The smile finally left his face. "Well, I don't lie, missy," he said. "I can't help it if you've been shut up in a small town all your life." He realized how angry he sounded, glanced quickly at Mommy, and replaced his angry expression with a syrupy smile. "But, thankfully, that's all going to change. Right, Haille?"
"Yes." She shot a fiery look at me. "It definitely is."
I shut up after that. They wanted to have coffee and dessert, but I didn't. I asked to be excused and was permitted to wait in the car. Neither seemed unhappy about getting rid of me. Archie gave me the keys and I left the diner and flopped in the rear seat, fuming and frustrated. They took their time. It was nearly a half hour before they came out, arm in arm, giggling like children.
"How's the country princess doing?" Archie asked as he started the engine.
"Wonderful," I said.
"Good, because we don't want any unhappy country princesses in our chariot, do we Queen HaiIle?"
"No," she said. "It's against the law to be unhappy, isn't it?"
"Exactly. I, King Archie--I mean, King Richard--do hereby declare all tears and sadness prohibited from our lives from this day forward. Anyone who complains about anything gets a demerit. Anyone who has two demerits becomes the gopher."
"Gopher?" Mommy asked.
"Yeah, you know: go for this, go for that."
Mommy got hysterical with laughter and we were off. "Where were you born?" I asked Archie after a few minutes on the road.
"Me? Detroit."
"Don't you have any family?"
"Not that I care to remember," he said.
"Why not?"
"Melody," Mommy chastised, "I taught you better than that. You know better than to pry into someone else's personal affairs," she said.
"I wasn't prying. I was just making
conversation, Mommy. You complained about my being too quiet before, didn't you?"
"Yes, but you don't have to cross-examine Richard, do you?"
"I just wondered if it wasn't the other way around," I said with a shrug.
"What do you mean?" Archie asked.
"I just wondered if it wasn't your relatives that would rather not remember you."
"Melody!"
Archie wagged his head. "She's a card. You're going to do just fine, Melody." In the rearview mirror, I saw his smile fade and his eyes suddenly turn glassy cold.
"She's not usually like this," Mommy explained. "It's all the excitement, I'm sure."
Archie said nothing. He turned on the radio. Darkness grew thicker and we drove into a shower that turned into a downpour. The windshield wipers couldn't keep up and they were apparently worn out anyway. The window became lined with streaks.
"Looks like we won't make as much time and distance as I had hoped," Archie remarked. "Best thing would be to find a motel and pull in for the night."
"Whatever you think, Richard," Mommy said. "You're the seasoned traveler. We're in your capable hands." It was enough to make me want to puke. I stared angrily out the front window into the darkness, interrupted now and then by oncoming car headlights. They made the drops of rain look like slivers of ice that sent shivers down my spine.
About ten minutes later, Archie turned the car into the parking lot of a motel. Rain was falling in sheets by now, so hard we could barely see the motel's neon sign. Archie pulled his jacket over his head and ran through the raindrops to the office door.
The moment he left the car, Mommy turned on me. "Melody, I wish you would treat Richard with respect. He is an adult, you know."