LIMINAL || 𝙅𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙖𝙡𝙚 [1]

𝟙 | 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕓𝕖𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤

If you had told me that I would be finishing up the last half of my senior year at a high school on the other side of the country, I would've laughed in your face. If you then explained that I would be living with my sister, the antithesis of myself, well then I'd plum fall on the floor. And if you said it was because my father had received a promotion that would cause he and my mother to move outside of the country...let's be real. I wouldn't have believed any of it.

But there I was, in the passenger seat of my sister's car, the backseat and trunk stuffed with all of my belongings. We'd been driving for two days already, staying in sketchy motels when neither of us could stay at a safe level of coherence. I wondered how much worse it would be to just lean the seat back and try to sleep that way. But there was too much stuff behind me, so it was sleezy stays until we reached the West coast. Cara hardly let me drive at all, even when her eyes involuntarily started to drift shut. She had the notion that my driving was terrible and I'd manage to get us both killed, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I drove just fine.

When I wasn't driving, which was the majority of the time, I tried to occupy myself with a book or my phone. But the cell reception was spotty at best and all of my books had been read at least three times over, if not more. There wasn't much to do other than stare out the window and admire the scenery. Well, if you could call it that. Miles upon miles of field or forest, each one looking identical to the last. The only indicator that we weren't driving in circles was the little towns that we passed through here and there for food, sleep, and potty breaks. But even they were starting to look the same. Thank God we hadn't taken the scenic route.

The sun was starting to set just to the left of our course, streaking various shades of red, orange, and pink across the sky. At least the sunsets were beautiful. I could tell that Cara would want to stop soon. She'd been driving all day, minus the hour or so around lunch that she had relinquished the wheel to eat a cheeseburger. She wouldn't have much juice left.

"Hungry?"

It was the first word she'd spoken in hours. Who knew how loud silence could be until you had to endure a day of it? My stomach gave a feeble growl at the thought of food.

"Gettin' there," I huffed, still eyeing the scarlet light bouncing off a few wispy clouds.

"We'll stop at the next town and get something there. Then turn in early so we can get a jump on the day tomorrow."

This trip was taking a lot longer than it needed to and Cara knew it as well as I did. She was smart, having graduated two years ahead of her peers. Why was she so hell bent and determined to not let me drive more than 60 miles on open road?

We were close to some type of town now. A few signs rushed to meet us as we shot down the highway. One of them advertised a diner on Main Street, promising cobbler and hamburger steak.

"Let's eat there," I motioned to the raggedy billboard as we passed it. I was getting a little tired of fast food. Cara nodded and turned off the highway onto a local road, making our way to downtown at a much slower pace. A couple of cars lined the sidewalk in front of the little shops around the heart of the town. The quaintness of it all reminded me of home. A barber shop here, a boutique there. And then the diner I'd seen the sign for, Rodge's. It looked to be the busiest place in town. Only a few spots remained open, farthest from the door.

Cara pulled in and brought the car to a stop. How wonderful it felt to stretch my legs, no, my whole body! I reached to the sky, eyes closed and arms spread wide. There was just the slightest bit of warmth from the sun now, almost undetectable due to the winter chill. Man, back at home it had barely dropped below 50.

Inside the diner, it was like the sixties had thrown up everywhere. Checkered floors, vinyl booths with stuffing poking out, and formica table tops to boot. Behind the bar were old fashioned sundae bowls and baby blue and pink tile. Kind of reminded me of the old Winn-Dixie back in Alabama. One booth remained open in the far corner. Cara and I slid- well, scooted- in on opposite sides and began looking over the menu. A nice plate of chicken fingers called my name.