A Trip to Vegas
by hannah
January 9th, 2012
The sun is beating down on my car, and the AC is pumping. I’m drinking coffee out of my travel mug, and Holly is drinking the vodka and OJ we bought at a convenience store, out of the extra travel mug I gave her. We’re forty-eight miles into our trip to Vegas.
Holly takes a sip out of her travel mug, “do you love him?”
I take a sip out of my travel mug, “of course.”
Holly adjusts the AC, “good, because Mom thinks you’re on the rebound from what’s-his-name.”
I scoff at my mother thinking she knows anything about my life, considering every time I try to tell her anything she puts her own spin on it as if she hasn’t heard a word I said.
“When did you talk to mom?” Holly doesn’t just call my parents out of the blue to catch up. They have a strained relationship at best, so she only calls them when she wants something.
“A couple days ago, I wanted Aunt Helen’s number.”
