Goin' Out To Cally – Part 58, Twenty-One Wishes

I was pulled from my deep sleep as the Acura jostled over a large bump in the road. I looked over to see Sunday staring out her window at the passing landscape, her eyes looking past her current surroundings to somewhere else, somewhere far away. She seemed sad, but I wasn’t sure why. I could only imagine it was the result of this trip, but I was reluctant to ask.

After a stop at a rest area where we all cleaned up, changed clothes and where I washed my hair in the sink, we continued on. The car was so quiet during this phase of the trip, but the silence had weight, substance. We all gazed out of the windows imagining we were anywhere but here. The stress of the trip was even taking its toll on Tim and Beth. Their allegiance in our game of Survivor was still strong, but even they communicated only when necessary.

Sunday’s melancholy continued as the day wore on. We passed Lake Tahoe and were heading toward Denver, Colorado. Even though the thought of adding more depression to this suicidal trip was too painful to comprehend, I was growing concerned about Sunday and finally asked what was bothering her.

“Today… today is my birthday,” she said quietly.

“Oh…” I said with both surprise and sympathy.

“My twenty-first birthday…” she said even more quietly.

Tim and Beth overheard us. “Wow! Twenty-one!” Tim chimed in, sincerely trying to lighten the mood. “That’s great!” he continued.

I thought quietly to myself… how awful for her. There are so few birthdays in one’s life that have epic value. Any birthday between one and 10 is important, then when you’re 13 you become a teenager, when you’re 15 you can get a driver’s permit, when you’re 16 you can drive on your own, when you’re 17 you can see R-Rated movies, when you’re 18 you can vote and get drafted, and when you’re 21 you can drink legally. Plus, turning 21 is an official kickoff into the long term journey of adulthood. There’s no turning back.

So, we were all depressed and empathetic to Sunday’s dilemma of being forced to celebrate such a momentous occasion in the middle of Colorado in a car full of people she had grown to despise.

The only positive about the event was that it initiated conversation in the car again that did not revolve around the immediate history of this trip, for which we all now hated. Sunday smiled a bit when she mentioned that she and David were going to have a quiet celebration when she returned to Gainesville. It wasn’t much, but it was the only part of the day so far that had given Sunday hope.

Our experience in Eureka had taught us that traveling across the country without a AAA Trip Ticket was not a good idea, so Tim and Beth found a AAA location in a run down mall on the outskirts of Denver. As Sunday and I waited in the car, I heard a little “pop” and found my shirt suddenly dotted with ink. It appeared that a pen in the passenger door compartment exploded from the change of pressure in the mile high city.

Sunday and I looked around the car for unopened soda cans or any other potential explosions. Under the car seat I found one can of Pepsi that had been unopened. Neither the idea of being doused voluntarily by opening the can or involuntarily by it exploding on its own appealed to me, so I exited the car and threw it away.

Just as I was about to reenter the car, I spotted Tim and Beth exiting the mall. When they arrived at the Acura, they pulled out a small stuffed animal and gave it to Sunday.

“I know it’s not a lot,” Tim said, “but, Happy Birthday.”

Sunday was touched, not only from the gift, but more from the sentiment. It shined a little light on the dark cloud that was our trip to Cally. She hugged everyone and thanked them. I was both happy for Sunday and uncomfortable, as the change left in my pocket did not allow me to participate in Sunday’s gift.

But, the important thing was that Sunday was happy, if only for a moment. I’m sure if she were to blow out her twenty-one candles she would include twenty-one wishes of getting home.

Fortunately for her, and us, as we neared Illinois we all knew were only three stops away from returning home.