Alyssa slumped in the passenger seat in the RV and watched fat flakes of snow land silently on the blue Camry next to her. It was Marty's turn to drive, so he had insisted on stopping at the KwikMart — even though they didn't need gas — to stock up on Hershey bars, pork rinds, and Mountain Dew. Alyssa wanted to press her forehead against the cold window but she didn't, because Marty would surely bitch at her if she steamed up the glass.
The snowflakes were still dissolving on the hood of the RV when Marty appeared with two plastic bags and a gigantic styrofoam cup with a plastic lid.
"Where's my cup?" Alyssa asked as he heaved himself into the driver's seat.
"What do you need coffee for? I'm the one driving," Marty replied.
"Whatever," Alyssa sighed. She took the bags from him and nestled them on the floor by her feet, assuring Marty she could reach the bags and hand him whatever he needed while he was driving.
Marty ate and drove for fifty miles, and then declared it was too treacherous to continue. Alyssa understood and agreed with him. This was their first long trip in the RV, even though they bought it three summers ago. It wasn't like they were in a big hurry to get anywhere. She took out her phone and found an RV park online and made a reservation, then gave Marty directions. An hour later they were parked and hooked up to water and electricity. Alyssa heated up two cans of vegetable soup.
"This is probably going to push us back a day, maybe more," Marty said, crushing crackers into his soup. He brushed his hands over the bowl.
"It doesn't matter," Alyssa told him.
"I have a lot of things to do at home, so it matters to me," Marty retorted.
Alyssa thought better of asking him what exactly he needed to do at home. They were both retired now, the last of their Boston Terriers had been put to sleep the previous spring, and now Allie was living across the country with her latest boyfriend in Loma Linda. Alyssa imagined the slow, quiet unspooling of her road trip to the graveyard, dotted with RV parks, KwikMarts, and liquor stores.
"I saw a fire pit outside," Marty said, scooping up the last of his soup-and-cracker mush. "Want to sit outside for a little while? Watch the snow?"
"Sounds great, baby," Alyssa said. "Make a big fire, it's so cold."
She took their bowls and spoons to the sink while Marty built a fire. It wasn't all bad, being out here. She'd been with Marty for decades. He was as familiar to her as her reflection in the mirror. Alyssa washed the dishes and dried them, and then reached into the cabinet under the sink and drew out her liter bottle of Captain Morgan's 100-proof. She filled a coffee mug with the amber liquid and stepped outside.
Marty had a nice fire going in the pit. Not too hot yet, but nice colors and dancing crackling flames. Alyssa pulled her chair close enough to the fire pit to feel the heat on her legs. She took a long, slow sip of her drink, felt the burn in her mouth, then all the way down to a fiery bloom in her gut. When the mug was half empty, she turned soft unfocused eyes on Marty and felt a languid love.
"I'm going to bed," Marty said, rising from his chair with a grunt. He gestured towards the mug resting upright in Alyssa's lap. "Don't fall asleep out here," he warned her. "When the fire goes out, you'll freeze to death."
Alyssa shook her head and waved her mug at him. "I'm a toasty tootsie," she assured him, proud of herself for getting the words out.
"Whatever," Marty sighed, and went inside, the door banging shut behind him.
Alyssa smiled at the absurdity of feeling cold ever again. She drained the mug; it slipped from her hand and rolled onto its side.
