Chapter 4: Road Trip
1324 Words
Eleanor's POV
“Eleanor." Pauly's voice rings clearly through my door, followed by a soft knock. “I'm heading down to the car. I'll see you down there?"
“Yeah," I call out, pausing momentarily from stuffing the last of my toiletries into the bag at my feet. “I'll be right down."
I waited for the sounds of his heavy booted feet to fade down the hallway before I let the breath I was holding out. Instead of sleeping the night before, I found myself tossing and turning. My mind was an echo chamber of self-doubt.
My mother's voice was the narrator of my insecurities. The main focus of the barrage of my mind's attack was picking apart the true reason why Paul wanted me to accompany him to Philadelphia.
Though Paul was a man of his word, my mother had done her darndest to weave in a minefield of persistent doubts. Its failsafe design was proven time and time again. She knew that, regardless of the character of the man I would encounter, my inherit instincts would always make me want to return to her.
So many times in the night I reached for my phone, my fingers hovering over her name. Though it had been changed from Antionette Hart to She Who Shall Not Be Named.
Before I could gather some sort of courage, my exhausted mind gave in to the temptation to hear my mother's voice. Familiar disappointment settled around me like a worn blanket when she didn't even say hello. But launched immediately into critique. Her complaint. My choice of dress during the press conference I had done regarding the trial.
I opened a door last night by calling my mother. The trial and my involvement with it had garnered an unneeded amount of attention. Attention Antionette Hart loved. It was no surprise, her cashing in on being the mother to the lawyer in one of the highest covered trials in Chicago.
My mother had a plan. A plan that she spent most of the phone call informing me of. She insisted that I had nothing to worry about. She was handling everything. Old fear threatened to swallow me whole. The entire reason I needed my mother washed away completely. I listened with no choice to her planning out the next ten years of my life.
The little girl inside of me might not have heard the words that she was searching for. But the grown woman heard exactly the reason in why she needed to leave Chicago. If being with Paul wasn't temptation enough, avoiding my mother was the cherry on top.
Gathering up the last of my belongings for the trip, I weighed the option of leaving my phone behind. Though, that it wasn't actually an option considering that my contacts for the Firm in Philly were in the phone. I hastily snatched it off of the nightstand. I powered it up before taking one more mental browse through my list of things to take with me.
Satisfied I hadn't forgotten anything, I rushed out of the bedroom that had quickly become a safe haven for me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
My gut sank when She Who Shall Not Be Named popped up on my screen when I finally took the phone out of my back pocket. Text messages funneled through my missed alerts.
The threat is the same, though the tactic changed from one message to the other. Overall, my mother demanded that I meet her today to start working on the plan she so eloquently dictated to me.
“Eleanor?" Paul's deep voice snaps me out of the downward spiral that panic was threatening to take me on. “I was just getting ready to head back up and see if you needed help with your bags?"
“Sorry. I'm a little slow-moving this morning," I apologize.
Paul reaches his thickly-corded arm to stop the elevator door from closing. Rushing out of the elevator my bag hangs awkwardly on my shoulder. I feel it pull as Paul gently tugs it off my arm, taking the rolling suitcase from my hand as well.
I offer him a soft smile as I follow his head out of the narrow apartment hallway. The inviting bright and sunny morning washes away the cobwebs of lingering night.
I can't help myself as I watch the soft grey gently worn long-sleeve shirt pull across Paul's back, and I marvel at his easy strength as he reaches the car we will be in for the next few days. The way his jeans were practically made for him, as he bends forward setting my bags on the ground. There's hesitation in the way he moves.
I force my eyes away from him, completely aware that my mind is fixating on Paul. Ogling him is a way of distracting myself from all the butterflies in my stomach: nerves that I lie to myself are because I'll be in such close proximity to this ridiculously handsome, patient man, not because I'm undeniably attracted to him.
I'm completely missing that he was speaking to me.
“I'm sorry. I was distracted. What did you say?" I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Paul's smile fades as he closes the trunk. Leaning his hip against the car he pins me with his signature stare, the one that lets you know he's about to ask you a question and he wants you to tell him the complete truth.
“It's not too late." Paul simply states.
“No, it's still pretty early," I respond offering him a coy smile, hoping for a crack in his serious face.
“If you changed your mind in the middle of the night, I would completely understand, Eleanor. Nothing would change." Paul's face remains serious as his blue eyes concentrate on my face.
“My mind hasn't changed Paul. I… It just was a… I didn't get much sleep last night. But I promise I haven't changed my mind." I insist.
After my words process, his shoulders relax. Paul's face finds a sense of relief. True to his word, he would have been okay if I would have changed my mind. I believed him when he said nothing would have changed between us. But just as there were nerves for me facing this trip to Philly, they were nothing in comparison to the nerves he must be facing returning home.
“Shall we then?" Paul nods to the car.
“Where'd this come from?" I ask referring to the car.
“It's mine… Well. It comes with the job I guess." Paul replied shifting the car into drive.
“A promotion, and perks. Look at you."
Paul scoffs at my retort pulling into the main road.
We slip quickly into an easy, comfortable silence, watching the familiar sights of Chicago pass by our windows. Before any time could really be counted, we were stopped at a red light,I highway in front of us. Our lives for the last few months, our friends, behind.
“Are you ready for this?" Paul breaks the silence, looking from the road to me.
“I've actually never done this before," I admit as the light turns green.
“This? You mean the road trip?" Paul asks as the car picks up speed.
“All of it. The road trips. Being alone in a car with a boy." I nervously laugh. “Actually, I've never been on a trip where my mother wasn't with me. Fun fact. I don't even have my driver's license. According to my mother, it wasn't a necessity for women to drive. In her words, that's what men are for."
“So, who drove you to school? Work?" Paul asks confusion filling his voice.
“One of my mother's boyfriends or fiancés would or their drivers," I reply feeling embarrassed instantly for bringing it up.
“Fiancés. As in plural?"
- Writer
