2,000 miles of post-it notes

Day One

The first post-it read:

Dearly beloved I have dearly departed.

 See you in the future of the New Year.

She pushed the bright yellow square against his door and wandered out of the house. The sun was glowing orange on the horizon, announcing the new day. Her car was packed with pop tarts, clothes, boots, hours of music, and a sleepy Chihuahua who would serve as a silent companion and navigator for their adventure. It had been a year and 2,000 miles since they had braved this particular trip but the reasons for going were vastly different this time. She wasn’t running away she was returning home.

The speed limit sign read 55 as her car took the curves at 70. She had not seen a car in almost an hour and doubted she would she any law enforcement this far out in the desert. She had been driving through state parks and reservations enjoying the cold scenery. The snowy capped mountains sat in the background of a golden landscape speckled with herds of cattle and cacti. It was hard to imagine that two hours earlier she had been in a city filled with millions of people all worrying about the impending holiday season.

She tried to blink away the headache that was forcing itself into her eyes. Her nose throbbed, perhaps it had not have been the best of ideas to have had a septum piercing done before going into a colder climate. She gently rubbed the tip of her nose trying to adjust the jewelry inside. She could still feel caked blood in her nostrils and that made her cringe. She tipped back her head and looked in the rearview mirror trying to glimpse the tiny, metal eyelet jammed that now deviated her septum.

Her car swung around another bend as it climbed altitude. She was quickly racing around the mountain side, trying to outrun a setting sun. Where is this darkness coming from? The clouds rolled across the winter sky and the sun was already past its peak. She knew she had at least five more hours of driving that day before she could check into a dingy motel room and sleep. In the distance she saw a sign that stated something about being “scenic.” Wasn’t everything scenic out here?

She pulled into a gravely lot that sat in front of the mountain side. Scenic. There were partial caves visible and a spectrum of red and browns shooting across the stone face. She unbuckled her seatbelt, pulled out her Polaroid camera, and nodded to the dog. “I’ll be back.” The dog perked up her ears but kept her eyes closed as the engine ran. Adin opened the door and stepped half way out of the car with one leg folded on the seat and the other holding her weight on the ground. A breeze rustled her baggy cargo pants as the sun beat down at a slanted angle.

This was the scenic view; a young girl in a bright white hello kitty beanie taking pictures of a mountain with an archaic film device. This was the last cartridge of instant film Adin had left. Once it was gone the camera would be retired to a place on her bookshelf never to be used again. She counted to three, took a deep breath, and pressed the silver button. The camera hummed and pushed out a rectangle of white and grey. She set the photo down on the car roof and pulled out a small sharpie marker that was always on her keychain. In a ragged scrawl she labeled the picture “scenic view.”

She pulled out her pad of yellow post-it notes and scrawled the same message in black ink. She peeked in the car to see what the Chihuahua was doing. Bella was contently sleeping and ignoring the current actions of her owner. Adin left the car door open and strode across the empty lot to the state park sign. She peeled off a piece of yellow paper and carefully pressed the sticky side down on to the back of the sign. She smiled

Once she was secured in her seat she tossed the picture into the console of her car for safe keeping. She knew she would add many more poorly lit pictures to her collection—at least nine more before this trip was through. The dog opened one eye, appraising the situation. “I know,” Adin murmured, “miles to go and miles to go.” The Chihuahua closed the eye and sighed. Adin pulled back onto the two lane highway and brought the speedometer to a steady 85.

She pulled out her cell phone and pressed the numbers that would call back East. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered, “Well hello there!”

“Hi, how are you?” Her parents had recently subscribed to modern technology which included caller I.D. so her mother always sounded excited when she answered the phone.

“Good, I was just thinking about you.” Her mother sounded somewhat bored.

“Oh, I hope it was good things…” Adin’s mind started to wander as her mom rattled off all of the events that had happened since the last time they had spoken. Her sibling was home for the holidays, her family up North had had a blizzard, and the family dogs were doing fine. “That’s good mom.”

