Category: Millie’s Story

Molly was still cold. According to the TV in Subway, the outside temperature was 25 degrees. It didn’t feel much warmer inside the bus. After the bus departed Toledo and crossed the Maumee River, she quickly realized the need for extra clothing. It had been fortuitous her mother had bought the thick red Christmas sweater while at Walmart. Molly wished she’d insisted on some insulated under-clothes; not cotton, but wool. Oh well, at least the seat was comfortable, and it reclined.

It didn’t take long for Millie and Molly to settle in and start listening to music through their cell phones. Greyhound offered WiFi but didn’t allow streaming YouTube or any other service—something about slowing down WiFi for other passengers. Thankfully, at Walmart after activating their new phones, Molly had suggested downloading some music for their journey since their data plans were so small. With Walmart’s WiFi, and Catherine’s Spotify account, they now had an assortment of play-lists to pick from. Molly assumed her mother’s best friend at work at volunteered her access codes. Millie wouldn’t have asked.

After two songs, Molly removed her ear plugs and listened. No doubt her mother was fast asleep. Her slow and soft consistent puffs were a dead giveaway. Molly straightened her seat, reached for her book bag nestled at her feet, and removed the iPhone 7 Alisha had given her last night.

Molly didn’t hesitate to text her BFF. “Are you still up?” The short and dumpy redhead had come into her life in Kindergarten. They’d been best buds ever since. There were no secrets between them.

“Yep, just lying here thinking about you, wondering where you are and why I haven’t heard anything all day.” Catherine wasn’t the only person who was generous. It had been Alisha’s idea. Last night during the sleepover Molly and Alisha had cried themselves to sleep troubled they might never see each other again. But, this morning, early, before Molly had gotten out of bed, Alisha had snuck out of her room and conversed with Alistair, her fifteen year old brother. In exchange for doing his chores for two months, he had given her an old iPhone 7. It no longer had phone service but still worked on WiFi. Molly had been reluctant to accept it but did so at Alisha’s insistence. “How else are we going to communicate?”

“I’m on a Greyhound bus. Our car broke down in Perrysburg, Ohio. Mom rules.”

“That’s kinda cool. Where are you now?” Molly could picture Alisha’s bedroom. Three times the size of her tiny room. Alisha, Alistair and their parents lived in the Auburn Gresham area in what was clearly a mansion compared to the old and deteriorating dump on Princeton Avenue where Millie and Molly, and Mr. Demon lived. Oh to have had a safe opportunity this morning to call him that to his face.

“About ninety minutes from Cleveland. It’ll take 24 hours to reach NYC. Mom said it’s only nine hours by car, straight through.”

Molly kept glancing at her mother knowing she’d be livid if she discovered the secret phone. The guilt was palpable, as was the loneliness Molly felt from being separated from her best friend. This war had caused Molly’s hesitation in accepting Alisha’s gift. What if the old iPhone somehow someway led Mr. Demon to them in New York City? Alisha had assured her that was impossible. She’d asked Alistair the same question. “It’s untraceable without a sim card.” Molly hoped that was correct.

“That’s a downer. Btw, how’s your mom?” Molly had shared her mother’s roller-coaster emotional ride since Mr. Demon’s first attack.

“She had to go to the ER last night. The bastard hit her with a beer can. Caused a big gap above her eye. Took three stitches. Her fight eye is almost black. Thankfully, she’s held together good and is taking her meds like she’s supposed to.”

TO BE CONTINUED

Millie was surprised to learn the bus station served both Greyhound and Amtrak. The decision was easy given the goal of being as frugal as reasonably possible. The Sentra’s death had heightened both Millie and Molly’s desire to conserve cash.

The next available Amtrak departed at 11:49 PM and arrived at Penn Station in New York City at 6:50 PM Saturday night. Although that was six plus hours faster than the scheduled bus ride, the trip would cost an extra $150, and that was for coach only, two-seats. A private room would cost an additional $348. Two-hundred thirty-eight dollars to Greyhound for two seats was their only viable option.

The next six hours were long and difficult, made more so by Molly’s incessant request to “get out and do something, and I’ll pay.” She used her own phone to develop a multi-hour itinerary: walk to nearby Middleground Metro Park and enjoy the half-mile walking trail, then walk two blocks to the highly rated San Marcos Mexican Restaurant on Summit Avenue, then, for desert, venture south to the The Original Sub for a slice of their Chocolate strawberry olive oil cake with orange whipped cream and crushed fruit, and finally, take an Uber to the Cinemark theater and watch the 6:45 PM showing of “Little Women.”

Reluctantly and regrettably, Millie vetoed Molly’s plan, took another Depakote, and slept on the furtherest bench from the station entrance until 8:45. When she awoke, Molly was reading Where the Red Fern Grows, the second book she’d failed to return to the Harvard Elementary School’s library.

