“GPS says 10 hours 23 minutes.”
“Okay, let’s get on the road,” I mumble from inside my purse. “Let’s go through Tim’s drive-thru to grab breakfast.”
“Which one?” Sasha asks.
“The one on King St. by Ange’s house,” I snip as if she should know, as if there couldn’t be any other Tim’s on the way to the highway. “Sorry. I’m stressed. Let’s go.”
“I’m not sure where that is. I’ll follow you,” Sasha decides and heads out the door with an armload of hanging clothes, the last of her belongings going back to school.
It was early and the roads were empty. No line at the drive through.
I don’t think I want a combo. I haven’t liked the hash browns recently. Too greasy.
But I’m hungry. Who knows when we will stop for lunch? I could just get two breakfast sandwiches.
I roll my window down.
“Two beyond-sausage breakfast sandwiches please,” I order. “With egg and cheese. On a biscuit.”
Should I quickly text Sasha that I’m getting two breakfast sandwiches? Will she be mad that I got two? She would probably want two if she knew that’s what I was ordering. But there really isn’t time to text her.
I’ll just save half of my second one. She can eat it when we stop at the border.
I pull forward to pay.
What? Did I just hear Mom order two breakfast sandwiches? She’s never done that.
Wait, is she getting a hash brown and two sandwiches?
Maybe I should get two sandwiches? Will that be too much food?
No, I want two sandwiches.
Will the drive-thru attendant think it’s weird if I order two sandwiches right after mom orders two sandwiches? I mean, who orders two sandwiches? And what are the chances it would be two cars in a row? What would they think?
“One beyond sausage breakfast sandwich and a hash brown please,” I order before pulling forward.
Mom’s waiting for me around the corner, taking a bite out of her breakfast sandwich.
She takes off before I can even get mine out of the bag.
Here we go. It is so small.
I should have gotten two.
I’m going to starve before we stop at the border.
How can these sandwiches be so good? I’ll be done this first one before we get on the highway.
I’m still hungry.
I should save the second sandwich for when we stop. Maybe Sasha will want some. I’ll hide it under my purse so I’m not tempted.
Mom just balled up her sandwich wrapper. She’s already done? We aren’t even on the highway yet. I’ve barely had a bite of mine.
Is she going to eat the second one?
It doesn’t look like it. Good. Hopefully she is saving it for us to share.
I should have gotten two breakfast sandwiches.
That sandwich smells so friggin’ good. We still have an hour to the border and I am soooooo hungry. Why didn’t I bring a banana?
I bet the cheese is perfectly melted on that sandwich.
I reach under my purse and feel the wrapper is still warm.
It will be cold by the time we stop at the border. I should just eat it now and enjoy it.
The melted cheese makes the wrapper impossible to unfold with one hand. I use my teeth to pull the paper off the sandwich and take a bite. Hmmmm….. still warm.
I check in the rearview mirror. Sasha is several cars behind me. There is no way she can see me eating.
This is a mess. I use my teeth to pull down the paper, exposing the juicy faux-sausage, egg, and buttery biscuit. Melted cheese cover my lips.
Before I know it, I am at the bottom of the wrapper. There is just one mouthful of luscious yumminess left. Unable to bite it, I drop the wrapper into my lap. I reach into the bottom and pop it into my mouth.
I didn’t save any for Sasha.
It’s okay. I’m sure she had enough to eat. She wouldn’t want to eat half a cold breakfast sandwich anyhow.
Mom is still in front and we are almost at the border.
Miraculously I haven’t fainted from hunger. Yet.
I can’t wait for that breakfast sandwich. I’m sure mom saved me some. Right?
Yes, of course she would save me some. She wouldn’t have gotten two just for herself.
Bathroom break at the border. Sasha pulls in and parks alongside me.
I gather the breakfast sandwich wrappers in the Tim’s bag to throw away.
Should I mention that I had two breakfast sandwiches? If I don’t say anything, am I lying? Keeping a secret? It seems sneaky.
But I didn’t save her any. What if she is super hungry and gets mad I didn’t save her some?
How can my brain spend so much time thinking about a stupid breakfast sandwich? It isn’t a big deal. We each got our own breakfast and we don’t even need to talk about it. Just let it be.
Should I ask mom about the breakfast sandwich or wait for her to say something?
If I ask her, she might think I was spying on her.
And it’s not mom’s job to buy me extra breakfast.
I’m old enough to order my own breakfast and if I didn’t get enough, to suffer the consequences.
I should have gotten two sandwiches.
I really hope mom saved me some of hers.
I’ll see if she says anything.
I won’t ask her.
“Hi sweet Sasha,” I smile. “How’s the drive going?”
“Good so far. I’m glad we left early,” Sasha replies as we walk into the duty free building. I throw my Tim’s bag into the recycling bin. Sasha does the same.
“Did you have enough breakfast?” I ask.
“Yes, it was fine. Thanks.”
“Good. Me too,” I agree. “Should we stop at the first rest area over the border for lunch?”
“Sure. That sounds good,” Sasha agrees.
She reaches out and we walk hand-in-hand to the washroom. Me and Minnie-me.