Breathing Lessons (1989 Pulitzer Prize) - Anne Tyler [9]
"Hmm?" "I'm testing our odometer." Ira loosened the knot of his tie.
Two tenths of a mile. Three tenths. At four tenths, she felt they were falling behind. Maybe she was imagining things, but it seemed to her that the numeral lagged somewhat as it rolled upward. At five tenths, she was almost sure of it. "How long since you had this checked?" she asked Ira.
"Had what checked?" "The odometer." "Well, never," he said.
"Never! Not once? And you accuse me of poor auto maintenance!" "Look at that," Ira said. "Some ninety-year-old lady they've let out loose on the highway. Can't even see above her steering wheel." He veered around the Buick, which meant that he completely bypassed one of the mileage signs. "Darn," Maggie said. "You made me miss it." He didn't respond. He didn't even look sorry. She pinned her eyes far ahead, preparing for the seven tenths marker. When it appeared she glanced at the odometer and the numeral was just creeping up. It made her feel itchy and edgy. Oddly enough, though, the next numeral came more quickly. It might even have been too quick. Maggie said, "Oh, oh." "What's the matter?" "This is making me a nervous wreck," she said. She was watching for the road sign and monitoring the odometer dial, both at once. The six rolled up on the dial several seconds ahead of the sign, she could swear. She' tsked. Ira looked over at her. "Slow down," she told him.
"Huh?" "Slow down! I'm not sure we're going to make it. See, here the seven comes, rolling up, up ... and where's the sign? Where's the sign! Come on, sign! We're losing! We're too far ahead! We're-" The sign popped into view. "Ah," she said. The seven settled into place at exactly the same instant, so precisely that she almost heard it click.
"Whew!" she said. She sank back in her seat. "That was too close for comfort." "They do set all our gauges at the factory, you know," Ira said.
"Sure, years and years ago," she told them. "I'm exhausted." Ira said, "I wonder how long we should keep to Route One?" "I feel I've been wrung through a wringer," Maggie said.
She made little plucking motions at the front of her dress.
Now collections of parked trucks and RVs appeared in clearings at random intervals-no humans around, no visible explanation for anybody's stopping there. Maggie had noticed this on her earlier trips and never understood it. Were the drivers off fishing, or hunting, or what? Did country people have some kind of secret life?
"Another thing is their banks," she told Ira. "All these towns have banks that look like itty-bitty brick houses, have you noticed? With yards around them, and flower beds. Would you put your faith in such a bank?" "No reason not to." "I just wouldn't feel my money was secure." "Your vast wealth," Ira teased her.
"I mean it doesn't seem professional." "Now, according to the map," he said, "we could stay on Route One a good deal farther up than Oxford. Serena had us cutting off at Oxford, if I heard you right, but. . . Check it for me, will you?" Maggie took the map from the seat between them and opened it, one square at a time. She was hoping not to have to spread it out completely. Ira would get after her ^ for refolding it wrong. "Oxford," she said. "Is that in Maryland or Pennsylvania?" "It's in Pennsylvania, Maggie. Where Highway Ten leads off to the north." "Well, then! I distinctly remember she told us to take Highway Ten." "Yes, but if we ... Have you been listening to a word I say? If we stayed on Route One, see, we could make better time, and I think there's a cutoff further up that would bring us directly to Deer Lick." "Well, she must have had a reason, Ira, for telling us Highway Ten." "A reason? Serena? Serena Gill have a reason?" She shook out the map with a crackle. He always talked like