Amy & Roger's Epic Detour

I felt my breathing speed up, and I knew I was circling around what I could no longer not say. “The accident,” I said, trying to force my voice to stay audible. I took a shaky breath and said it. “It was my fault. It’s my fault that he died.”

“Amy,” Roger said, looking over at me sharply. “Of course it wasn’t your fault.”

Other people had said the same thing. But this was just what you said to people. And none of them knew. None of them had actually been there. “But it was,” I whispered. And I took another breath and told him why.

I’ll be right here with you, come what may.

—Elvis Presley

MARCH 8—THREE MONTHS EARLIER

I stepped out into the sunlight and slipped on my new sunglasses. I couldn’t help wondering what my mother was going to do to Charlie. Being picked up by the police for sleeping on a park bench, still stoned, had to merit some kind of punishment. Maybe this would make my parents finally see what was happening with him. I walked down the driveway, toward the garage, and looked back to the house, where I could hear my mother’s voice, still sharply edged with worry and anger.

“And then once you’ve gotten him,” she said as she stepped outside, my father following, letting the screen door slam behind him, “I’m going to need you to stop at the store. So just give me a call when you get there and I’ll tell you what we need.”

My father gave her a look as he slipped on his ancient sunglasses, aviators with lenses so scratched I was always amazed that he could see through them. “Or you could tell me now,” he said, a smile in his voice. “That’s always an option.”

“Right,” my mother said, shaking her head. “We’ve been through that before.”

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, kissing her quickly, causing me to automatically avert my eyes.

“Call if there’s a problem,” she called to us.

“We will,” my father and I called back in unison, and we exchanged a smile when we realized this.

“Amy, where are your shoes?” my mother yelled to me, sounding exasperated.

“Oh.” I looked down at my bare feet. “Just a second,” I said to my father, dashing across the lawn. It was still wet, and freshly mowed—an unfortunate combination, and as I looked down, I could see that grass clippings were sticking to my feet. I ran up the steps to the house and around my mother, still standing in the doorway, to grab my flip-flops from the basket in the mudroom.

I slipped them on and headed outside again, where my mother was holding the car keys in her hand. “Ben, keys,” she said in what my father referred to as her Exasperated Voice.

“I’ve got them,” I said, grabbing them from her hand and giving her a quick wave. I ran across the lawn to the garage, and headed around to the driver’s side. I tossed the keys in my hand and gave my father my most convincing smile. “I’ll drive.”

He smiled and walked around to the passenger side as I opened the driver’s door and adjusted the seat. I buckled my seat belt, and pointed at my father. “Buckle up,” I said. My father hated wearing seat belts, and the only way Charlie and I had ever gotten him to wear one was by refusing to put ours on until he buckled up too.

“Come on, pumpkin,” my father said in his best persuasive voice. “We’re in a hurry. Why don’t we just go?”

“Fine,” I said, unbuckling my own seat belt and turning the key in the ignition the ignition. “Let’s go.”

My father grumbled and pulled on his seat belt. “Happy now?” he asked.

“Very,” I said, snapping my own back in. “Thank you. I’m telling you, you’ll thank me someday.” I looked into the rearview mirror and began to back slowly down the driveway.

“Music?” my father asked as I pulled the car around the cul-de-sac.

I’d had my license for three months now, but I still had to concentrate when I drove, and was just recently becoming okay with having music playing in the car. When I just had my permit, and found the three-point turn to be on par with quantum physics in terms of difficulty, I’d needed total silence at all times. “Sure,” I said as I braked at a stop sign. “You want to hear the King?”

“You need to ask?” my father asked, flipping through the CDs. “Ah,” he said, taking one out of its case and sliding it into the player.

“Which one is that?” I asked. When I was driving, I reserved the right to be picky about the Elvis that was played. None of the Hawaii stuff was permitted, for example.

“I think you’ll approve,” he said, skipping through the tracks. A moment later, “All That I Am” began to play.

“Nice,” I said, smiling at him. “I like this song.”

“I know you do,” my father said. “That’s because you are my daughter, and the child of my heart.” We drove for a minute, listening to the King croon. “And as a matter of fact,” my father added after a moment, “I think we should dance to this at your wedding. Sound like a plan?”

“Dad,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Gross. Plus, I think that’s a few years away. You know, just a couple.”

“Sorry,” he said, but he was still chuckling, and I had a feeling that he didn’t mean it. “Hand,” he said, and I carefully took one off the wheel. He turned my palm up, placed something inside, and then folded my fingers over again. When I opened my palm, there was a Life Saver sitting there. It looked like Butter Rum, and I glanced over to see my father tossing back one of his own.

“Thank you,” I said, popping it in my mouth.

I pulled up to the intersection at Campus Drive, and realized I didn’t know the way from here. “Right? Left?” I asked. It was odd to have to need directions in a car I was so used to navigating in.

“Left,” my father said. “Take University.” He sighed and looked out the window. “Let’s get this over with.”

As I put on my turn signal, I saw him crunch down on another Life Saver. “Have you known about this?” he asked, interrupting the King. “About your brother, I mean?”

I glanced over at him, then back at the road, wondering how much to tell him, and wondering if there was any point now in still trying to cover for Charlie. “I knew something was going on,” I said. I thought of the failed intervention I’d tried to stage, and wished now that I’d just told my parents about it then. I pulled up to the intersection and braked when the light turned yellow, making some people behind me, who must have been hoping for me to run it, honk unhappily.