Read Online A Bump in the Road by Maureen Lipinski - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Maureen Lipinski
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check it out. It’s really popular, too. How many hits do you get every day?”
“I don’t know. It’s never the same.”
“How many on average?”
“Something like twenty thousand.”
“See, Aunt Marianne? Twenty thousand people read it every day.”
“You know me, I don’t have time to check my e-mail. I’m just so busy, busy. You know who is also very popular?”
“Who?” Carrie asked, rolling her eyes slightly at me.
“My friend Sally’s daughter Amanda. She writes columns for our church bulletin. She is such a good writer. You should call her sometime and get some writing tips.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, not looking up from my magazine.
“Are you girls sure you don’t want to go antiquing with us?”
“Positive,” Carrie said.
As soon as Marianne was gone I said, “Thanks for trying.”
“No problem. Don’t let her get under your skin. It’s not worth it. She’ll be in the nuthouse in a few years anyway.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. Jake doesn’t understand why his mother makes me want to drink myself to death sometimes.” As soon as I said it, I got very sad again when I realized I’m going to spend the next nine months dealing with my mother-in-law without the aid of any intoxicants.
“No problem. I feel your pain. Marianne asked me last week after my photography exhibition why I take pictures of boring things like the sky and clouds instead of babies dressed as flowers like that Anne Geddes.”
“Nice. So what are we doing tonight? We should probably make plans so we don’t get roped into corn husking or something of the sort.”
“I already know what we’re doing tonight and it doesn’t involve any cranapple martinis this time,” Carrie said, and smiled at me. She flung her magazine on the ground and laid her head back.
“Oh, uh. Good. I mean, what?” I said, suddenly uncomfortable.
“We’re going to this bar about five minutes up the road. Patrick and I passed it on the way here. It’s practically in the middle of a cornfield. It’s one of those places without a name or address, just neon beer signs in the window.”
“Huh? You want to go to some weird bar?”
“Of course! It will be a blast. We can get drunk off of two-dollar beers with all of the alky locals.”
“Oh, um, yeah.” I shifted in my chair and thought,
How the hell am I going to get out of this one?
She opened her eyes, assuming my hesitation meant ambivalence. “Fine, stay here and sing campfire songs with the mosquitoes while the three of us hang out in the air-conditioning.”
“I’ll probably have to be designated driver since it’s my turn.” Yes! I found a loophole!
“Whatever. That’s fine. Too bad for you, though.”
“Yeah, gee, too bad,” I said. Looking back, I’m surprised she didn’t bust me right there with how horribly I delivered the line. I should’ve just snapped my fingers and added an “Aw shucks.”
But Carrie just looked down at her hand and said, “My ring is amazing.”
Sunday, May 13
We left to go out around nine last night. Despite my fears the entire place would stare and the music would stop with a loud
riiipppp
when we walked in the door, no one even looked up when we entered. In fact, there were only two other people there, and they looked too hammered to even lift their heads up.
“What do you want?” Jake asked.
“Diet Coke.”
He signaled to the bartender.
“A Diet Coke and a Bud Light bottle.”
The bartender shook his head and wiped the sweat dripping off his forehead. “No glass in here. Cans only.”
Jake looked at me and shrugged.
“A can is fine,” he said to the bartender.
“What are you guys getting?” I asked Carrie and Patrick.
“Three vodka shots please,” Carrie said to the bartender.
An hour later, they were all pretty buzzed. By ten thirty, the bar became as packed as a gun show in Alabama. Someone unplugged the jukebox and a DJ started playing.
The DJ got on the microphone. “All right
“I don’t know. It’s never the same.”
“How many on average?”
“Something like twenty thousand.”
“See, Aunt Marianne? Twenty thousand people read it every day.”
“You know me, I don’t have time to check my e-mail. I’m just so busy, busy. You know who is also very popular?”
“Who?” Carrie asked, rolling her eyes slightly at me.
“My friend Sally’s daughter Amanda. She writes columns for our church bulletin. She is such a good writer. You should call her sometime and get some writing tips.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I said, not looking up from my magazine.
“Are you girls sure you don’t want to go antiquing with us?”
“Positive,” Carrie said.
As soon as Marianne was gone I said, “Thanks for trying.”
“No problem. Don’t let her get under your skin. It’s not worth it. She’ll be in the nuthouse in a few years anyway.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. Jake doesn’t understand why his mother makes me want to drink myself to death sometimes.” As soon as I said it, I got very sad again when I realized I’m going to spend the next nine months dealing with my mother-in-law without the aid of any intoxicants.
“No problem. I feel your pain. Marianne asked me last week after my photography exhibition why I take pictures of boring things like the sky and clouds instead of babies dressed as flowers like that Anne Geddes.”
“Nice. So what are we doing tonight? We should probably make plans so we don’t get roped into corn husking or something of the sort.”
“I already know what we’re doing tonight and it doesn’t involve any cranapple martinis this time,” Carrie said, and smiled at me. She flung her magazine on the ground and laid her head back.
“Oh, uh. Good. I mean, what?” I said, suddenly uncomfortable.
“We’re going to this bar about five minutes up the road. Patrick and I passed it on the way here. It’s practically in the middle of a cornfield. It’s one of those places without a name or address, just neon beer signs in the window.”
“Huh? You want to go to some weird bar?”
“Of course! It will be a blast. We can get drunk off of two-dollar beers with all of the alky locals.”
“Oh, um, yeah.” I shifted in my chair and thought,
How the hell am I going to get out of this one?
She opened her eyes, assuming my hesitation meant ambivalence. “Fine, stay here and sing campfire songs with the mosquitoes while the three of us hang out in the air-conditioning.”
“I’ll probably have to be designated driver since it’s my turn.” Yes! I found a loophole!
“Whatever. That’s fine. Too bad for you, though.”
“Yeah, gee, too bad,” I said. Looking back, I’m surprised she didn’t bust me right there with how horribly I delivered the line. I should’ve just snapped my fingers and added an “Aw shucks.”
But Carrie just looked down at her hand and said, “My ring is amazing.”
Sunday, May 13
We left to go out around nine last night. Despite my fears the entire place would stare and the music would stop with a loud
riiipppp
when we walked in the door, no one even looked up when we entered. In fact, there were only two other people there, and they looked too hammered to even lift their heads up.
“What do you want?” Jake asked.
“Diet Coke.”
He signaled to the bartender.
“A Diet Coke and a Bud Light bottle.”
The bartender shook his head and wiped the sweat dripping off his forehead. “No glass in here. Cans only.”
Jake looked at me and shrugged.
“A can is fine,” he said to the bartender.
“What are you guys getting?” I asked Carrie and Patrick.
“Three vodka shots please,” Carrie said to the bartender.
An hour later, they were all pretty buzzed. By ten thirty, the bar became as packed as a gun show in Alabama. Someone unplugged the jukebox and a DJ started playing.
The DJ got on the microphone. “All right
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