A Road Trip with Returns

A Road Trip with Returns

Once a year her Aunt Anna came to visit with her rich husband and two spoiled children. Gillian looked forward to these holidays because her aunt enjoyed showing off her wealth to her sibling, Gillian’s father. They would arrive in their new car (a new one each year) and take Gillian’s family to restaurants, a rare treat for them. Over the visit, Gillian and cousins would be transported to amusement parks, the cinema and baseball games. Wherever they went they were allowed to fill up on ice cream and be given a souvenir t-shirt or soft toy to take home. It was like Christmas but more bountiful.

Spending time with her cousin Rafe and his little brother Alex wasn’t the highlight of the summer sojourn - it was the munificence that came in their wake. As she was tagging along, whatever they begged for had to be purchased for Gillian as well. She was careful to avoid asking for anything, waiting silently while they whined. On the rare occasions when they didn’t get what they wanted, full scale tantrums would result. Then Gillian’s model behaviour would be held up in comparison and her cousins would look daggers at her, disgusted that she had broken ranks with them. She would just shrug and smile as her aunt or her uncle bought her an extra bag of sweets or a new doll in reward.

“Gillian never complains and she always remembers to say thank you,” her aunt would remind her own children. Damn straight she didn’t complain. Her father would have wrung her neck (not literally but if looks could kill…). As far as gratitude went, her mother sat her down after every visit from Aunt Anna’s family and made Gillian write a detailed letter of thanks.

“Children who don’t know how to say thank you don’t deserve gifts,” her mother would intone. The one time that Gillian had lagged with an expression of appreciation, all the bounty from her beneficent aunt and uncle was collected and taken to a charity shop. Her parents did not think of themselves as strict; they were merely instilling good manners. Gillian had to admit that her mother’s adage had worked to her advantage.

This year, however, was going to be different. Her aunt and uncle arrived with the latest model estate wagon. They were collecting Gillian and taking her with them on a road trip, without her parents. She would get to be a member of a family with no money worries and no rules for two whole weeks. She couldn’t pack her bag fast enough. Her parents gave her a hug good-bye and told her to behave, nodding she leapt into the care and didn’t even turn around to wave good-bye.

The motorway was smooth and straight as they headed out of the city. Gillian was sitting in the back of the car with Rafe and Alex. They played ‘I Spy’ for a while and then Alex said he was bored (really, he just wasn’t good at the game). He begged his mother to put a children’s CD in the player. Turning off her own music, Aunt Anna complied, filling the car with the raucous tunes of Old MacDonald, complete with animal noises. The boys overdid the pig sounds. Gillian didn’t join them. She was starting to feel a bit queasy. They were heading up into the mountains and the road wasn’t so straight anymore.

The boys got hungry so they stopped for fast food – burgers, chips and shakes. Gillian didn’t like burgers so she only got a shake and some chips. She had a few chips but they didn’t sit well in her stomach. She gave her portion to Rafe and sipped slowly on her shake, hoping the soothing milk would settle her bubbling innards.

At the end of the day, they drove up to a magnificent hotel. It was set on a lake and had white pillars, just like a mansion. The reception area boasted a chandelier above a polished hard wood floor. Gillian trailed behind the rest of the party as they approached the reception desk. She had carried her own backpack in but a bellboy was being sent for the family’s luggage. She thought she would sit down on the sofa while keys and rooms were sorted out. She put her head down between her legs, hoping it would help.

“Gillian,” her aunt called. She sat up abruptly when called and immediately regretted her response. The room began to spin. The shake reversed its way through her digestive tract and before she could stop herself, she vomited. And vomited some more. And when there was absolutely nothing left in her gut, she brought up a mouthful of yellow bile to top off the pool of emesis spreading across the shiny reception floor.

“Ewww,” said Alex.

“Gross,” said Rafe.

She felt her aunt grab her arm, the long, manicured nails sticking into the flesh, leaving marks that Gillian could see hours later.

“I’m so sorry,” Aunt Anna said to the concierge, “I’ll take her to her room immediately. We will leave an extra gratuity for the cleaning lady.”

Gillian was deposited in the shower. She had got sick on herself. She would need to rinse off her t-shirt and shorts as she had only brought a few clothes. Her aunt and uncle, Rafe and Alex would go to dinner without her. She would feel better in the morning. Aunt Anna instructed her to drink some water.

