Exit 124

“Should we get dinner?” I texted.

“Sure. But let’s see how late it is once we get there, 8:30 is already a little late for a week night, and we both still have to drive back,” you responded.

“Okay. If not, I’ll take you to dinner when I pick the dogs up, as a thank you. It won’t be as late that Monday when I come to get them. I can show you pictures from our trip.” I texted again.

“Okay, sounds good, if we have time,” you wrote back.

Weeks before, we went back and forth about whether you would come to Charlotte to watch the dogs or if we would bring them to Raleigh for the week. Zach and I were getting our hardwood floors redone while in Italy and I was worried about the fumes from the staining process. I didn’t think it was safe for you and the dogs to be breathing such strong fumes in while sleeping or at the house in general. You assured me you had been in many a house during the wood staining process and weren’t worried about it. “I built the house you grew up in and your grandfather owned a lumber company, for God’s sake. It will be fine,” you said. I still wasn’t comfortable with it. I pushed you, saying, “I refuse to come home to a dead dad or dead dogs.” You thought this was funny and that I was being ridiculous. I suggested you watch the dogs in Charlotte at the beginning of the week as they laid the floorboards, then take the dogs to Raleigh for the back half of the week during the staining and drying process. You liked this idea since you had some clients in Charlotte, so could get a little bit of business done, while still addressing my concerns. It seemed like a good compromise. Then you called me about a week out and said, “Aaah screw it, I’ll just bring them to Raleigh for the week so I’m not going back and forth so much. They will have more space to run around here in the yard anyway.” This made me laugh. I think I just wore you down. I’m sure it isn’t easy for a father to say no to his daughter, even if she’s 34 years old.

We agreed to meet to exchange the dogs halfway between Raleigh and Charlotte in a random Wendy’s parking lot. It was the night before Zach and I left for our trip. They were resurfacing the Wendy’s parking lot, so we had to meet in some parking spots nearby. It was just slightly past 8:30 when we both pulled up. I called on the way to let you know I stopped at Chic-fil-A because I was so hungry and wasn’t sure I could wait. You said, “No worries, it’s getting late anyway, I will grab something on the way too then.” The section of the lot we were in was completely empty, but I still parked right next to your car. I looked over as I pulled up and we made faces at each other through the car windows. Yours was of course your signature move of sticking your tongue out, which has always been funny to me because it’s so stubby.

We stood there for maybe 20 minutes letting the dogs sniff around, you talking about work, me talking about our Italy trip and what we planned to do. You told me to make sure we took the chairlift up to Anacapri for the amazing views. I promised you we would and asked more details about your recent trip to New York to visit Kelsey. My calf was bothering me at the time and I kept stretching it on the curb as we talked.

Monday came, but that dinner never did. I returned home to exactly what I was afraid of, regardless of those stupid floors.

If we have time, you said…

I will forever regret that Chic-fil-A stop.