A Road Trip for Christmas

So, needless to say, Rachel was none too happy when she woke up. I'm sure she had a touch of the evil drummer man in her head, but add to that the fact that the first thing she saw when her eyes opened was a sign for the San Antonio city limits, and she was fit to be tied.


“What in the hell happened Jeaux? What are we doing? Are we seriously in fucking San Antonio?” she squealed, hurtin' her own head enough that her hands flew to her ears, probably in an attempt to hold the remnants of her brain in place.


“You know I'm not supposed to drive,” I answered simply.


“Not supposed to drive huh? I thought you got crazy road rage or something! Jeaux we're more than a hundred miles from home! It's Christmas tomorrow! What in the hell are you thinking?”


This I had an answer for. Jerkin' the car to the side of the road, I threw it into park and turned to look her in the face.


“I was thinkin' that I'm tired of sittin' around that damn town wishin' everyday I was with Kevin and tryin' my hardest to have a regular group of friends, because Lord knows I can't have a regular job, or a regular boyfriend, or a regular life of any kind. But I can't even have a regular group of friends that does regular things. No I still end up ridin' with strangers, acceptin' kisses I don't want, and behind the wheel of a car I shouldn't have to worry about bein' able to drive!


I was thinkin' I don't wish to sit through another family meal while my mother does her damnedest to make sure I don't offend anybody, and never fails at every opportunity to further explain or defend my lack of said career, boyfriend, life...


I was thinkin' I wanted to get the hell out of town. Get away from Kevin. Go somewhere I don't have to worry about my every step and my every word. Fly right through town on a whim, without lookin' back, without remorse, without guilt, without that forever impendin' sense of doom I have around people I have to see day in and out.


I was thinkin'...road trip.”


Rachel's facial expressions changed from surprise, to pity, to empathy, and right back around to anger as I concluded my rant.


“A road trip?” she sneered. “Are you fucking kidding me Jeaux? It's Christmas tomorrow! What am I supposed to tell my family? What are you going to tell yours? Your mom is going to kill us! My mom is going to kill us!”


“Oh come on! You know as well as I do, you don't really care if you miss tomorrow. Don't you ever get tired of the constant string of questions tainted in underlyin' “you're not good enough” connotations? Those, “why can't you be more like cousin so-and-so” comments or looks? You're tellin' me you're going to miss all that?”


I'm sure she didn't appreciate my mockin' tone, because she didn't soften right on up or anything. But I knew my words rang true. I'd heard her complain enough about her family, and the whispers of judgment she never failed to hear behind her back. She didn't even have a "nifty" disorder to get to use as her scapegoat.


“So where are we going then Jeaux?” she asked, leanin' back in her seat with a sigh.


“Guess we'll have to wait and see.” I didn't know anymore than she did.


Within minutes our bellies both sounded as though they were the introductory drum-roll to the sunrise. With, of course, an added melody of gongs and trumpets for added effect.


“Are you at least gonna feed me on this little excursion of yours? Have you even considered that we haven't got not one change of clothes Jeaux? How long are we going to be gone?”


“Only one question at a time please. And to answer the first, that is an affirmative senorita. And I'm thinkin' Mexican.”


Makin' a sudden mad dash across two lanes of traffic, I careened onto the access road, and pulled into the parkin' lot of a Jalisco's – who's business did not seem to be sufferin' from the early mornin' hour.


Rachel's hands were firmly clenched into the sides of her seat, and her foot had a mean hold on the floor board.


“Pushin' your brake over there?” I asked laughin'.


“Oh my God Jeaux. Okay-I'll go with you on this little soul-searchin' road-trip of yours, but I'm driving from now on!”


I just laughed and nodded my head. That would of course be for the best.


The restaurant was already alive inside with the smell of coffee, the hum of light conversation, and the sound of the traditional rhythms of Latin music on the speakers over-head.


Everything was painted in bright colors, and there were even pinatas hangin' from the ceiling. Quite festive I assure you.


Once we were seated, our drinks before us and our order had been placed, I still didn't have a straw. I gotta have me a straw! I'd already gulped my first cup of coffee and knew it wasn't helpin' the dehydration that was sure to set-in given the amount of alcohol I'd recently consumed.


I couldn't help but notice the glass of water that had obviously gone untouched at the table across from us. Beads of undisturbed condensation covered the glass from top to bottom. And it, miraculously, had a straw stickin' up from its brim.


I pushed away from the table, and Rachel started to say “stop” – thinkin' I was goin' to complain to the waiter, for she is a firm believer in not fuckin' with the people that fix her food. But to her benefit, but disbelief, I only leaned across to the opposin' table and stole the straw with a quick but certainly polite “you're not usin' this are you?”


Yeah – it was gonna be that kind of day. Accustomed to the looks by now, I just stuck the straw in my cup and sucked my water totally dry.


“Ah, that's so fresh,” I gasped wantin' more.


“Please tell me the next time you need something Jeaux. Wouldn't want you getting herpes of the mouth because you had the steal the neighbor's salsa.”


“She didn't touch it!”


“Oh my God, whatever! That's so gross.”


I couldn't help but take the opportunity to further disgust her by lickin' the sides of the straw, in a most definitely lewd manner, and then enthusiastically suckin' the last couple of drops as though the goodness of it all and made me cross-eyed for a moment.


“You're disgusting, you know that right?”


Still, she couldn't help but laugh along with me.


“So what are we going to do today? For real? Keep driving? Do the tourist thing?”


“I've never been here before. So I say we do the tourist thing. See the Alamo maybe?” I suggested with a grin. “I bet there's bound to be some Christmas stuff goin' on downtown. This is a big city. I'm sure we'll find something to do.”