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7. Virginia

My dear Lola,

I respect my parent’s decision to send me to an all girl safe house for meth addicts and prostitutes. I just didn’t respect it enough to stick around and see how it all turned out. I got my diploma, and I left the night after graduation. I’ve managed to find my way to Virginia. I stopped in Lexington about an hour ago and had lunch with the most intriguing Vietnam vet I have ever met. I’ve sent the picture he drew on a napkin for me. I knew you’d find something deep and artistic to do with it.

Lots of love,
Kat

I folded the letter down its center and stuffed it into the envelope. It wouldn’t reach her for a few days, which offered its own comfort. I’d been running for three weeks now, and I didn’t need anyone finding out my exact location before I had ample opportunity to distance myself from it.
The group of truckers eating at the diner pretended to not stare at me as I walked in and settled into a booth by the door. I waited for the older woman to come to my table, and she did eventually. Not before stopping to each person on the way to check their coffee and see how they were doing. Either she was a really great waitress, or did not want to wait on me. I sounded defensive to myself, and put an easy smile on for her as she walked up.
“Morning honey. Do you know what you want to eat?” She didn’t ask where my parents were, I noted.
“I’ll have the breakfast special please.” I tried to mimic her light voice, but it came out harsher than I expected. The waitress didn’t seem bothered.
“Okay, and what do ya want to drink?” She shifted her weight to her other hip.
“Um. Glass of milk. Please.” I added quickly. I felt an overwhelming urge to be polite to this person. Maybe it was the southern accent or the friendly was about her, but I didn’t want to disrespect her in the least bit.
She shuffled passed to make her rounds back to the kitchen. I turned my attention to the traffic passing the little road side diner. There wasn’t much of it, but what there was gave me something to pretend to look at as I waited for food.
I wondered if Lola would be happy to hear from me. I wondered if she was worried that I hadn’t responded to any of her emails in so long. I wanted to tell her my plans before I left, but I couldn’t risk Phil or Jane getting into my emails and learning where I was headed.
It was better that I left without a trail.
I knew they had questioned JT first, which was why I had told him so little. He knew I was escaping my parents’ unnecessary decision to send me away. He would try his best to see my side heard, but the difference in class between us would halt any validity he hoped to have. Jane would never listen to a middle class kid tell her that her daughter ran away because she was a bad parent.
I chuckled to myself as I rearranged the sugar packets. Jane would never hear any voice but her own, and I was content with that. As long as I didn’t have to stomach it every day.
My waitress returned with a plate full of steaming, greasy goodness. I made it a point to look for her nametag and remember her name.
“Thank you, Rhonda.”
“No problem, sugar. You need anythin’ else while I’m here?”
“No ma’am.”
“Alright. Just holler if you need to get my attention. I’ll come check on ya in a bit.” Rhonda smiled and walked up to the counter to chat up one of the older men. His hair was silver, sticking out sporadically near his ears. He seemed older than he appeared. His hands shook on occasion when he reached for his coffee, and he tended to slosh some over the side when he did.
I turned my attention to the breakfast platter in front of me and let my mind drift while I ate.
My watch blinked at me to let me know my rest stop was up, and it was time to get back on the road. I left Rhonda a generous tip and was back on the road in no time. With the truck stop in my rearview, I hardly felt worried about what I was doing.
If I didn’t stop again for at least three hours, I could make it to New York City before midnight. My thoughts were interrupted as I saw the bag of close in my back seat move. I froze, my hands gripping the steering wheel.
“So. What on earth are you doing in Virginia?” I stared at the eyes in my mirror. The familiar eyes were amused at my expression.
“Lola!” I quickly whipped of the road and jumped out onto the shoulder. “What are you doing here?” I nearly yelled. I don’t know if the adrenaline from my quickly fading panic suddenly fueled my reaction to her or what, but I leapt onto her and hugged her tight.
“It’s good to see you too.” I could hear the great smile she had plastered on her face now. I let go.
“What are you doing in my back seat?” I asked, more calm.
“I talked to JT. He told me you were on the run from some things. It’s not that hard to figure out the way you would have come if you were a plotting teenager who was escaping parental persecution.”
I laughed. “You’re running too?”
“Yes.” She shook her head to emphasize her intent. Suddenly, the journey to New York didn’t need to happen. Suddenly I realized what this meant. We could be on the most incredible adventure, and we could do it together.
“So. Since we’re not going to New York,” I asked, “Where are we planning to go?”
Lola theatrically shifted her weight to one side and crossed her arms. She stood stroking her chin like a plotting criminal in a really old movie. I laughed.
