Free Brine by Kate; Smith

want, you can change when we stop.”
    Diane dialed the number to a pizza place. She held the phone to her ear, tilting the receiver away from her mouth.
    “Sugar, actually, you need some more—how should I say this— feminine looking clothes.” She quickly put the phone back to her mouth. “Yes, I’ll hold.” Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she whispered, “We’ll make sure to find us a shopping mall along the way, honey.”
    Ishmael looked down at her clothes: a pleated pair of jeans from another decade and a hippie linen shirt that Allen had left in the dryer and shrunk. The sleeves of the shirt barely covered her elbows and, although she had never been much for ironing, she had to admit this shirt was in desperate need of a pressing.
    “You look fine, Ish,” he said. “Don’t listen to her.”
    Diane pulled a map out of her bag and handed her phone to Ishmael.
    “Order whatever you want, darling. I’m paying. I just hate being on hold.”
    Ishmael took the phone, and the whine of the hold music drifted into her ear.
    “Just don’t give them your name,” Allen said to Ishmael. “Give them mine or Diane’s.”
    “Good thinking. Name like yours doesn’t exactly blend in,” Diane said, looking at the map. “There’s nothing I like about Texas. So let’s take the 8 out east and move up north through Phoenix to pick up the 17 north, Then make our way to the 40 and head east. Where are we stopping tonight anyway?” Diane flipped the map over. “Albuquerque. Amarillo. Memphis. Birmingham. I-26. Once we get to Charleston, I can surely pick my way to the Butler Island Bridge.”
    “You always carry a map of the US in your purse?” Allen asked.
    “Oh, you wouldn’t believe the preparedness of this little Girl Scout,” Diane said. “You never know when adventure’s going to call.”
    The man came back on the other end of the line; Ishmael began to order.
    “I told you she’d want anchovies,” Diane said. “Didn’t I say that?”
    Ishmael hung up, passing the phone back to Diane.
    “Look, Diane, once we pawn this ring, we’re not exactly going to be on the sly anymore,” Allen said. “I’m going to make a few phone calls when we stop. A guy I used to be in business with, his cousin works at the pawnshop. I’m sure he’ll take the ring no questions asked, but—”
    “So we’re moving into sneak mode,” Diane said with a wink. “Gotcha.”
    Diane put a stick of gum in her mouth. Ishmael watched her out of the corner of her eye as Diane folded the stick perfectly on her tongue. Just like a commercial.
    “I’m going to rest up for a bit. Whoo-wee. All this coming back from the dead and mermaid excitement’s got this little lady plum pooped.”
    “You’re putting gum in your mouth right before you fall asleep?” Allen asked.
    “Damn, Allen, you sound like a granny! Does he talk to you like this, Ishmael?”
    All the time when we were dating , Ishmael thought.
    Diane started fluffing a sweatshirt of Allen’s she’d found in the back; she pressed it against the window and leaned on it.
    “Don’t you worry your handsome little head,” she said, as she adjusted her seat belt and closed her eyes. “Listen to whatever music you want. I can sleep through a hurricane. Anywhere and through anything, that’s what my Harry always says.”
    Stars had just begun to appear, white glimmers scattered across the purple-grey sky. The truck bumped along in silence as Diane dozed off. Suddenly, Allen reached across and took Ishmael’s hand, kissing the inside of her wrist. She jerked her hand away.
    “What?” Allen whispered. “I was holding your hand less than twenty minutes ago.”
    “I was cold.”
    “Well, that kiss you gave me on the boat wasn’t cold.”
    “What? The peck on the cheek?”
    Ishmael saw Diane slitting her eyes so that she could catch a visual of the scene.
    “Don’t worry. I’m still asleep. Not listening,” Diane said. “That’s what it was to you?”