On the Road

by Rebecca Schoenkopf

Pasadena

Suparna is in the hospital, oh no! They do not know what is wrong with her, but she has had a hundred-and-three-degree fever for a week, and she has a terrible whooshing headache when she sits up. She looks like shit, and I visit her at Huntington Hospital, which looks like a resort, and bring her couscous salad from Trader Joe’s and a delicious refreshing mango probiotic smoothie, and am convinced she will be so happy to see real food and that I am the world’s best hospital visitor, but instead the sight of it makes her throw up into the bedpan I fetch for her, right as she is on the phone. She waves elegantly in the direction of the bedpan, and I think ... does she need a pen, or a piece of paper, to take down notes for her important conversation? But no, she needs to puke. My boyfriend Paul soundlessly leaves the room. Ha! Men are always squeamish. Women are right there with the bedpans, chatting steadfastly away whether the puker cares to listen or not.

Suparna was supposed to go to Flagstaff this weekend, to deliver a robotics field for use in the FIRST Tech Challenge’s Arizona regionals. Oh, no, Suparna is not going to Flagstaff. Suparna is going for a spinal tap instead.

Paul, back in the room, offers us to go to Flagstaff in her place. I am shocked by this—Paul is neither the spontaneous sort nor the type who loves to go on vacations with me—yet quickly concur. I love Flagstaff! We’ll bring Jimmy, who loves Flagstaff too! We’ll have a little weekend away, paid for by the organization, and we are both unemployed and should grab paid weekends away while we can. It’s not like the contest is in Phoenix.

Mid-City Los Angeles

Paul is fighting with me. He does not think I should have rented a minivan, even though Suparna told me to rent a car. “She was going to put the whole thing in her hatchback!” he argues.

“There is no way she was going to get that shit in her hatchback,” I explain. “Suparna is out of her head.”

“She’s an engineer! She would have figured it out!” he insists.

Engineers know matter can be neither created nor destroyed. Eventually she would have realized that shit was not fitting in a hatchback. Paul thinks I am spending too much of other people’s money, like I would EVER be profligate on someone else’s expense account. Then ...

“I think we should all pile into one room instead of Jimmy having his own,” Paul is fretting, because of my profligacy. The rooms are $50 each a night, to stay in one of Jimmy’s and my favorite places, the haunted Monte Vista Hotel. The rooms are painted gold, and there are pet spots in the carpets, and some of the gold paint is peeling, and there are random cherubs stuck to the ceiling haphazardly, and drunken college kids scream at each other till after two in the morning outside the windows, along with the dozen trains blowing their whistles all through the night, and the bathrooms are down the hall. “I just really think you should have gotten it okayed first!”

I explain calmly, again. “Suparna is getting a spinal tap right now. I am not calling her to check every little thing. I am making an executive decision as a grown-up lady that it is fine, and it’s what we are doing; we are driving 17 hours to bring a robot field to people, and Jimmy can have his own room.”

Paul can’t let it go, he doesn’t hear me when I explain. He mutters about control, as in I am in it and he doesn’t like that, and about how the organization will be paying for meals for three people instead of two. He is really freaked out about this. I calmly pack a picnic basket for the ride like I always do. Jimmy and I have roadtripped a lot. Strawberries, blueberries, mango, tasteless ham-and-herb pita sandwiches, pears and apples, almonds, cookies, fruit punch, and coffee. Honestly, Paul darling, please do shut up.

Needles

Paul has gotten a speeding ticket. In what amounts to three full months on the road with my son, I have always driven 90 and never seen a cop. If you thought Paul was in a bad mood before, wait till you see him with his body entirely turned away from the other occupants of the car, gazing longingly at Needles, California, like it is not the world’s worst shithole. I let him—there are plenty of times when I am on the rag, and Paul is always nice about it. Now it is his turn to menstruate. I ask him what’s his favorite place in the country. “California,” he answers sullenly. Where specifically? “My city,” he mutters. I talk about sitting in a chair in the river at Big Sur, looking up at the sky over the mountain. Jimmy talks about the Big Island of Hawaii, and Maine, where he swam in a beautiful lake and we went to the drive-in, and Joe’s Pond, Vermont, where we had the sweetest little yellow cabin that smelled like cat pee. Paul is trying not to go crazy at our chirpy perkiness. We are trying not to let his Debbie Downer act ruin everyone’s time. Jimmy and I love the minivan like crazy. We want a minivan, we lust for it! It is like a spaceship! With cup holders and space! Paul still thinks we should have rented a hatchback.

