Page 32 of Finding Molly Parsons

“I call dibs on the music,” Mateo sang.

“That will be shared equally. I’m not having three days of Cher or Kylie. I mean, I love them both, but not forty-five hours’ worth.”

“Can we get snacks?” Faith asked, her body relaxed again.

“Oh honey, we are going to have a stash of snacks. That’s like a road trip rule, numero uno.”

“What time are we heading out?” Mateo asked over the top of his coffee cup.

“Nice and early. Be ready by seven.”

“A.M?” Mateo screeched.

“Yes, a.m. Obviously. And don’t get all diva on me now, Hermano, it’s not like you will be driving first. So, be ready at seven and sleep in the car.”

“When do you think we will get to Vermont?” Faith asked.

“Hopefully by Wednesday.”

“You know, there must be a way of finding out if Molly is at that address before we haul our asses to the other side of the country,” Mateo remarked. Carmen had thought about it.

“True. But say we look the address up and it doesn’t have Molly listed as the tenant. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still in Vermont. We would need to ask the neighbors and current tenant if they have an idea where she might have moved too. Plus, I really want a road trip.”

“Alright. In that case, we need to get packed. Plus, it’s Sunday, and we all know what happens on a Sunday,” Mateo said expectantly.

“Facials and Manicures,” Carmen and Faith chanted back.

“Correct. Let’s get to it ladies!”

The day had started out horrifically, but by the time early evening rolled around, Carmen felt human again. The bucket full of coffee and three breakfast sandwiches helped.

With the car packed, Carmen was ready to go. The worst part about a road trip was the wait before going. She felt almost giddy, which wasn’t an emotion Carmen associated with herself very often.

At 9:45 p.m. the doorbell rang causing each of them to scream individually. “Who the hell is that?” Mateo demanded, rubbing his chest. “I almost poked my eye out with my tweezers.”

Carmen headed to the front door, equally irritated that there was someone at the house. Ripping open the door, Carmen was more than surprised to see Enid on her front porch.

“Evening dear,” Enid chirped. “I just came to drop my bag off.” Carmen—who towered over the old lady—stared down at her perfectly permed hair and bright green tracksuit. Next to Enid’s feet was a carry-on case adorned with palm trees.

“Um…” What was happening?

“Be a dear and pop it in the car. I’ll be over before half past seven.” Enid reached up and squeezed Carmen’s cheeks before retreating to her house. Carmen stood frozen for a few more moments, not sure how to process the interaction.

“Um…”

“Chica, who is it?” Mateo called.

“Um…”

“Carmen, are you alright?” Faith stood by her side, regarding the small suitcase. “Did Enid come round?”

“Yeah, I… well, I think she believes she’s coming with us tomorrow.” Carmen frowned. “How the hell does she know we’re going tomorrow?”

“Oh, I told her yesterday evening. Enid saw Rita and I carrying you in the house. She came around to make sure I was okay. Um… she may have taken a few photos of you two.” Faith waved her hand between Carmen and Mateo.

Carmen’s eyes stared back in horror. “What photos?”

“Oh, um, just you guys asleep while she drew things on your face. I washed them off when she left though.”

---