“What are you doing today?”

 “Oh, I just decided to go out for a country drive. I’m going through snow in the mountains.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is it cold?” Her mom either faked interest well or she really cared about the weather 2,000 miles away.

“Not really, the snow is melting. It’s pretty. I just wanted to call and say hi,” and silently laugh she thought, because “country” had its double meaning. Adin had been planning this trip for weeks but her parents had no clue that she was coming home for her vacation.

“Your father is at the store. I think he is going to try to cook one of his soups,” her mom sighed.

“Ah, soup. Soup is good.”

“And if he made soup instead of one of his concoctions it would be even better.”

Adin laughed at her mother, it’s not like her father maliciously cooked things to piss his wife off it just happened. He had started this endeavor a few years ago when he was alone at the house on Sunday afternoons. Since his entrance into retirement he was bored. In an effort to keep busy, he had three hobbies; sleeping, reading, and cooking.

“Well, you have fun with that mom. I better let you go, I’m driving in the mountains and my cell is probably going to cut out. I’ll call you tomorrow or Tuesday, okay?”

“Alright, you have fun. Drive safe. Love you. Miss you.”

Adin smiled to herself, “love you too mom.”

She pushed the end button on her phone and leaned her head against the seat. The back road seemed to blur and then eventually melt into a highway. There were speed limits to adhere to now. There were traffic laws to follow, state troopers to respect, and other cars on the highway. Adin could no longer be as liberal with her speed. Goddamnit she thought to herself but then voiced her opinion out loud to her canine companion. Bella perked up one ear but remained neutral on the subject.

Adin was becoming a weary traveler fast and one way she combated the tired, road eyes was to stop periodically at gas stations and rest stops. She rarely went too far from the main highway and preferred the larger truck stops like Loves. She stopped for gas somewhere in Texas. The pumps were full as she pulled into the awkwardly shaped lot. People were hauling trailers of all sizes and a multitude of red pickup trucks were stationed at each pump. Her compact Toyota stood out amongst the American made vehicles.

She considered her options of getting gas or peeing first, she decided to go for a quick jaunt inside the building before waiting in line for precious gasoline. There was a small gift shop filled with the same key chains, postcards, and tee-shirts she had seen at every gas station that littered interstate 40. She turned around in a circle trying to locate the bathrooms. What would be in store this time? Would there be toilet paper? Would there be a dirty diaper? Maybe a tampon flung in the corner of a stall. The disgusting scenarios were endless when you were on a road trip.

She located a sign that pointed to the back of the building. She followed the arrows and came across a lounge designated for “experience drivers.” Was she inexperienced? The men that sat around the tables in mismatched chairs were older truckers. “Experienced drivers” was just another euphemism for truck driver. She kept walking and saw a laundry room and shower stalls. This was a strange place. Finally she found the toilets and proceeded to be amazed by their cleanliness. As she sat in the stall she pulled out her pack of post-it notes and scrawled across the middle “don’t drop the soap—experienced drivers.” She smiled, even if it didn’t make sense it amused her.

On her way out she slapped the post-it under one of the door knobs that led to a shower room. She had to walk through several rooms of fast food restaurants and noticed that the Burger King had laid out crowns on each table. She grabbed one before she skipped out the front doors and back to her car. As she filled up from a half tank of gas to eleven gallons even she wore the golden, cardboard crown. It tried to blow off in the winter wind. The men filling up their pickups stared. Maybe it was the crown, maybe it was the Hello Kitty beanie, or maybe it was the Chihuahua dancing in the passenger seat. Adin smiled in their general direction, she would do anything to pass the time.

An hour later she saw signs for a rest stop and thought it would be more appropriate to call it a stretch stop. Her back was already beginning to hate sitting at a ninety degree angle for hours at a time. She asked the Chihuahua if she wanted to walk around. The dog simply rolled on her side and closed her eyes. Alright, thought Adin, you are the laziest dog I have yet to own. She ran her fingers down the side of her companion traveler’s coat and quickly jumped out of the car. When Adin turned around the dog was standing at attention with two paws firmly placed on the dashboard. Bella wagged her tail as if to tell Adin the rest stop was safe. No one was in the parking lot. Adin was alone.