Flagstaff

And we are here in Flagstaff’s beautiful historic downtown; we have taken the robotics field to Coconino High School, and, with a lot of help from a dude, set it up. Power tools and allen wrenches are involved. Jimmy and I are thrilled to be back at the Monte V. Paul looks at the cherubs haphazardly stuck to the ceiling and says, “Those cherubs are ugly.” I tell Paul he is probably not invited on any more of Jimmy’s and my roadtrips, and while we’re at it, I’m not sure he’s my boyfriend anymore. Jesus!

Paul responds very well to threats and ill treatment, and all of a sudden, sees how awesome the Monte Vista is. Also, he likes the cherubs now too. At one in the morning, I wake him up and tell him I am lonely. He rubs my back until we fall asleep.

Sedona

There is a little tourist strip at the north part of town, full of ugly strip malls of overpriced Mexican food and stores selling earrings, and we spend $40 on lunch there before deciding this can’t possibly be it and we are going to find the rest of the town. We have four hours before we have to get back to Coconino and break down not only our robot field but theirs, which we will be borrowing and bringing back to L.A. We accidentally turn onto Dry Creek Road, which is the correct road to turn on if you want to find The Loop, even though it doesn’t say it is The Loop, which is exactly what we were trying to do. I have very good roadtripping skills. People, believe!

We hike, maybe two miles, I in my black high-heeled fake-suede Payless boots, on a red-dust trail surrounded by red rocks and green piney mountains. My boots don’t even get ruined, but it’s embarrassing whenever we meet someone on the way. Paul is actually one hundred percent happy now, and Jimmy runs ahead, hiking and not even bored.

Flagstaff

We head back the 23 twisty beautiful Oak Creek miles (Rte. 89A) to Flagstaff, to the high school, and pack everybody’s robot fields all the way to the roof of the minivan. I engineer it, like an engineer, knowing just how much matter will fit without being created or destroyed. We drink beers in the mellower of the Monte Vista’s two bars (ours is a yuppie wine bar; the other is a college kid karaokethon). Jimmy drinks a root beer. We eat Thai food and have a nice time. Paul understands about roadtrips now—that even the things you hate make for a nice adrenalin rush (of hatred!) and for good stories later on. On our way back through Needles, he will admit that it is not beautiful, and we will laugh and tell him he’s going to retire there, and he better brush up on his meth lab skills right quick.

Claremont, San Marino, and Highland Park

I am at Claremont by 8 am Monday to return the robotics field we borrowed from the Webb Schools to take with us to Flagstaff. Then I am at San Marino High School by 9 to unload the robotics field we borrowed from Flagstaff to bring to L.A. I am feeling very responsible and capable and like maybe I should get a job trucking things. Hey! Mama’s got a skill! By 9:30 I am at Suparna’s in Highland Park, to make her (and me) a cup of tea and to hug hello her mother, who has flown in to take care of her. Oh, I am so glad her mother is here. They still don’t know what’s wrong with her, but her mother will cook her food until she is ready to eat it. Also, she will send some home with me. Why, yes, Mrs. Mukherjee, I would love to take this tub of tuna chops! And you know those rosewater sweets you sent to Suparna? Next time, please feel free to send some extras for me! Her whole face lights up as she agrees.

Tomorrow, Saturday, Dec. 12

ROBOTS! San Marino High School gym, 10 am to 4:30 pm Yeah, you heard me: ROBOTS! Coopertiting! It’s really something you should see.

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