American Vacanza

pointless couches in bathrooms • siena

A music-induced trance had blinded me to my surroundings for so long that when I opened my eyes, nothing looked the same. The sky had gone pitch-dark, with loud cracks and rumbles ringing through.

"Okay," Madison said, shaking her pale pink locks as she applied her thousandth coat of lip gloss. She really should ration that stuff, considering we were only about a third of the way to New York. "Why don't we stop for dinner before it starts storming?"

"I could go for a meal," grunted Ethan, the dilapidated car jerking as we rolled down the highway. "Let's go to this Norman's Steakhouse. Seems pretty fancy to me."

"We don't have the time for - never mind," I said, slipping my headphones back on. I really didn't feel like fighting Ethan at this point. You'd get further in an argument with a brick wall than with him.

As my opinion was of no value to anyone in the car, Norman's was where we ended up heading. "Hey, pull over here so we can change," Madison instructed Ethan as we passed a rather dumpy looking rest stop. "We can't show up to a steakhouse in sweats."

Ethan pursed his lips, seemingly regretting his choice of restaurant. But still, the car rolled into the little rest stop, where I pulled out my least favorite dress and a pair of shoes to match. My best dress would be saved for that first fancy dinner in Capri; for a tiny steakhouse in the middle of Nebraska, my least fave would suffice.

I quickly changed into the ditsy floral sundress, which hit just above my knees. When I'd bought it, I thought it would make me look like the free-spirited boho queen I was in another life. But here - and maybe it was just the lighting - the ruffles looked frumpy, the length passé, and the bright colors simply tacky.

And then I stepped back into open air and spotted San Francisco's Power Couple looking - as much as I hated to say it - stunning.

Of course, Madison still dazzled in a little black romper - and wow- Ethan could rock a suit. He was still a dumbass, a stoner -- and not the genius kind, the deadbeat kind -- and was downright sick when he was drunk. But damn. He could rock a suit.

But if only they were as appealing to the nose as to the eye. I hadn't taken a shower since two nights before  at the Doubleside. The two days between had been filled with sweat, fast food grease, dirt, more sweat, crumbs, more dirt... just, all the stains and smells that came with sitting in an old car's back seat for two days.

As Madison started the car back up, my fingers slipped into my suitcase to slyly grab a stick of deodorant. If I couldn't be the best-looking, at least I'd be the decentest smelling.

My mind flicked to putting my headphones back on and falling asleep again to my music, but it was no use. The stripmall where I assumed Norman's was located was already flying by outside my window.

"Ah. Norman's Steakhouse, the fanciest restaurant in all of... Yourney, Nebraska," Madison sighed, her sharp heels clicking on the pavement as she stepped out of the car, handing the valet her keys.

Ethan's face contorted into a wondrous expression as we walked through the revolving door. "Is it really?"

God, revolving doors were such a glorious invention. For three whole seconds I was in a bubble all to myself, not having to hear Ethan's dumb questions.

Inside, a lanky, freckled boy named Wyatt led us to our table. "Welcome to Norman's. Your server should be with you shortly. Enjoy your evening."

"Thank you." I found my way to a white leather seat and picked up the black napkin, placing it on my lap and crossing my ankles like I was taught. It was just like a fancy dinner back home, but at the same time, a complete 180 from any dinner I'd ever been to. In town, everyone knew who my stepdad was, and everyone knew who Madison and I were by default. But almost anywhere else - and certainly in Yourney, Nebraska - we were completely anonymous.