She walked past chained vending machines and headed into a pristine building. It was well lit, colorful, and had two attendants smiling and chatting to one another. There was a plethora of brochures about the interstate, scenic views, and tourist destinations. Adin was pleasantly surprised and made a mental note that Texas has the best public bathrooms in the West. There was a star pattern along the floor in the tile. The lone star state kept with its star theme to the very end. Adin had scribbled down her forth post-it note for the day “What is a lone star?” and stuck it on a vending machine near the parking lot. 

The sun was quickly setting into the winter horizon. Everything seemed to be getting colder by the minute and Adin was now on the lookout for a hotel. She had planned the trip and located a cheap place to stay outside of Amarillo, Texas. It was supposed to be a nice, pet friendly place. The GPS told her to make a few turns once she was off of the interstate, but a nice hotel was not what she found. The address that she went to belonged to a shady motel with a name she had never heard of before.

She was tired and looked around the lot. It was packed with cars and minivans in transit. The neon sign advertised a $29.99 a night fee and some of the motel guests were walking small dogs. Adin sighed and pulled into the front of the building. Inside the motel lobby a thin man covered in prison tattoos smiled at her. He looked like he could have been in his early thirties but years of drinking and chain smoking had left his skin and lips ragged and aged.

“Can I see your ID?” He asked politely despite his rough appearance. Adin handed over the blurry driver’s license and the motel attendant stared at it for forty seconds before looking up and asking how old she was.

“23,” she raised her voice to sound innocent and cute. She knew that the Hello Kitty beanie would probably be an advantage in keeping his attitude friendly.

“Alright, lemme make a copy,” he pushed a small form on the counter ledge as he turned away. “Fill this out.”

He turned around and Adin tried to focus on the simple written lines. Hours of driving had left her vision mildly blurry and her cognitive skills were in questioned. The bottom read something about declaring small pets as guests, “How much are dogs?”

He turned around, “five bucks.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, I got one of those,” she smiled and shifted her weight.

He handed her a key to room 250 and showed her on the map where it was located. She pulled the car around the side of the building as a large tour bus cut her off. It couldn’t park in the spaces behind the motel and was trying to maneuver into the Subway lot next to the building. Adin looked at Bella with one eyebrow raised.

“Well Miss Bella, it appears that we shall be sleeping in the same motel as a celebrity rapper.”

The dog wagged her tail as Adin scooped her up and tried to balance a mismatch of bags that served as her travel luggage. Bella squirmed as a large Yorkie barked angrily at them. Adin grumbled as the Chihuahua answered the Yorkie’s angry taunt.

“You know, this would be so much easier if you’d walk on your leash,” the dog continued to make a low growl as Adin slipped the key card through the slot of their room’s door. She pushed through using her knee and shoulder as she dropped the bags to the floor and tossed the small dog onto a king sized bed. The dog bounced and skidded across the slippery, green bedspread. Adin had let the door shut and latch behind her before she could hit a light.

She reached behind her and fumbled her hand along the wall searching for a switch. She found three and only one appeared to operate a light inside the room. The room was dingy. The mirror was streaked from smoke and poor cleaning. The carpet had faded spots, but overall this room looked like any motel you’d stay in for under thirty dollars a night, a step up from hourly rentals. It had the same patterned carpet with the same color schemes of greens. The television was positioned in front of the bed with the remote control resting on the top of the set. She could see soap freshly packaged on the sink next to bleached, white towels. At least there wasn’t a smell.

She sat down next to the Chihuahua. Bella looked at her with mild contempt; this was due to the dog toss that had been performed earlier. Adin absently patted Bella on the head. The dog was forgiving and scooted closer to maximize petting. Adin leaned forward and grabbed the remote. There were twenty channels, half of which were dedicated to Jesus and God. She tuned to the only one that was about God in Spanish, she already missed her desert home.