“Have you ever been to Europe?”
“Have I ever been to Europe?” I laughed. “No I’ve never been this far from home.” I continued laughing, and Lola shifted back to her normal stance. She crossed her arms and waited for my answer.
I stopped and realized she was serious.
“Europe?” I clarified, watching her.
“Europe. We can go to the airport and catch an international flight. I have a ton of money saved in my back account from Tanya and Diego.” She hissed Diego’s name through her teeth. I blinked.
“Europe it is.”
We climbed back in my car and took out the map. The one quirk we both shared was our love of taking a road trip by paper map.
We plotted our course after a few moments. Lola informed me of which turns to take when we were close, but I didn’t need to glance at the map every time. She was a very good navigator, and we joked that she should go into being the voice on a GPS device.
“Did you have bags?” I asked her.
“Bags? Bags of what?”
“Bags of clothes. You didn’t bring any?”
“Uh. No?”
“What do you plan on wearing after today?”
“Oh. That.” She looked falsely composed as she stared out the windshield. “Left on Highway 4, we should be there in two more hours.”
“Lola,” I said, keeping my voice light and calm. “Why didn’t you bring anything to change into? I know you have 3 Gucci bags you can’t live without being in rotation at least twice in a weekly allowance.”
She looked down at her lap, her eyes hidden by her sunglasses. “I didn’t want anything in that house. Everything in it is evil and disgusting and tainted.”
I didn’t respond at all for a moment. I wanted to ask why? What happened to make her this upset that she’d leave behind things she loved more than anything?
“You don’t have to tell me, you know. I won’t pry into it.”
“I know you won’t.” She laid her head back on the head rest and looked at me. “That’s why we get along so well.”
Little else was said before we reached the regional airport. I parked my car in a long term parking garage not far from the airport. I gathered everything I knew I wanted to keep into one bag, leaving to rest with no expectation for it to be there if we ever came back to this place.
“You brought your passport, right?” Lola suddenly asked me, looking worried.
“Oh, please. You think a trust fund brat like me isn’t going to take my real passport as well as a fake one.” I waved the two books up to prove their existence. Lola rolled with laughter.
I locked the doors and swung my one bag over my shoulder.
It was a short walk to the airport, and I was surprised to not see it packed with wall-to-wall bodies. Lola told me it was because we were flying in the middle of the day on a Tuesday. We eyed the departure lists for our flight and chose flight number 146 to JFK in New York. Then we would connect with a red eye to Europe.
Bag check was simple, but the guy in security proved to be a complete jerk.
“Name?” He asked, looking directly at my passport.
“Katharina Devereux.”
“That’s a mouthful.” He eyed my bag.
“Yes.” I replied.
“Headed to New York.” He read over my ticket slowly.
“Yes.” I wanted to stick my tongue out and ask him if he was special ed.
“Okay. Empty your pockets, step through the machine.”
I did as told without hesitation. He picked through my lint covered contents as if he were on sewage duty. I looked helplessly at Lola standing patiently outside the metal detector area. She was leaning on her left hip with a sarcastic grin on her face.
I tried to hide my chagrin as the man examined the two tampons I had stuffed into my pocket. I heard Lola chuckle and sent a sneer in her direction.
“Proceed.” The man waved me on, and I practically ran with my bag to Lola’s side.
“Creeper.” Lola snorted as we went to look for our gate. I rolled my eyes and stepped a little faster then I was used to in order to keep Lola’s stride.
“Here we go. Gate 9.” Lola stopped in front of the queue. It wound obnoxiously—and without a soul in it—to to wiry man in a navy blue suit. He didn’t look up at we approached.
“Tickets.” He ordered more than asked. I handed mine over first. He read it, and handed it back to me after taking a stub back. Lola soon followed suit. We walked through the tunnel to the airplane with only the sound of our footsteps in our ears.
I felt excitement and nerves pool together in the pit of my stomach. I felt Lola emitting an electric energy next to me as we entered the plane and found our seats. There were three other people in the small airplane, and we took our seats in the back, thankful to not be the ones stuck in the small middle aisle.
I settled my bag in the overhead, pulling out my book and Lola’s IPOD before locking it away for the flight. We’d flipped a coin, and Lola won the window seat to JFK. I didn’t mind much, because that meant I had the window seat on the red eye. It would be uneventful since we were flying of the Atlantic Ocean, but it was the longer flight of the two.
I settled down with my book and buried my head in the story of Heathcliff and Catherine. I felt Lola shift down in her seat as the in flight crew explained our safety restraints and showed us our exits.
“To freedom.” Lola toasted with her water bottle. I saluted her and drank a quick swallow from my water. I wished I could skip all the formality and just get to Europe.