The Guilt Trip [slow updates]

[5] Salsa

"I want to buy an authentic sombrero when we get there," Wade said enthusiastically as he lay stomach-down on the roof of the SUV, poring over a tattered roadmap in the starlight. Skipper sat crisscross beside him, bundled in a large hoodie for warmth. The hoodie had initially been white, but it had since been covered in colorful permanent marker messages from all her relatives overseas.

   She was unusually quiet, not really paying attention to what Wade was saying. Instead, she was staring up at the stars.

   "Maybe I should grow a mustache, too," Wade mused, stroking his faint stubble and glancing at Skipper quizzically. He did a double take when he noticed she didn't seem all there. "Whatcha looking at?"

   "Hm?" Shaking her head, she turned her gaze from the stars to him.

   "Uh... I was saying I want to get an authentic sombrero and grow a mustache when we get to Mexico." Reaching for his water bottle, he fumbled and it fell off the roof with a splat. Peering over the edge, Wade scowled sadly. All that remained was a dark spot and broken plastic.

   "You'd look terrible with a mustache," Skipper snorted, leaning over the map and tracing her finger along the lines that testified to previous travels. Many of these lines had been marked by her late mother, Xiu.

   Twenty-three-year-old Xiu had emigrated from Korea to the United States due to both political and personal issues. Xiu loved to travel and spent much of her time exploring the country of her new citizenship, even after Skipper was born. As Skipper got older, Xiu eventually decided to settle down in Sarasota, Florida. They still went traveling, but there was always a home to return to rather than a home they brought with wherever they went. Xiu believed that life was not meant to be lived in one place, but she was willing to sacrifice some of that for the sake of her daughter's social and academic success. The older Skipper got, the more she appreciated everything her mother stood for.

   This map was tainted with their travel notes, coffee stains, and beautiful memories. Yet instead of bringing pain, it only made Skipper feel at peace.

   "You're really quiet," Wade pointed out.

   "Sorry. I was just thinking about my mom. This was her map."

   Wade nodded, he'd heard the story back in Florida when they'd first made plans for this trip. "We're gonna add more lines to this map. Maybe make it full circle."

   "I don't know about a full circle," Skipper sighed, tipping her head skyward again. Wade propped his chin up on his hand, watching her stare at the stars. Her glow-in-the-dark purple hair emitted a halo-like aura around her face.

   Was it true that she only had one year to scratch this trip off her bucket list? She seemed perfectly fine...

   "We can make plans in the morning if you'd rather," he offered slowly as he began to gently fold the map and hand it to her. Shaking her head, she gestured for him to leave it out.

   "It's fine." She brought her gaze back to earth and took down the pen she'd been using to keep her hair up. "Let's see, we've covered Arizona. I'm not sure why or how she never made it here, but oh well. Next stop is Mexico..." Clicking the pen, she drew a neon pink line from their current state to the border and wrote some abbreviated annotations that corresponded with the entries she'd made in the travel journal which was currently sitting on the dashboard. The journal was one of many volumes, packed with stories and polaroids from past travels. She was carrying on her mother's legacy as long as she could.

   "Yes, we're going to Mexico and I'm going to get a sombrero and a poncho and dance the salsa while eating salsa at a grande fandango."

   "At that point I think I'll just hijack your SUV and leave you behind," she smirked. "And maybe, just maybe, I'll take Charles with me."

   Wade gasped. "You wouldn't dare! King Charles is my good boy!"

   "Not if you grow a mustache and dance with salsa, weirdo. He deserves someone more responsible to take care of him."

   "Oh, so you're the responsible one, are you? But you can't dri- uh, I mean..."

   "If you think being able to drive makes you responsible, you're delusional," Skipper rolled her eyes and stood up, stretching her arms skyward. She may be able to traverse the earth, but she'd never get to explore outer space.

   And she didn't have a daughter to pass that legacy onto. It had to end here, with her. Whenever that may be.

   "I think you should sleep, because you're not arguing enough and I don't like it," Wade raised an eyebrow, folding the map and handing it to her. "We'll finish this in the morning." And with that, he hopped down from the roof and picked up the pieces of his broken water bottle. These went into a trash bag in the trunk; he grabbed a couple pillows and sleeping bags before checking up on Charles. The anteater was sleeping soundly in the backseat.

   Skipper descended the roof and got into her seat, angling it back as far as it would go and accepting her pillow and sleeping bag from Wade. He claimed he'd be fine sleeping on the roof, and she didn't fight him on it. She figured he was right, and she just needed to get some rest. Their time in Arizona had been very tiring due to the heat, but they'd had a grand time. The polaroids existed to prove it.

   Reaching into her backpack, Skipper pulled out the medicine she took every night and knocked it back. Her heavy lids slowly fell closed as she stared up through the skylight at the constellations high above.