After a quick trip to the restroom, Molly suggested they eat at the in-house Subway. She again offered to pay. Molly was such a loving and forgiving child, and did her best over the next ninety minutes to encourage Millie who seemed anxious, and depressed.

The bus was ten minutes early and departed on time. From their seats toward the rear, Molly squeezed Millie’s hand and whispered, “Cleveland, Ohio, here we come.” Millie managed a smile and planted a soft kiss on her daughter’s forehead.

After some discussion and a little negotiating, Millie and Molly decided to alter their decision of stopping every hour or so and instead to take a longer break in Perrysburg. It was the approximate midpoint between South Bend and Youngstown, their ultimate goal for the day. The only exception would be if either of them had to go to the restroom.

Two and a half hours later, with a sleeping Molly in the back seat, Millie decided to bypass Perrysburg and continue on. She thought to herself: “Like, miraculously, I’d know how to resolve the grinding sound I’ve been hearing for the past hour every time I speed up to pass someone.” Although she was torn whether to return to Chicago and accept Matt’s Tahoe offer, it seemed best to continue on and contact an auto repair shop when they arrived in Youngstown. Maybe, all the Sentra needs is a transmission flush like Colton had mentioned.

Fifteen minutes later the twenty-year old Nissan had other plans. The moment it entered the long bridge across the Maumee River, the grinding noise doubled, the entire car began shaking, and the burning smell became so bad Millie thought her first and only new car might catch fire. She quickly realized with the cars and eighteen wheelers whizzing by that their progress was slowing. In a quarter mile the car lurched forward one final time, just enough for Millie to steer to her right and stop within an inch of the metal guard rail that separated them from the dark, murky water below.

“Molly, wake up.” Millie turned and reached over the seat and shook her daughter’s leg. “We’re stuck. We need to get out of the car and watch traffic.” The latter sounded silly but Millie knew they didn’t need to risk being hit from the rear. At least outside, they could walk east and away from the car enough to hopefully escape death if a car or truck creeped to the right and rammed the Sentra.

“What’s wrong?” Molly sat sideways in the seat with her back to the door. She looked behind and watched the passing traffic. “Why’d you stop here.”

“Come on, I’ll explain. Be careful, watch for cars.”

It was almost two hours before the wrecker arrived. Millie had Googled and found two auto repair shops in Perrysburg. She didn’t know why but she’d chosen Ray’s Service Center & Towing over Steve’s Family Auto.

“Are you Ray?” Millie asked as the short and stocky man in a greasy red hat exited the blue and white vehicle and approached the two stranded females.

“Nope. I’m Bobby. You got car troubles?” Bobby was perceptive. Millie described the Sentra’s problems, detailing each symptom and her in vain efforts to patch things up with extra fluids.

“You need a transmission. That’ll cost you.”

“How much?” Molly interjected but Millie closed her eyes and shook her head sideways.

“Never mind. Just give us a tow back to your shop and we can talk about it there.” Millie said, resigned to forking over thousands, her skin tingling. Not good.

It was a quarter past noon when Bobby turned right off Louisiana Avenue and pulled the wrecker alongside a neat and modern three-bay metal building. Millie opened the passenger door and Molly slide out beside her. The two had held a hand across their noses and mouths to ward off Bobby’s BO. The wafting smell coming from Perry’s Burgers across the parking lot was welcoming and prevented both from gagging or throwing up.

“Ray’s at lunch. You girls can sit inside.” Bobby pointed toward a side door with a sign that read, “Welcome.” Thankfully, he walked inside the shop, selected some tools from a giant red box, and hid himself underneath the hood of a late model Camaro.

The waiting room was small with six stiff chairs and two vending machines: one supplied by Coca Cola, the other filled with an assortment of candy bars, gum, granola bars, chips & pretzels, cookies, and crackers. Millie bought a Diet Coke for herself and a Sprite for Molly who returned to the Sentra for a bag of snacks they’d purchased at Walmart.

Ray and a woman, possibly his wife, returned at 1:15. To Millie and Molly’s surprise, the two were the total opposite of Bobby. They were dressed in neat, casual clothes, and were odorless. The woman retreated to a room marked “Office” and Ray approached and held out a hand. “I’m Ray. Sorry about your troubles. Bobby tells me it sounds like transmission issues.”

Ray led them inside the office and pointed to two chairs in front of the room’s second desk. Millie didn’t hesitate, thinking she might as well hear the bad news. “What will a new one cost?”

After detailing the options to replace the Sentra’s transmission—new one, used one with minimal guarantee, and a rebuilt one with extended warranty—and the range of costs—$1600 to $3200—Ray announced an equally troubling fact. It would take a week to diagnose the true problem, and if that’s what the doctor ordered, to secure a transmission from either option, would take at least five or six work days, given their current work orders.