After a day in the car with a smelly dog and touching one too many public toilets Adin headed in for a shower. She threw a towel on the bathroom floor and turned on the faucet in the bathtub. The water reeked of bleach, which was odd. She turned on the shower head and the fumes were noxious. At least I’ll be clean she thought. She stepped into the scalding water and prayed that this bleaching would only enhance her beauty and not cause her skin to peel off in the morning.

The television channel was rapidly telling the audience about the birth of Jesus Christos as Adin dried off. There were children laughing and rapid footsteps moving up and down the corridors of the motel. This was one of those places where room access was from the outside, meaning these kids were running around outside at night. Adin shook her head. Their parents are probably so tired of being trapped in a confined space they would risk a possible Amber alert for some peace and quiet. Adin glanced at her dog, “this is why I have dogs and not children. I will cage you if you’re obnoxious.” The dog didn’t respond.

Day Two

The morning didn’t begin on a spectacular note. Adin woke up, pulled her Hello Kitty beanie over messy hair, attempted to put eye liner on, and packed the car. The dog was not thrilled with getting back into the car. As Adin left the checkout desk, she noticed a group of African American people leaving multiple rooms from the second level. She also noticed they were decked out in Ed Hardy, Affliction, Baby Phat, and various other urban or skater name brand clothing. The largest of the men looked familiar. She glanced out of the passenger side window and saw the same man on the side of the tour bus. She smiled and waved at them; they stared back blankly.

Interstate 40 would never end. Texas would never end. Up ahead she saw a sign for the world’s largest cross which was amusing since the world’s largest cross is also in another state further North. Adin had been on the road long enough to want to get out and walk around for a few minutes. Bella and her pulled off of the exit and followed the signs to the cross. The road to the church and cross was bumpy and unpaved.

“You’d think with all the donation money they get they’d pave their fucking driveway,” the dog had no comment to this.

Adin rubbed her septum. It was burning this morning. She rolled into the parking lot and stopped a few feet from the curb. There was another family there running around what appeared to be a garden of praying statues. The cross rose into the cloudless, blue sky. Adin turned in her seat to reach into the back of the car. Somewhere in the depths of her packing was a bag filled with cameras. She pulled out her precious instant film camera making a mental note of how many shots she had left.

She pulled the keys out of the ignition, nodded to the dog again, and slipped out of the car. She adjusted her beanie and zombie tee-shirt as she walked across the grassed lot. There were many different monuments on the church campus. She faced the giant cross and took large steps backward trying to fit as much of it in the frame as she could. She could feel the family staring at here. They knew she had no business there. She was godless.

Adin couldn’t help but think that displays like this were always somewhat sacrilegious. She wasn’t sure if heyzues creasetows, as the Spanish channel told her his name was, would approve of something so obscenely large in his honor. Wouldn’t the money spent in creating and maintaining this be put to better use if given to the poor, sick, or orphaned children? She snapped her picture and returned to the car, her dog, and the 40. One of the children saw a yellow square flapping in the wind near one of the praying statues. It read “Heyzues didn’t die on a cross this big—just saying.”

If there was one state to drive through that was worse than Texas it was probably Oklahoma. The roads were by far in the worst possible driving condition. To add insult to the injury of your vehicle there were toll road charges. Adin on more than one occasion thought about driving her car into a road barrier to break up the monotony of the highway. She drove through Oklahoma City and Tulsa, both being a miserable experience.

“This may not be a politically correct statement Bella,” the dog glanced up at her as if the following words would be wisdom and truth, “but after driving around Oklahoma City I want to bomb shit too…” The dog laughed and Adin blinked. “Oh shit, I’m hallucinating. I think it’s time to make a pit stop?” The dog didn’t move from her sitting position.