She did. She was fine in the morning and could join the boys in the hotel pool and later in the game room. She ate her meals (she was starving for breakfast) and kept everything down.

“The milk must have been off in her shake,” her uncle observed as Gillian chased after her cousins to play crazy golf.

After two days enjoying the environs of the hotel, it was decided they would take a tour of the lake. The kids were told to have a big breakfast as there would only be sandwiches available on the boat trip. Gillian had eggs, bacon and pancakes swimming in maple syrup. She ate so much that the top button of her shorts pressed against her stomach. She didn’t like sandwiches and had decided that breakfast would need to keep her full all day.

It was warm but with a fresh breeze, whipping up the water in the lake so that the cruise was a bit bouncy. Not rough, just enough swell to make spray splash the children as they crowded the rail. Alex and Rafe shrieked with excitement as the bow hit a wave. Gillian gripped the rails tight with her two hands. Her breakfast seemed to be going up and down with the rhythm of the boat. And then it was only going up. She leaned over the side and said good-bye to eggs, bacon and those two little sausages she had added it, along with the pancakes and anything else that might have been lurking in her stomach. A crew member pulled her away from the rail before she toppled over, weak with the efforts of continued peristalsis. Her aunt appeared, summoned from below where she had been enjoying a cocktail. She took Gillian to the toilet made her wash her face and then told her to sit down and stare at the horizon. Gillian did her best but still needed to run to the restroom twice during the journey.

Limp and none to fresh smelling, Gillian was returned to her room to wash. She didn’t even ask if she could have dinner. She didn’t think she could ever eat again.

“We’re leaving the hotel today and taking the scenic route to see a canyon with a waterfall,” her uncle announced at breakfast. Gillian had been offered dry toast.

“You need to have a light meal,” her aunt instructed. “That will be easier to digest.”

“And less to bring up if you are sick again,” her uncle said in a grim tone.

Gillian didn’t like toast even with jam and butter and nobody likes dry toast. She took a few bites and tried to say thank you but the words got caught between the brittle crusts.

When they got in the car, Gillian sat by the window and hung her head out like a dog. She did not join in with the boys when they started counting red cars. When they took out a packet of crisps, she scooted herself as far away from them as possible. The onion and vinegar smell adding to her nausea.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Rafe asked. He had moved onto a bag of peanuts and waved the package in her direction. Of course she was hungry. He had seen her pick at her bread and water breakfast while he consumed six pancakes. And she loved peanuts. She took one. She would eat it and see how it sat within her.

She made it to the destination without vomiting. Her aunt had been right. Light meals were the answer. All the same, she hung back as the family went towards the viewing platform to gaze in awe at the great depth of the canyon. She was beginning to feel that her presence was less welcome than it had been at the beginning of the trip.

“Don’t you want to see it?” Her aunt was gesturing towards her, smiling. Maybe Gillian had been forgiven for her gastrointestinal transgressions. She crept forward and looked down. It seemed to go on forever. It made her dizzy looking at it. And then, the one peanut made an abrupt exit into the abyss.

“I only gave her one peanut,” Rafe confessed. “I didn’t think that would make her sick.” His mother managed a look that would have made Medusa jealous. Gillian wondered if her father or her aunt had started the family tradition of the evil eye.

They spent a single night at the scenic location. It seemed her Aunt Anna’s family had lost their sense of adventure. It was decided that they would head back the next day and return Gillian to her family. On the ride home, she was placed in the back of the estate wagon with the window down. She managed to liberally decorate the rear of the vehicle by the time they got home, her cousins making sounds of revulsion each time Gillian heaved. Her aunt turned up the music on the radio in an attempt to drown out the sound of retching.

On arrival, Gillain was removed from the car with her belongings and handed to her mother. Her cousins and their parents drove off to a car wash. After a large meal, they would check into an elegant hotel. Tomorrow they would take the kids to a shopping mall. The retail opportunities in the mountains had been limited. Gillian had not even scored one souvenir.

“You need to write to your aunt and uncle and tell them how grateful you are,” her mother instructed the next morning. If we send a letter today, it will get to their house just as they arrive home. Won’t that be a nice surprise for them?”

Gillian was busy tucking into a large breakfast of waffles with bananas on top. She had no intention of writing a thank you note. Anything she had been given on the trip had been returned.