Millie and Molly walked outside and pondered their options. Molly suggested calling Matt and figuring out a plan to unite them with his Tahoe. That seemed like defeat, something like a dog returning to its vomit. Millie rejected that and instead Googled the nearest Greyhound Bus station.

By 3:00 PM Millie had learned the nearest Greyhound was fifteen to twenty minutes away in Toledo and there was a bus departing for New York City at 10:30 tonight. The decision was made, with Molly reluctantly agreeing. The cost to repair the Sentra was just too much, given its age and market value, not even considering the near-week delay.

After paying Ray a hundred-twenty dollars in cash for their tow bill, Millie convinced him to ship Molly’s stuffed animals to their new apartment. The thing that felt bad was giving Ray their new address, but given their importance to Molly and the limited options, she finally convinced herself the risk was minimal. She handed Ray another twenty-dollar bill, and Googled a taxi service.

At 3: 55 PM, the Uber driver delivered them to the Emerald Avenue bus station in Toledo. Another twenty-six dollars down and all Millie and Molly had to do now was wait six and a half-hours before they were back on their journey to New York City.

“Code A,” Millie announced as Molly rushed away for the restroom. This was Millie’s oft-repeated plea for Molly to be observant, to always be aware of what was happening around her.

Without thinking, Millie opened the Sentra’s gas tank door and removed a debit card from her pant’s pocket. “Whoa.” She said aloud causing the man at the other side of the pump to look her way.

Earlier, before leaving home, Millie had removed the card from her wallet and stuck it inside her front right pocket. She’d meant to cut it up with scissors before leaving the house but had forgotten. “You dumb ass. That’s all we need, a trail of breadcrumbs scattered from Chicago to New York City, all showing on Colton’s next bank statement.”

The actual plan was to use cash to pay for expenditures along the eight-hundred mile journey. Shortly after arriving in New York City, Millie would find a conveniently located bank and open a new account. A quick call or text to Matt would initiate the transfer of money he was holding for her that she’d withdrawn from her 401K account. Another reason to be thankful. For the eight years she’d worked for Quinn Law she’d had the payroll clerk deduct $30 per week. That, along with the firm’s one-hundred percent matching, had grown to $32,468.28, including interest and market growth. Not much to start a new life in New York City especially after paying taxes and penalties, but she smiled as she thought about the good job Matt had gotten her.

Millie walked inside and scoured the store for the automotive section. After paying cash for two quarts of oil, two quarts of transmission fluid, and ten gallons of gas, she returned to the Sentra. She inserted the hose and raised the hood, breathing out and struggling to forget the mistake she’d made in refusing to accept Matt’s Tahoe offer.

Inside, Molly washed her hands and returned to the store. A rack of cards caught her attention. She was staring at the front cover of a Hallmark depicting pencil drawn dogs of every shape, size, and color centered around a five word congratulatory declaration: “Yah! Your new best friend!” Molly imagined receiving the card from Alisha three days after the late night phone call announcing the adoption of a black Lab or Golden Retriever.

“Stay put while I go to the bathroom.” Millie told Molly in passing.

Inside, she washed her hands, and swallowed a 500 mg Depakote pill. It was half of what Dr. Maharaja had prescribed but the full load always caused extreme drowsiness. Millie would take the other half tonight in Youngstown where Molly had begged to spend the night. The curious twelve-year-old hated riding and wanted to break up the long drive and hopefully take a long walk.

Millie locked herself in a private stall and peed. She closed her eyes and realized this was the third day she’d been so euphoric, so energized. No doubt, the reason why she’d slept so little last night.

As soon as she stood and snapped her pants, the image reappeared. It had been the same one for a week. Millie was in the clouds walking toward New York City along a square-tiled pathway, each one three feet apart. And, it was the same song—“Everyone Hurts,” by R.E.M.— playing as she carefully stepped from one tile to the next.

The slamming of the stall door next to her’s snapped Millie back to reality. “Hang on, hang on,” she kept telling herself, ignoring the lavatory, and exiting the restrooms. Molly was still at the card stand but now talking with a white-haired, bearded man leaning on a cane. So much for Code A.

The next few minutes didn’t register with Millie. Somehow, her and Molly had returned to the Sentra and ridden away, and were now passing Exit 77. Molly was stretched out in the back seat reading The Wind in the Willows.

---

Here’s “Everybody Hurts” if you want to listen.

When was the last time you drove your car (or, you were a passenger) from Chicago to New York City? Ever?

Me?

No. Never.

But, that’s what Millie was doing at the end of yesterday’s scene. Well, her and daughter Molly were starting that journey having just merged onto I-90.

Four hours later their always-before-now trusty 1999 Sentra balks on I-80 while crossing the Maumee River just east of Perrysburg, Ohio. The high mileage Nissan calls it quits before exiting the quarter-mile causeway.

