Things are Complicated

Chapter 40: Troubles in Someone Else's Paradise

“Oh come on,” Leah tapped the back of Frank’s headrest.

“And I said hell no!” he replied by reaching under his seat and pushing his seat as far back as it would manage, then he angled the seat back and managed to flatten Leah.

Leah was trapped and I saw it coming, but did nothing. Jett and I snickered at the huffing, red-faced creature who flung her arms out desperately for something to yank.

“Keep it up,” Frank urged her. “Next, I’ll replace you with the suitcases in the trunk.”

“You guys, help me.” Leah turned her big blue eyes and pouting lip in our direction.

“Give it up Leah, we’re not staying at the Marriot.” I sat in Jett’s lap to get away from her clawing hand and sharp nails.

“But it has a spa!” She sighed. “And if we’re paying equal shares we should have a say on where we stay. Right?”

“Not a chance,” Frank glared at us from the front seat, despite the fact that we sat parked in the Marriot’s parking lot.

In truth, we pulled over to use the bathroom and eventually ate dinner at the restaurant attached to it. When Leah saw the sign for the spa and other amenities she began to beg to stay. Frank, however, was not keen on staying or even stopping in town for some reason.

“Well it is dark,” Jett sighed.

“And they have a few rooms,” D’Angelo looked down at his cellphone, scrolling through the listing prices.

I saw where this was going and I sighed, “Well I could use a good bed for once. That last one was terrible and it’s hard enough to sleep already without a lumpy bed.”

Guilt. The trick is to not outright give an accusation but hint at it with words that suggest ‘neglected’, ‘lonely’, ‘sad’, ‘in pain’ or in my case ‘possibly dying’.

Even with his years of experience, Frank didn’t catch on to what I was doing. I could see it in his eyes that he was cracking.

“Fine,” he sighed, releasing Leah from her ‘prison’. “But any and all spa treatments are yours to pay for yourself.”

“Yes sir.” She saluted him and jumped out of the back seat.

Jett, D and I looked at one another and grinned. We won. Although it was a first in many battles that had come to pass, a little victory was good for the soul.

A little under seven hours remained between us and ‘home’ but I was not looking forward to the destination. No matter how courageous or strong I thought I was four months ago, the idea of going through treatment seemed like an insurmountable peak. And as much as D’Angelo helped with the coping, nothing could get rid of the uncertainty and depression left behind from reading dad’s journal.

“Are you getting out or am I going to have to drag you?” Frank tapped on the window; he stood outside frowning at his phone and ignoring yet another of the several phone calls he’s been receiving all day.

“Coming,” I opened the door, slid off of Jett’s lap and gulped down the fresh Utah air.

Frank’s phone buzzed loudly yet again and he jammed the thing in his pocket, muttering something about showing someone how it feels.

“What’s up?” I look down at his phone. “Who keeps calling you?”

“None of your business. Get inside before you drop dead and I have to haul you to the hospital.” He growls, marching off across the parking lot.