She sighed, teenager-like. ‘That’s what I said.’
The highway rolled on, endless. A green sign popped up, telling us that the Spring Mine Road Exit was ahead. The exit sign loomed in the distance, seemingly suspended in air. The road beyond it was desolate and empty. ‘This is us.’ Stella’s voice broke.
‘Are you sure? This looks like it goes to nothing.’
‘I remember this road. This is us.’
I put on my turn signal and we slowly eased into the exit. None of the other cars was getting off. A bright yellow arrow sign told us we had to turn left or right. ‘Which way?’
‘Right,’ Stella said.
I turned right. There were cornfields on either side of us. Stella sat next to me, her posture perfect, her gloves pulled up over her elbows, her patent-leather purse sitting on her lap.
‘Do you still think about it much?’ I asked her.
‘Think about what?’
‘The…you know. What we were talking about.’
She blew air out of her cheeks, making a neighing noise. ‘Nah.’
‘Really?’
‘What’s the point?’
A few anemic trees slid past. Then a shack with a few trucks parked out front. A red barn. On its side was an advertisement for chewing tobacco; the words weathered from the years. There was a sign for a McDonald’s thirty miles ahead. The giant hamburger’s sesame seeds were as big as boulders. ‘Did you ever say anything to your sister about it?’ I asked.
Stella shrugged. ‘Not to her.’
‘Never?’
‘Nope.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, I don’t know.’
‘But she’s your sister,’ I protested.
‘And?’
‘You two didn’t talk much. You weren’t friends. It was because of that, wasn’t it?’
Stella looked at me sharply. ‘What do you want me to say, that it was? That if I would’ve patched it up, acted like it didn’t bother me, we could’ve become best friends? She was different. And she wanted different things than I did, and one of those things was a husband that provided, a pictureperfect marriage. I wanted love. And look where that got both of us. And there’s no law that says you have to get along with your siblings. It’s not like you get along with Steven.’
My ears felt tinny, shunting closed. A bird flew very close to the windshield, almost running into us. ‘How do you know I don’t get along with him?’
Stella turned and stared at me. It felt as if she’d unzipped me and was feeling around at my bottom, looking for loose change. I could tell there was something she wanted to say. ‘What?’ I demanded.
She lowered her eyes. ‘Nothing.’
‘What?’
Stella’s face was firm, almost young. ‘I don’t want to go to this man today.’
‘Did Samantha say something to you?’
‘No, she didn’t. I just don’t want to go.’
‘But what if he helps you? What if there’s a miracle?’
‘It’s not real.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I just…know. It’s not real. And you know it’s not real, too. You with your degree in science, you with your big, wasted brain. Don’t treat me like an idiot.’
‘But you don’t know until you try it! I really think this is reputable. I really think this could be something.’
Stella leaned her head against the window; the trees whizzed by. ‘I think it’s probably time for you to go back to New York.’
I lifted my foot off the pedal. ‘What?’
‘I don’t need to be saved, Summer. I don’t need to be taken care of…not like this. I’m fine-I’ll be fine. But what about you? What are you doing here?’
My mouth was wide open, a chunk taken out of my face. I blinked once, twice. I heard ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ in my head, deafeningly loud. Oh, say can you see…?
Stella looked out the windshield, then down at the map. She frowned. ‘You know, I don’t recognize any of this.’
I couldn’t respond, gripping the steering wheel until my hands were white. What so proudly we wave…
Stella turned around and looked behind us, then ahead again. ‘No…this isn’t right.’
I let out a groan and pulled into a parking lot to a hillbilly 7-Eleven of sorts; there were faded NASCAR and Mountain Dew posters in the window, a sign for propane and worms, a plastic newspaper dispenser near the door, its contents depleted.
‘I guess it was the next exit instead,’ Stella sighed.
I set my jaw and stared fixedly at the cracked sidewalk outside the market. ‘We’re on a time schedule. Our appointment is in an hour, and it’s still a half-hour down the road.’
Stella clutched the passenger door and, after a few seconds of fumbling, managed to push it open. She swung her bandy legs onto the pavement and hefted herself up, using the door as leverage. ‘Where are you going?’ I cried.
‘I’m going to ask for directions.’