This imaginary event came to mind during this morning’s planning. Initially, I knew today’s writing objective—and probably tomorrow’s and maybe even Sunday’s—was to draft the details of Millie and Molly’s near-800 mile journey. In part, I wanted it to be especially memorable for Molly, Millie’s precocious twelve-year-old.

In an earlier scene I’d mentioned Millie’s vehicle so today I felt it realistic for it to develop some mechanical issues, even breakdown. I supposed I likened the twenty-year-old Sentra to Chekhov’s gun. “If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall, then in the following one it should be fired. Otherwise don’t put it there.”

My auto breakdown idea was all I knew about this scene (now, I’m thinking it’s going to take several scenes). This is inherent in being a pantser. Even if I were a plotter, I suspect its impossible to know everything before the drafting process begins.

My type of scene planning always involves brainstorming. No different today. In deciding where the breakdown would take place (my decision, not Millie’s!) I used Google Maps and found a city around four hours ‘down the road.’ There was some trial and error. I saw Perrysburg, OH along the route and plugged it into the Directions feature (FROM Chicago, TO Perrysburg). I then scanned the Map using satellite view and spotted the Maumee River east of Perrysburg. Magic.

The next question was easy. What would Millie do? Note, it’s important to ‘become’ the main character. What would she do? Not necessarily what you the author would do. Her answer, she would call for help. After a quick Google search, “auto repair/road service near Perrysburg, OH,” she chose Ray’s Service Center & Towing over Steve’s Family Auto. Obviously, these are real places. It’s okay to use them fictionally. Ray’s tows the Sentra to his garage in Perrysburg.

Once he diagnoses the car’s problem, Millie has another question to answer. She’s just learned the cost to repair her Sentra is more than its worth. Recall, she and Molly are fleeing a bad situation in Chicago. Millie is committed to leaving Colton behind. Forever. She ultimately concludes her and Millie will take Greyhound bus to New York City. A couple of Google searches reveal the nearest bus station is in Toledo, fifteen miles away, and an Uber service is available to take them there.

At this point, I (as author) need to obtain details about the Greyhound bus ride. Fortunately, their website supplied all I needed. I believe it is important to discover the logistics, to learn what my characters will have to deal with. Greyhound’s site allowed me—without registering or anything–to plug in the desired departure time and location, and the destination. It even provided a detailed itinerary showing arrival and departure times at every stop along the way, which are, in order: Cleveland, Akron, and Youngstown, OH; Pittsburgh, Midway Plaza, Harrisburg, Norristown King Prussia E., and Philadelphia, PA; Camden, Mt. Laurel, and Newark, NJ; and, New York George Washington Bridge in New York City. Doesn’t this twenty-one hours and five-minute journey sound fun?

There’s still a lot of brainstorming to do, but this is a start.

You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.

Jodi Picoult

Here’s my attempt today to avoid a blank page:

The moment the school’s front door closed behind them, Molly grabbed Millie’s hand. “Stop, tell me what happened. What did he hit you with this time?” The twelve-year-old knew good and well her mother’s blackening eye and three-inch stitching wasn’t from an accident.

“I will, but come on. There’s probably cameras out here.”

Molly descended the stairs and raced to the parked Sentra. After tossing her book bag in the rear seat she waited on her mother thankful their nightmare was ending. “Did you call the police?” Now, she wished she hadn’t spent the night with Alisha.

“Hop in.” The scene from Thanksgiving flashed across Millie’s mind.

The drive to Walmart took five minutes. Thankfully, the traffic on S. Vincennes was light. By the time they arrived Millie had shared a detailed account of what had happened the night before, leaving out the main reason Colton had become enraged.

“If I’d been there I would have killed him.”

“Molly, don’t say that. I’ve taught you better. Think.” They exited the car and headed to the main entrance. “What would have happened to you, to us, if you had shot Colton?”

“Did I say I would have shot him?”

“You know what I mean.” Millie was proud that her daughter was as open as she was, especially after what they’d been through the past year.

“Maybe me in prison or a group home but you would at least have your freedom.” Molly grabbed a buggy as they entered Walmart.

Millie lay an arm across Molly’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “Dear, that wouldn’t be freedom for either of us.” They paused to disinfect their hands.

“Here’s a better idea. Why don’t we take a road trip and never come back.”
“Deal.” Mother and daughter fist-bumped and headed to Electronics.

By 10:15 Millie and Molly had purchased two new cell phones and an assortment of snacks at Walmart, withdrawn eighteen hundred forty six dollars and twenty-eight cents from their secret account at the 83rd Street Bank of America, swung by That’s-a-Burger, and merged onto I-90E.

“New York City, here we come.” Molly screamed into the cold air rushing in from her lowered window before cramming a giant bite of turkey burger in her mouth.