I head down to the lobby expecting to find her sitting at a table with a cup of coffee or chatting it up with some single guy she latched onto, but I find nothing.
Growing concerned now, I send her another text asking again where she is and this time I get a response. She tells me she’s about five minutes away. And that’s all I get.
Alice finally makes an appearance, slightly flustered and out of breath, when she flies through the door of the hotel and into the lobby.
I’m sitting at a table in the corner reading a newspaper as she plunks herself down across from me and lets out a long exhale.
“Busy morning?” I ask, giving her a coy smile, but her face is impassive and I can’t help but question her further. “What’s going on?” All playfulness gone from my tone.
I see Alice swallow hard and run a hand through her hair. She wets her lips as if she’s trying to stall for time, as if she’s trying to find the right words.
“It’s not him,” she stutters out and I have to make sure I’ve heard her correctly.
“What?”
“It’s not him,” she repeats, shaking her head, her eyes focused on mine.
“How can you possibly know that?” I ask, already knowing what she’s done.
How could she find him without me?
I feel my face begin to heat up, growing red with each passing second. The anger is boiling inside me and this is not exactly the place I want to have it out with my sister over her lack of boundaries.
I push back from the table, determined to put some distance between us before I scream at her in public. Leaving the hotel with Alice trailing closely behind and calling my name, I head for the beach.
It’s deserted along with this shitty little town. I can’t wait to get to San Diego so I can end all of this and fly back home. I’m so fucking sick of hotel beds and Alice’s endless company and fast food and all the other shit that comes with my never-ending need to find Elliot.
“Nora!” Alice screams and just the sound of her voice makes me want to turn around and punch her in the face.
“What?” I shout back, stopping so I can turn and face her. She falters slightly as she comes to a stop in front of me. I don’t think she thought I would stop and now that she’s faced with confrontation she seems uneasy. She should be. She has to know what she did was wrong despite my protests that I was ending my search. This was never hers to take on. It has always been mine and mine alone.
“I’m sorry,” she says feebly. And when I don’t respond she adds, “I thought I was helping. Saving you the heartbreak of finding out it wasn’t him…again.”
“Thanks for that,” I hiss back. I can’t even begin to process what to say to her. I’m hurt and embarrassed and angry. More emotions than I thought were physically possible to feel at once are burning through my body like I swallowed hot coals. “Get your shit together. We’re leaving,” I say as I stalk back to the hotel.
“Nora, please,” Alice begs. “I was only trying to help. You said you didn’t want to do this anymore. I couldn’t let you end all of this without finding out if the last one on the list was him. It would eat at you. Not ever knowing…” Her voice grows quiet when she realizes I’m far too angry to hear what she’s saying. “I’m sorry,” she whispers and as angry as I am, something in her voice breaks me down just a little bit. She sounds just like our mother.
We have at least fourteen hours ahead of us before we reach San Diego. The rental car needs to be returned in three days, which was set this way to give me time to visit San Diego and enjoy the last of my trip. Every year, I leave a few days at the end to stay at a swanky hotel, go to the spa and sit on the beach just doing nothing. Almost my reward or my recovery from all of this.
It’s been two hours since we left Crescent City and I still haven’t spoken a word to Alice. She has pleaded with me, cried and is now angry with me. I want to understand her motivation behind what she did, but right now, with both of us still seething, I can’t see anything but the anger I feel toward her.
I’m not even sure whom I’m angrier at. Myself or Alice? I hate that I’ve let this control my life so immensely that I can’t relinquish the control and accept that Alice was trying to help. I told her I gave up and she did what she thought was right. Would I have been okay with never knowing if the Elliot living in Crescent City was the one I met in San Diego? Would I have been able to move on from all of this without that closure? There have been far too many moments in my life left incomplete. This would have been one more added to the list, one more thing for me to come back to, to dwell on and wonder about. Eventually it would have been too much.
The silence in the car is deafening when we hit the six-hour mark. The fact that both of us have gone this long without uttering a word must be a record of some kind.
Shit, I’m not sure I can go five years without talking to Alice. As much as she drives me crazy, we have a strange balance that keeps both of us moving forward. It keeps our lives from totally falling apart.
I’m at my breaking point when we hit San Luis Obispo. Ten fucking hours of silence. It would make any sane person crazy. We have another five hours to go before we roll into San Diego and I can’t take another second of the tension-filled silence.
Instead of opening with the reason why there is this stress between us, I ask, “Do you ever wonder why there’s a suitcase on the side of the road?” I glance out the window at the side of the road littered with someone’s belongings. A suitcase lying open as its contents blows around aimlessly, cluttering up the otherwise empty roadside.
“No,” Alice says flatly. A few seconds pass and she lets out a long sigh and adds, “Some disgruntled girlfriend tossed that shit out of the car.”
“You think?” I ask even though I know Alice is probably speaking from personal experience.
“Yep. I’ve done it. Watched an entire suitcase spill out on the side of the road. It’s pretty impactful.”
I laugh a little and Alice smiles at me. The tension slowly fades and the car begins to feel less like it’s going to burst.
“Oh, Alice. Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to be you.”
“See that?” Alice says smugly. “I’ve wondered what it’s like to be you.”
“Bullshit,” I answer back, giving her a small shove with my hand and she shifts slightly in her seat.
“No joke,” Alice scoffs and I can’t even imagine why she would give my boring ass life a second thought. “To just have my shit together is too difficult for me.”
“Oh yeah and I lead such an exciting life. I’m driving across the country right now looking for a guy who is probably fat, married, dead or some kind of crazy asshole. Sounds like the path you totally want to follow.” I roll my eyes and Alice chuckles and I add, “And I work in the most boring career known to man. Who writes fucking descriptions for a fondue pot that costs as much as some people’s car payments?”
“Then change it,” Alice says with more finality to her tone than I’ve heard in a long time. Alice is impulsive, but this time it doesn’t come across that way.
I process her words, not answering, just thinking. She’s right. I can change my life, make it better, end all this craziness, find a new job, start my life again.