halfway out the door and swung around to face Marlee again. “I almost forgot—Gary really liked your idea to use the rappers for the Reading Is Fundamental promo.”
“Great.” Of course, it would have been greater if Gary had managed to tell her this himself, but she’d learned to be grateful for small favors.
Gretchen was almost out the door again when Marlee stopped her. “Gary knows about my vacation, right? Remind him I’ll be away the next two weeks.”
“I’ll remind him. Knowing Gary, he won’t even notice you’re gone.” Gretchen waved over her shoulder, then was gone, her feet slapping on the tile floor in rhythm with her popping gum.
Marlee sank into her chair and stared at the P.I.O. sheets. So much for the artistic, interesting and important work she always bragged about whenever her friends asked why she continued to work for a peanuts-for-pay nonprofit when she could be plying her trade for real dough at one of the big ad firms around town.
Not that she hadn’t asked herself from time to time if she was really making the best use of her talents. Sure, working for programs like Reading Is Fundamental and the March of Dimes was rewarding and important, but was she selling herself short by not being more ambitious?
Ambition sounded like so much hard work. She’d always been one to go with the flow and see where life took her next. Only lately she felt as if the flow had stopped and she wasn’t going much of anywhere.
She shoved the P.I.O. busywork aside and opened a new file on her computer. Writing new blog entries always helped her to sort out her thoughts.
Road trip!
Don’t those words immediately make you think of fun and adventure? Whether it’s a Spring Break caravan to the Florida beaches or a summer safari across the country, hitting the road with friends for a few days away from the grind is a sure cure for a case of the dulls.
Yours truly is about to set off on a cross-country odyssey of my own. I’ll be traveling from D.C. to San Diego to attend by best gal pal Susan’s wedding.
Before you start alerting state police to be on the lookout for me, rest assured that I will not be driving myself on this trip. (See previous entry for the whole sad story of my recently departed driver’s license.) No, I have the privilege of a chauffeur for this vacation, the wedding best man. More on him later.
Right now I’m musing about the value of road trips in general and this one in particular. I’m thinking this will be the perfect time to take a closer look at where I’m headed—literally and figuratively.
Don’t worry, though, I don’t intend to get too serious. I’m not forgetting this is a vacation, too. And vacations are for fun. For cutting loose and doing things we might not do in the confines of our ordinary lives. How else to explain the penchant for Las Vegas conventioneers to sing karaoke or overly pale beachgoers to throw their backs out doing the limbo?
So expect a few surprises from yours truly in the coming weeks. Though I don’t know exactly how yet, I intend to find my own way to cut loose.
MARLEE was well into her regular Wednesday-night movie marathon when the phone rang. She was tempted to ignore it, since tonight’s theme was road-trip movies and she hated to break away from Priscilla, Queen of the Desert to talk to what was probably a phone salesperson anyway.
But guilt and the worry that it might be a friend in need drove her to hit the pause button and reach over and pluck the phone from its cradle. “Hello?”
“Is this Marlee Jones?”
“That depends on who’s calling. Who is this?”
“This is Craig Brinkman.”
“Oh, hi, Craig.” She smiled and tucked her feet up under her, settling in for a longer conversation. “Nice to talk to you. How are you doing?”
“I’m actually pretty busy right now. I just called to get directions to your place.”
“Sure. Or if you want to meet for a drink or something I can bring you a map.”
“I don’t really have time for that. Just give me your address.”
She frowned. Craig wasn’t any chattier on the phone than he was via e-mail. “Sure. I’m really easy to find.” She rattled off her address and the names of the cross streets.
“Great. I’ll pick you up at eight on Saturday morning.”
Almost too late, she realized he was about to hang up. “Wait, wait,” she called. “Don’t hang up yet.”
“What is it?” He came back on the line.
“Is there anything I should bring? Anything you need me to do?”
“No, I already have everything planned out. And I have reservations for hotels along the way.”
“You do?” Not that she wasn’t aware some people traveled this way; she just never saw the point.
“Yes. That way we don’t have to waste any time searching for a place to stay each night.”
“What if something happens and we don’t make it to the place where you have reservations?”
“What could happen?”
“I don’t know—bad weather, construction detours. Or we could get lost.” She didn’t mention that she always got lost at least once on a trip of any length.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I have our itinerary all mapped out and I’ve checked road conditions.”
“Oh. Well, I wasn’t really worried.” She shifted the phone to her other ear. “Are you sure you don’t have time for a quick drink? Or a cup of coffee.”
“Sorry, but I’m pretty busy here. I’d better go.”
Without waiting for her to say good-bye, he hung up. She replaced the phone in its cradle and stared at it, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Hadn’t Mr. Brinkman heard that first impressions counted? He certainly hadn’t made a very good one with her.
She sat back on the sofa and stared at the television. The Pause function had timed out and the movie had stopped altogether while she’d been on the phone. Just as well. She couldn’t focus on enjoying Guy Pierce in drag until she’d sorted out her reaction to Craig Brinkman.
What she knew about Craig:
A) He didn’t waste time on small talk, to the point of brusqueness. Her father would have said he was a “no-nonsense kind of fellow,” something Dad approved of. So maybe that wasn’t all bad, though it tended to annoy Marlee.
B) He was a planner. Okay, some people were like that. They liked to pretend they were in control. Not her cup of tea but she could live with it.
Besides, she’d taken enough detours in her life to know that you could never, ever, count on things turning out the way you planned them. She’d give Craig’s itinerary a day, maybe a day and a half, before something came up to throw it off completely.
C)
