Lazy Lizzie

Fourteen

[North Americans and geography buffs, I need your help. I have never visited the US and school geography under communism means I barely know Romanian geography. I also hate reading about a place, cause it never presents the people properly. So, I need help where you feel I'm not being realistic about the road trip. Since it's never about town names, it's not very relevant to me, but let me know if anything takes you out of the story. Again, my story is not about geography, it's about people.]

Dale didn't come back so when the tires were replaced and the Lair was mobile again Lizzie looked around at the junk-filled yard. 

"Ready? I'll bring the car," Future Husband was already going for it.

In a long black dress, its top two embroidered triangles continuing in straps that went over her shoulders, she watched the old car advancing like it could barely carry itself. She didn't even own a jacket, and she was leaving for Canada. 

The car pulled up, and Leo started the official proceedings of connecting everything they owned into one long vehicle of shame. 

Knowing she would never be back in Warsa Park brought her no regret, no joy. But she had her old multicolored earrings on. Long, with feathers, to make them stand out.

It looked like even French Key was unsure if their caravan would hold. She doubted it would move an inch.

But when he turned to her, Leo was confident, "Let's go."

She got in the passenger seat, faking conviction, not wanting to make him feel bad, by doubting him, so she pretended to be more prepared than she actually was. 

"What's our first stop?" she asked, as he got in.

"Anywhere there's food." 

He started the car, and it winced a few times. She couldn't hide her reaction, tensing in her seat.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm a mechanic. One way or the other, we'll get there. It'll just take us longer."

With that, the car started to move, and the Lair opposed for a split second before silently following it, as if sliding. It and its appliances were built to be as light as possible, another phase of Dale's obsession for survivalist gear.

It was weird seeing people again, in cars, along the road. Almost all cars were faster, and many of their passengers, curious. The Lair was an apparition: a backwood toilet on wheels, half spray-painted pink, half left to test the rusty antifungal solution Dale had devised. Mosquito screens - flying alongside its windows. The umbrella drawn on it looking like it was unable to hold off the sun, let alone a drop of rain. On top of everything, Lizzie's sprayed-on writings. I can't watch this anymore.

The old car was more comfortable than she'd imagined. It was because it had only two seats available, pulled all the way back, spacious for her small body. Leo was not so relaxed, he filled the entire available space, on the verge of needing more. The backseat was filled with clothes and small furniture items, like the nightstand that had been taken as it was, from his house. Its semi-opened drawers filled with more junk. 

He pressed a button and music started, the familiar hip hop beat about someone 'ridin' dirty'. A classic, at her last place of employment. Leo turned the volume down to silent, and explained, "Now, fair warning: there's only one playlist. One CD."

"CD?! Was the gramophone too heavy?" she joked.

"One CD, all hip hop. And it's all about guys boasting about their awesome rides. So," he put the music back on, "Whenever the song changes, I imagine myself in that car."

Lizzie lacked the necessary knowledge about auto brands to participate in that fantasy. She smiled to compensate. Other cars were easily passing them over, children not hiding their curiosity, staring at her, trying to get her attention.

He pulled over, in the parking lot of the first fast food joint. She'd dated in high school, some of those dates even taking place there, at The Yummy Corner, but never with the expectation of anything more than grabby hands. She had never wanted to go out, especially with a man, as to her it was connected to the purpose of ending up in bed together. It was what the TV had taught her.

That could be easily obtained. At home. In pajamas, eating from a takeout box. There was no need for the charade.

The place swarmed, it was late lunch, uniformed waitresses ignored customers on their way to other customers, who'd been ignored before.

The booth was by the window, giving her a view of even more people outside. Everything was the same as she remembered it. The town, the people, the place. She did not miss much evolution by isolating herself.

She got fries and a hamburger, an excuse to have the fries without feeling like she was inconveniencing the waitress by only buying a side dish. It was alright, because Huge Appetite ate everything on that table, not pausing for breath.

They looked like a couple made silent by years of living together. Like her parents. She was technically their only child, together and separately, but Terri and Eliza Taylor had two secret children they used to leave with her: themselves, while drunk. Now living in a dilapidated house outside town, they had no one to look out for them. Lizzie decided against saying goodbye. When she said it, years back, they were not paying attention.

She put some crumpled bills on the table, with a large tip, ready to get back to the car. But Designated Driver was not really in a hurry: everything was new to him. She could see him studying the people, and could not figure out what was there to know.

And then she had an idea that never came to her, on its own. 

"Where are you from?" she asked because she wanted to know more about him. 

"Hazel Park, it's a city near Detroit. Born and raised. My mom was from Detroit, dad Canadian. Left when I was two. I don't remember him, but my sister Sofia does." 

The information was laid out evenly, he had no problem sharing it. It was harmless, still, she expected hesitation. Because he also noticed her bout of curiosity, he smiled in his way, making his head square. 

"Why do you ask?"

"You're not from around here. You're too curious. There's nothing --"

"Lizzie..." a familiar screechy voice interrupted them, and her stomach curled into a ball. "Lizzie Taylor?!"