The Guilt Trip [slow updates]

[7] Happy Meals and Sad Girls

Wade pulled into the drive thru lane behind several other cars; he was slightly annoyed at the number of people who all seemed to share the same idea of getting breakfast at the very crack of dawn.

   "Let me guess..." he ventured, speaking to the blanket bundle slumped against the passenger door, "You want a happy meal?"

   She didn't respond right away, so he started to reiterate. Halfway through, she interrupted him in a cold, annoyed tone. "Shut up, I heard you the first time."

   "Coulda fooled me," Wade muttered, staring down at the steering wheel which his hands had begun to grip. "So? Happy meal or nah?"

   "I told you before, I'm not hungry."  Rolling her eyes, she turned her head and slumped against the window again. "Feed yourself, see if I care."

   "I'll get you a happy meal."

   "No. I said I'm not hungry. Don't get me anything."

   "Yeah, you want a happy meal."

   "Stop it!" she screamed, so loudly that the driver in the car directly before them peered out their window to look back at them.

   "See, you're causing a scene. Just go back to sleep and I'll wake you when the happy meal's ready."

   "I'm not hungry! How many times do I have to say it before the words penetrate your thick-ass skull?!"

   "You sound hangry. You need a happy meal," Wade insisted, finally receiving his turn to  pull ahead and order. "If you don't eat it, I'll eat it. Okay?"

   "No." Peeling back her blanket, Skipper stared intensely at him. She was pale.

  "Oh gosh, are you okay? Why are you crying?"

   "No reason," she glowered. "None at all. I'm obviously fine."

   "Hey, look. I know I'm not the ideal travel companion, but I'm not entirely heartless. The fact that I'm even driving you around should prove that–"

   "Welcome to McDonald's! What can I get for you this morning?" A chipper female voice piped loudly through the speaker outside, cutting Wade off entirely.

   "Uh, I'm sorry, can you hang on a sec?" Wade responded, biting his lip.

  "Sure, of course!"

   "Chirpy," Wade muttered to himself with a shudder, turning back to Skipper. "I won't order you a happy meal if that's why you're crying. Would you at least like a coffee?"

    Skipper shook her head and planted it against the window again with a dull thud. "I can't drink coffee."

   "But you had an energy drink the other day?"

   "Just forget it," she snarled. "Don't order me anything."

   Shaking his head firmly, he turned back to the window. "Hi. Sorry about that. Can I get a six-piece nugget Happy Meal with fries instead of apples, and a McFlurry?"

   "Absolutely? Will that be all?" piped the chirpy girl.

   "Nope, I also need a medium mocha latte and hashbrowns."

   "Anything else?"

   "Nah, that should be good."

   "Ten fifty at the first window, please!"

   "Uh, thanks." Driving up to the first window, Wade pulled out his wallet and fished some crumpled bills out of it even though Skipper was punching his arm and that made things tricky. At some point, Charles must have awakened and now his tongue had entered the fray, tasting anything and everything he could. Skipper was yelling, upsetting the animal, and Wade simply had to grin and bear it as he paid the kid at the window and pulled on to wait for their food.

   "Quiet down, geez! Charles. No." Gently and lovingly, he stroked the creature's snout before nudging him away from Skipper. "I know it doesn't make sense, but she doesn't like you and it's not nice to lick people. I'll get your food in a minute, okay? You've been a very good boy. Sorry to wake you."

   Skipper rolled her eyes at all the sweet-talk directed toward an anteater, and chucked one of her crocs at Wade to let him know the McDonald's people were trying to give him his order.

   "Why must you act so inhuman?" Wade demanded with a shake of his head, once the food was safely within the vehicle and no employees were straggling.

   "I'm not. You are. You don't listen. I said I don't want food and you still bought me food. You think I'll change my mind."

   "No, I just don't like being told what to do," he shrugged, leaning his seat back and reclining there with his coffee. He sipped it calmly in rotation with the hash browns. Skipper's happy meal sat on the dash, all red and smiling and waiting for her to dig in. She stared at it queasily. Even if she did want it, there's no way she could eat it. She knew Wade was smugly watching her through the corner of his eye, and she decided there that she wouldn't give him a reaction. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being right.

   She wasn't hungry. She would not eat. He couldn't force her.

   Wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself, she leaned her cheek against the glass and shut her eyes. Cool air puffed through the vents across her skin, and the radio was still on the classical station. Soothing music helped her relax. It wasn't good for her to get upset like this, and she knew that, but he made it so impossible sometimes.

   Had it really been the best idea to embark on this trip with a near stranger? She only knew him from the high school yearbook, that's about it. Their paths had never really crossed all that much. All she knew was he'd had average to low grade levels whereas she'd been in advanced classes, and he was on the volleyball team for some reason. His mother had cried tears of joy on graduation day; as if she'd been worried he wouldn't make it. Clearly, that meant he was a loser. A slacker.

   Right?

   Shrugging off her own thoughts, Skipper ventured a hand out to reposition one of the vents so it aimed directly at her, withdrawing her hand as quickly as it had emerged. Wade noticed this and turned the air cooler in subtle increments, hoping she wouldn't think he was trying to suck up. If she was too warm, the air should be cooler. It was that simple.

   Wade finished up his breakfast and fed Charles before repositioning his chair. "Next stop, laundromat. You still don't want your food?"

   Skipper shook her head. "I'm not hungry." Now barely more than a whisper, her voice had lost its edge. But she still wouldn't look at him.

   "Not even the fries?"

   "I'll just puke if I eat. You can have em, it's fine," she waved him off with a slight huff.

   Deciding it'd be wise not to bother her anymore, he concentrated instead on finding a laundromat. When he got there, he didn't even bother asking her to get out. Just left the car running and hauled the bag of laundry out of the trunk. He hoped that maybe his absence would make her feel better so she could eat.