Adin stopped at a gas station with a Subway attached. The line was long so she went to the bathroom before ordering a sandwich. While she stood in line every attendant working complimented her on her hat. Adin had to smile; no one had mentioned the beanie before that moment. She took the food back to her car and pulled around to the back of the building. She had the radio playing as she watched the fields sway in the breeze. Once she was done she crumpled up the wrapper and bag and got out of the car to throw it in a large, green dumpster that was a few feet from where she had parked. She pulled out her yellow pad and smiled as the black ink sunk into the paper; “OKLAHOMA: Nicest people—shittiest roads.”

It was turning to dusk when Adin and Bella reached Missouri. How many more fucking states are there? Adin’s brain whispered as the sun changed from yellow to burnt orange. Adin pulled into the twelfth gas station of her trip and leaned against the pump as she thought about the night ahead. She had planned on staying in a motel in St. Louis, but after last night’s lack of sleep and bleach bath she didn’t want to stop. She would finish her drive, even though it meant nineteen straight hours of driving. The pump clicked and she slid back into the driver’s seat.

“Bella, we’re going home. No more of this lonely driving. We’re not going to stop tonight. Is that okay with you?” The dog wagged her tail and then rolled on her side so Adin could rub her stomach. “Bella, you’re the bestest friend ever.” The dog wiggled in agreement as Adin scratched under her front legs. The two pulled off onto the highway looking for St. Louis and another highway that would lead them to home.

The hours melted into one another. Adin didn’t realize she had entered Illinois until she read it on the pump at a small gas station. It was two or three a.m. when Adin stopped at a station again. It was small and dingy looking. There was a car parked in the far corner of the lot with frost creeping at the edges of the windshield. No one was at a pump and Adin wasn’t fully aware of what state she was in. She was exhausted.

Warm air rushed over her as she wandered through the front doors into the convenience section of the station. Off to the left were two old women playing automated slot machines. They didn’t notice Adin heading off to the bathroom nor did they notice the small dog jumping in the front seat of the car parked outside. The pictures spun in front of them as they fed the machines quarter after quarter. They didn’t notice that Adin liberated a sucker from the front counter as she left. They probably would never notice the yellow post-it on the bathroom wall that said; “Lady Luck was here, too bad she didn’t flush.”

Adin and Bella passed through St. Louis with no problems. The arches were beautiful, curving into the night sky as traffic dotted the roadways nearby. Indiana suddenly appeared on the GPS screen and Adin knew she only had four hours to go. She began to stop every hour in an effort to stay awake. Her desert skin was still not used to the frigid cold and standing outside without a jacket helped energize tired eyes. It was at her first stop in Indiana that she posted a small note, “70 east to home.” The yellow square hung on the side of a truck stop building for a few moments before blowing off and disappearing into the night.

Her heart rose when she saw the sign that announced her entry into Ohio. She was almost there. She would continue to follow 70 eastbound, which would return her to the warmth of her old home and good friends.  She had been chugging liters of caffeinated beverages and felt the urge to make one more stop before arriving at her final destination. There was a sign for a rest stop ahead and she pulled off of the exit.

When she came to the lot it was empty and several of the lights were burnt out. The place was creepy, but not the worst she had stopped at in the past two days. She quickly ran into the women’s side of the square hovel. The room was frigid and dirty. Ohio did not have the best public facilities in the country. 

As Adin left the bathroom she paused by the pillars in front of the building. She stuck her final post-it note outside of the men’s restroom. Snow was gently falling and a slight breeze rustled the loose bits of hair around her face. She pulled her hood over her Hello Kitty beanie. Isa was standing at attention watching her. Adin took a step forward but never made it off of the curb. A hand wrapped around her mouth. Bella watched silently as the barren trees swayed in the strengthening wind with snow beginning to stick to the branches.

Day 3

The next morning a minivan pulled into a nearly empty lot of a rest stop. There was a small car with a tiny dog standing in the driver’s side seat. The next hour became only flashes of memories in those that had unfortunately stopped there that day. They would remember the small dog that wanted out of a locked car. They would remember the way the sun lit the drying blood that was streaked across the pavement.  They would always remember the pad of yellow post-it notes in the girl’s pocket.