Hermie

What if a problem isn't a problem after all? What if the perspective is the problem, and the not-problem is actually a blessing in disguise?

She looks back at her dashboard.

"Turn left." 

Her daughter has programmed the mystery woman to have a British accent, so she's named her Hermione, after some wizard girl, because she swears that this box of a woman is magical and is going to change her life.

"Thank you, Hermie."

"Mom, she isn't real. She can't hear you." Her daughter takes a long sip of her Slurpee. It's 90 degrees out, and she's stuck in the car, air conditioner broken. She crosses all her fingers (mentally, so she doesn't drop her cup) that this GPS works. Her mother is famous for her road trips. She's infamous for getting lost on them.

They're supposed to be going to the beach today. The umbrella and cooler are crammed in the backseat, and Gretchen is already stripped down to her bikini top. She steals a roadmap from the glove box to fan herself.

"Looks like this junk is good for something after all." She attempts to close the box, forcing papers just to close it again.

"Hey, each one of those maps tells a story." Ingrid cranks her window down. There's hardly a breeze, but the air in the car is stale, and all she can smell is the air freshener her daughter hung in the mirror before they took off.

New car scent. Oh, the irony. 

Her daughter would love for her mother to join the rest of the twenty first century. It's impossible to get her to see her side of things, to agree that technology can be a good thing.

Like last month, when she took her to the library to use the computer. She got distracted by a book on display, and then ran into Betty from her knitting club, and by the time she had been sat in front of the monitor, all hope had been lost. 

"But ma, you can talk to your friends on here."

"I just finished talking to Betty."

"You can read articles."

"News bores me. I just want to read my book. Can we go now?"

Ingrid has this tendency to be what Gretchen likes to call a stick in the mud. Which Ingrid loves, because she says that dogs love playing around in the mud, and sticks, and she rather likes dogs.

It's amazing how she can make anything sound optimistic when she wants to.

If only she wanted to.

"Once upon a time, there was a tree. And that tree sacrificed itself to become a map that only seems to get my mother lost more." She takes another sip at her Slurpee to disguise her smile.

She steals a glance at the map in her hand. It's from their trip to New York. They had been trying to make it to Niagara Falls. Gretchen had been moping in the backseat, complaining that they had running water at home, and what made it so special, just because it wasn't in a faucet?

Her mother had been reading the map upside down and ended up going down the wrong street. She pulled to the side, right on top of something pointy. She forgets what, but it was enough to pop her tire, and they ended up walking up the street to get a half dozen donuts while they waited for someone to come change their tire. Her mother had let her eat two donuts that day, and she had held one in each hand, because she couldn't decide between glazed or Boston Crème.

The repair man had been nice enough to give them directions to the waterfall, and they'd arrived to a clear view. Turned out they had just missed the crowd.

"What's so wrong with getting lost?" Ingrid takes the map from her to fan herself. Gretchen notices another at her feet, picking it up.

"It's a waste of time."

This one is from Ohio. They were supposed to be visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. 

"You got Mr. Doodle on that trip." She nods to the map. "Never would have gotten him if we hadn't gone into that toy store for directions." 

That stuffed rooster was her best friend growing up. They had brought him along to the museum (the toy man gave very good directions) and on every trip that had followed. 

"Turn left."

"I can't, Hermie. It's a red light."

"Turn left."

"Hermie, that's illegal."

"Turn left."

Swat swat.

"Mom, she's just a computer. She doesn't know the light is red. I'm going to turn her back on." She presses the volume button.

"I can get to the beach on my own. Lemme just pull over and ask for directions."

Gretchen drains the remainder of her Slurpee to avoid raising her voice. Last time she raised her voice, her mother smashed a two hundred dollar smart phone with a hammer.

No, crazy technophobe mothers are not covered under the warranty.

Her mother goes into a nearby corner store. Gretchen takes the time to empty out the glove box into a bag tucked into the passenger side door. These things are going to get shredded, and she's going to let it rain ancient confetti. Goodbye old, hello Hermie.

She's busy stuffing the bag when she hears the shot. Her brain starts to rush, and it's not from the sugar. Someone has a gun. Where is her mother?

Where is she?

Cautiously, she removes the key from the ignition and opens her door. This is all her fault. Had she not suggested they take a beach trip to test out her new GPS, they wouldn't be out here, in the middle of a corner store robbery.

She takes out her phone to dial for the cops when they pull up behind her. The next few minutes are an adrenaline blur, but there's a hand reaching up to her face, wiping the tears away for her.

"Oh darling, it's so hot out, your eyeballs are sweating."

"Mom, you're alive!" 

"Your mother is a hero. Saved that young man's life." The cop takes off his hat to shake some of the sweat from his hair. 

Man, this heat must have her hallucinating.

When they're back in the car, with directions scribbled on a napkin, Ingrid presses the button to turn the GPS on.

"What are you doing? I thought you gave up on her."

"Gretchen, if we would have gotten lost, that man would be dead right now. Hermie saved that man's life."

"Hermie can't- Mom, that's not how that works. Besides you got directions."

Ingrid notices the bag of maps on the floor.

"What if we get lost?"

"Sometimes the best things in life come out of the detours."

"You don't say." She glances in her rearview mirror. "Hermie, take the rest of the afternoon off. You've earned it."

The bag of maps gets shoved back into the glove box.

And it stays there.