wide-awake now. Every mile, every exit they passed increased the pounding in his chest. He read each, looking for one he recognized. Anything to indicate they were close.

As they approached the Pecan Park Road exit, he recalled the exit Grandpa took whenever they went to the flea market. He smiled a big, toothy smile and bounced in his seat. 

Randy shoved him. “Sit still! Stop…”

"SHIT! Shit shit shit. Hold on." Daddy swerved quickly, crossing two lanes to take the flea market exit. Michael doubted he was heading to the flea market.

"What? What happened Gerald?"

"Cop."

"Damnit..."

Michael knew what that meant; cops were trouble. Every time Daddy had seen a cop, as far back as Michael could remember, everything changed. Daddy's mood. The way he drove. The speed they were going. Even the beer Daddy would be drinking would get hidden behind a boy’s legs or thrown out the passenger window.

This was no different. At the end of the exit, the car slowed for just a moment at the red light before making a sharp, screeching left. They sped up, much faster than they were going on the highway. At a dirt road, Daddy slammed on the brakes, coming to a near halt before swerving into the dirt. After rounding the first turn, Daddy turned the key and removed it from the ignition.

"Shh. No one say a word." His tone was flat, cold. No one dared disobey, not even Mommy.

The silent wait lasted for what seemed like an eternity. Minutes passed without so much as a burp or sneeze from the backseat.

"Looks like they missed us."

"Thank god."

"Let's hurry up and get these kids to your Mother's."

The car began to move, and the moment passed. Randy turned and stared out the rear window. Daniel laid his head back on Michael's shoulder. Michael started bouncing again in his excitement.

It was like the episode never happened.

"How much longer, Mommy?"

"Ten more minutes. We'll be there soon."

Grandma and Grandpa's house. I can't wait!