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By Root 1302 0

to start early and drive straight through what we estimated would be about a thirteen-hour drive, depending on the traffic on I-95. My new old car was already packed. Mark had strategically loaded and reloaded my gear in such a way that I wouldn’t have any blind spots. He had checked my window-washing fluid, the oil, the tires, and everything he could think of, including updating the emergency roadside kit with new flares. And he gave me a AAA card for national roadside assistance. This was why I loved Mark. He cared how you fared in the world and when I watched him repacking the car for the fourth time I thought again what a wonderful father he would have made. But then I reminded myself that if you didn’t have children you might have thought they were a liability, because to be honest even I had friends whose children gave me nightmares. But that was rare. They could also be your greatest asset.

I dressed quickly, rolled up my pajamas, and dropped my cosmetics in an old canvas tote bag Patti gave me, a souvenir from a contribution she made to PBS. Even though I knew I was facing the endurance contest of the year to make that kind of drive alone, I was psyched. Sort of.

The truth was that part of me longed to get as far away from anything that had to do with Addison. I was sick in my heart over it all and I did not think I could bear another piece of bad news. The other part of me was looking forward to getting away from the terrible winter weather. My skin was so dry that it would drink whatever moisturizer I fed it only to feel taut again in just a few hours and then it flaked. Oh brother. My legs flaked like that character Pig-Pen in Charlie Brown, throwing off a cloud of dust in the air when I pulled off a pair of tights. Gross. My hair had static electricity no matter what I did to it. I was tired of numb fingers and toes, wheezing allergy attacks from wood smoke and wet leaf mold, but my number one, all-time feature of winter that I would not miss was the stinging shock to my hand when I walked across carpet and touched a metal doorknob. I hated it when the electricity ran from my fingers up to my elbow. It made me cuss every single time.

So the idea of leaving those aspects of Yankee living in the dust for a while and swapping stories with Aunt Daisy and Ella over a pile of roasted oysters or a bowl of stew was appealing, especially to a wounded soul like me.

I’d take long walks on the beach, warmed by the gentle winter sun and command my body and soul to soak up every salty benefit it had to offer. I’d think my future through and try to plan the next chapter with a lot more care. My life was my own now and what it would be would be what I would make it. But the other part of me knew that that very idea of finding happiness and contentment was wildly optimistic considering I had almost no resources to draw on except the wisdom of an aging old-maid aunt, her companion, and what I could muster on my own. Sure, I’d gladly help Aunt Daisy until her foot healed. I’d help her until she closed her eyes on her last day on earth if she wanted me to, but staying there and managing real estate for a living was about the last thing I wanted to do with myself. So, with mounting trepidation and enough nervous energy to light the city of Chicago, I was resolved to at least take this sabbatical and see what I would find on Folly Beach.

I smelled bacon frying—a powerful aphrodisiac if ever there was one—and hurried down to Patti and Mark’s kitchen to have some breakfast.

“You think I was gonna let you leave without filling you up with pancakes and bacon?” Patti said.

“I’m really glad you didn’t.” I gave her a smooch on the cheek and poured myself a cup of coffee.

“I MapQuested your trip,” Mark said, “and if you want, I’m happy to give you my portable GPS. It’s no big deal.”

“You are a dear, Mark, but I’m just heading straight down I-95 until I reach Aunt Daisy’s and I know the way like the back of my hand.”

“Right. I know. And you could always ask for directions if you need to,” Mark said.

“No! Don’t stop except for gas