Kate said nothing.
“And only twenty two dollars and a couple nickels. You’re a McDolen, you have lots of money. Where’s your bank?”
“Emporia.”
“We can’t go back to Emporia. You got a ATM card here, you can get money anywhere, right? You can get it in Saudi Arabia, even, I’ve seen it on T.V.”
“ATM,” said Mistie in the back. Her voice rose like the little Arab child in the commercial who lead the stranded tourists across the desert to salvation. “ATM, ATM!” Then she went quiet again.
“What’s the next town?”
“I don’t know,” said Kate. “Roanoke Rapids, maybe.”
“How far’s that?”
“I don’t know.”
“You better know.”
“I’m not even sure it’s on this road. I’ve only driven there by way of Interstate 95. Maybe it’s not even on this road.”
“Teachers are supposed to know stuff,” said the girl. “What the hell’s wrong with you? Oh, yeah, I remember. You’re a cunt. A smelly old cunt. Turn on those headlights before we run into something.”
Kate turned on the lights.
They took a long curve, and then a slope downhill, and there was an outcropping of houses and a gas station and the spires of several churches poking up through the trees. Street lights sprinkled the air like fireflies. A green sign on the right side of the road read “Gumberry.”
“Bet they have a bank,” said the girl. “Find their bank.”
“They might not –” began Kate but then clamped her mouth closed. Maybe they would have a bank. Maybe the bank would even have an ATM machine. Kate could withdraw all the cash she had on hand and bribe the girl to let her go with Mistie. Hell, she could drive the girl to Raleigh, buy her a plane ticket to Texas and give her a thousand dollars spending cash on top of that. Then she and Mistie would turn again to the north, wounded and tired but back on track.
Kate’s heart clenched in hope. Please, a bank in Gumberry.
They found no bank in Gumberry. They passed through the center of town in an eye’s blink, and then were back in the country with the pines and the gray sky and the darkness.
Just one little bank. I can get out of all this mess with one little bank. Kate pressed on the gas; the car picked up speed. The girl didn’t seem to mind. Mistie, her mouth full of Toosties, said something that sounded like “Mama had a lady and it head hopped off.”
A few minutes later, Garysburg, the size of Gumberry. Nearly identical houses, churches — What do these people do, barter? — street lights. A few antique shops. No bank. Kate thought. Her heart had picked up a rhythm with the humming of the tires. She was on the last leg of the race, and if she crossed the finish line, things would turn out just fine.
Dark countryside. Barns, trees. A sign for Weldon, three miles. Beneath that a sign for Interstate 95, four miles. Where there was a town and an on-ramp, there would be banks. Travelers needed banks. They never took enough money with them on vacation. Some smart bank would have set up operations in Weldon, for certain.
“Mistie,” Kate ventured. “You okay back there?”
A sneeze. Nothing more.
A straight stretch, the sky lighter up ahead promising civilization of some sort. Kate realized her hands were clenched so tightly around the wheel they were numb. The hose at her knees chafed, and she thought, Just a few more minutes and the tide will turn. I’m an adult. I’m a teacher. I have the power.
The car passed the town limits of Weldon. The houses, a small school, grocery store, Methodist Church, Baptist Church, blinker light, yellow-yellow-yellow, indicating the center of town. A bank.
Kate slammed on the brake. The girl growled, “Watch it! Damn!”
There was a green, glowing “Honor” sign over top of one that read, “Bank of North Carolina.”
Excellent, yes! Money will talk! Thank you God, thank you.
Kate’s fingers drained numb to cold to hot. She turned into the near-empty parking lot. A single car was in the drive-through, the driver punching numbers. She held a respectable distance to wait her turn. A sign on the brick bank wall read, “Have you opened next year’s Christmas Club? See inside for details!”
“Listen,” Kate began. Her words were slow on her tongue and muffled in her ear, like a mosquito embedded in the wax, humming in a low-pitched key. The heat crawled from her fingers to hands, hands to arms, arms to chest. Her teeth buzzed. Her loose molar popped and clicked. She felt she was outside herself, not herself, watching herself calmly work her way out of a hideous circumstance. “I’ve been thinking. You need to get to Texas, for some reason.”
“Friends,” said the girl, with a tone of pride. “I got lots of friends down there. I bet I got a lot more friends than you, teacher.”
“You need to get to Texas, I need to go home. I think I have enough money in my account to get you a plane ticket from Raleigh to wherever you want to go in Texas. Dallas? Austin? El Paso?”
The girl rubbed her nose. She didn’t respond. That was okay, she hadn’t told Kate to shut up yet. She wasn’t waving the gun.
“Wherever, I don’t need to know,” said Kate. “I’ll take out every penny I have in the account.”
“No fucking pennies.”
“No, well, it comes out in bills, not coins. I’ll withdraw everything I have and give it to you. We’ll drive to Rocky Mount, about another forty-five minutes.”
The car at the ATM machine roared away, spewing blue exhaust. Kate held her foot on the brake; the Volvo purred.
“Forty-five minutes, tops. There is an airport. You can get a plane ticket and be in Texas in a matter of hours. You’ll even have enough to catch a cab from the airport once you get there.”
The girl sniffed, looked back at Mistie, then at Kate. Her expression was impossible to read in the darkness of the car’s interior.
“That’s the most reasonable, don’t you think?”
“You’ll tell on me. You’re a teacher. Teachers tell.”
“I won’t.”
“You told already on me. You don’t remember.”
“I don’t remember but I’m sorry if I did.”
“You did.”
“Okay, I’m sorry I did.”
“Just get the money.”
Kate rolled the car to the ATM machine. She held out her hand to the girl. “I need my card. It’s the blue and gold one on the floor by the deviled ham.”
The girl gave her the card. Kate pressed the tab on the arm rest; the window eased down. “Do we have a deal, then? I don’t even know your name. That’s one in your favor, I guess, plus I don’t break promises.”
The girl took a long breath. One of her feet slipped down off the dash and onto the floor amid the scattered snacks. The foot on the dash began shaking. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe we can do it that way.”
Kate turned to the window. She didn’t want the girl to see the sheer relief and hope on her face. Mistie, I did it. Mrs. McDolen pulled us through. We’ll get to Canada, you just wait and see. It’s beautiful up there. Places to run and play. People who will love you and protect you.
She pushed her card into the slot. The shot pushed it back out again.
“Whoa,” she said.
Card in. Card out. She leaned out of the window to read the small print on the screen. “We’re Sorry. This machine is temporarily out of order.”