Ashley Elston - 10 Blind Dates

I nod and try to focus on the road. This is going to be the longest night of my life.

We’re only on the road for about ten minutes before Charlie starts complaining. “It’s too hot back here, and this song sucks.”

Olivia rolls her eyes and stretches the aux cord to the backseat. “Play whatever you want.”

Charlie plugs it into his phone, and within a few minutes, some old, twangy country song blares from the speakers. The rest of us groan.

“What?” Charlie asks. “This is a great song.”

“No, it’s not,” I say. “You have terrible taste in music.”

“You do,” Olivia says to Charlie. “You love those Lifetime movie songs.”

“What does that even mean?” Charlie asks.

Olivia holds out her hand for his phone and he passes it to her. “The ones that could be the soundtrack for any Lifetime movie.” She takes a minute or so; then a familiar tune fills the air. Olivia talks over the music. “See, this one is a rags-to-riches story with a hint of prostitution. It’s about a poor mom and two daughters. One daughter is too young and sick, but the oldest is just old enough and she’s pretty. So the mom thinks the only way for her to get out of the poorhouse is to put on a red dress and find a sugar daddy. Poor Fancy.”

Wes and I crack up.

She skips to another song before the first one finishes. I recognize it the second I hear the words.

“And this one is a typical survivalist story. If the world ends, all of the city folk are toast, but if you’re a country boy, you’ll survive. Not only will you be able to put food on the table but you’ll use your manners while doing it.”

She skips to another one. “And this one is a typical learn-from-your-elders bit. I mean, it’s literally about an old gambler teaching a young gambler how to be a better gambler. There’s smoking. And drinking. And they’re on a train.”

Now she’s even got Charlie laughing.

“Okay, okay,” he says. “But they’re still really good songs.”

We spend the next thirty miles going through Charlie’s playlist and trying to match overused tropes to each one.

Charlie finally unplugs his phone from the cord. “You think you’ve ruined those for me, but you haven’t.”

Olivia flips on the radio, and we’re back to Christmas tunes.

“What’s up with Uncle Ronnie?” I ask. “He basically ran out of the kitchen when Nonna brought in the cannoli.”

Olivia lets out a laugh. “He refuses to eat them.”

“Why?” I ask. “That’s like the best thing she makes.”

“Because of us,” Wes says. I glance at him quickly in the mirror, and he’s watching me right back.

“Us? What did we do to him?” I ask.

Charlie leans forward and answers. “Remember when we found that powder in Papa’s medicine cabinet that makes you go to the bathroom?”

“Oh my God!” I squeal.

“Yep,” Wes says.

Freshman year, we were trying to get the Evil Joes back for something — I can’t even remember what it was — so we thought it would be hilarious to put some of that powder in their drinks. Except we poured it in Uncle Ronnie’s glass instead. And because we’re poor communicators, we all took a turn adding it to his drink, not realizing the other three had done the same.

Needless to say, Uncle Ronnie was stuck in the bathroom for a while.

“But that was only one time! Three years ago! And the cannoli had nothing to do with it.”

“But, remember, she made a huge batch that night. And he stuffed himself with them. That’s what he thinks did it,” Olivia says.

“Oh, that’s terrible.” But I can’t help the giggle that escapes.

Charlie shrugs. “More for us.”

Wes leans forward. “Charlie and I have been trying to get him to eat one for the past year, but every time we mention it, he turns green.” Wes turns to Charlie and says, “Remember when we bet him the Saints would beat the Cowboys and when we won, we told him he had to eat a cannoli?”

“Yes, and he made Aunt Patrice eat it for him.”

Wes’s eyes meet mine in the mirror. “We have been trying to get him over it, but the guy won’t budge.”

“He was in the bathroom for a really long time,” Olivia adds.

“Speaking of pranks,” I say. “Anyone ready to fess up about who faked that love note to me from Ben from down the street?”

“Olivia!” Charlie shouts.

“Charlie!” Wes shouts.

“Wes!” Olivia shouts.

“Someday, I’m going to figure out who did it!” I say with a grin. “Y’all knew I had a crush on him. And I made a fool of myself when I rode my bike to his house with a platter full of those Key-lime-pie cookies to tell him how much I loved his letters.” I had helped Nonna make some cookies for Ben’s mom’s book club the week before, so when I got a letter saying how much he loved those cookies, I made a double batch and raced them to his house. “He looked like a deer in headlights!”

They’re all cracking up.

“That’s okay. I’ll figure it out and get you back.”

“Since you’ll have to hang out with us to get us back, I welcome your revenge,” Charlie says, then begs us to change the station.

“Olivia, we’re here.”

I’m nudging her awake and she keeps pushing my hand away from her. She fell asleep about an hour and a half ago, about thirty minutes after Charlie and thirty minutes before Wes. She pries her eyes open and tries to figure out where we are.

“Sophie, why didn’t you wake me up?” she asks in a groggy voice.

I pull into a spot near the emergency room entrance. “You weren’t out that long,” I answer.

Charlie stretches in the backseat and yawns loud enough to wake Wes. It’s still dark out, but there’s a glow coming from the dash that lights up the interior.

“Sorry,” Olivia mumbles. “Hate you were up all by yourself.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be. Glad everyone got some sleep.”

Olivia twists around from the front seat. She points out of her window and says, “Guys, looks like there’s a Waffle House down the street. Want to get something to eat while we wait on Sophie?”

They nod, still disoriented. I get out of the car and Olivia comes around to slip into the driver’s seat.

“I’ll be right here in one hour,” I say through Olivia’s open door.

She’s busy readjusting the driver’s seat. “Call us if you need us to get you earlier,” she says.

Wes rolls down his window. “Are you good to go in on your own?”

“Yeah. Get me some food, please?”

“Of course. What do you want?”

“Anything. I don’t care. And some coffee.”

Olivia hands me the bag of wrapped gifts we bought earlier. “Don’t forget these.”

“Thanks,” I say, then walk toward the entrance. I stop when I remember to tell Wes to get some creamer for my coffee, and I pull out my phone. They’ve just driven away when I tap on his name.

I can hear the air horn from here, even with their windows up. Olivia hits the brakes so hard the tires screech on the pavement.

Oh God. I guess he forgot to change my ringtone.

“I forgot to change your ringtone,” he says when he answers.

I can’t stop laughing. “Creamer…too…please,” I manage to get out.

“No problem. Anything else?”

“That’s it.” I hang up.

Charlie rolls down the window and sticks his head out. “We’re up now! Thanks!”

“Sorry!” I yell across the parking lot as they drive away.

It’s just after midnight, and there are only a few people in the waiting room. It’s really depressing thinking about spending Christmas in the hospital. The woman sitting at the check-in desk looks like she’d rather be anywhere else in the world than right here.

“What’s your emergency?” she asks in a bored voice.

“I’m just trying to see my sister. She had a baby today. What’s the best way to get to the fourth floor?”

She points me in the direction of the elevator, then gives a complicated list of turns. When I get off of the elevator, there are two signs. One points in the direction of Margot’s room and the other points in the direction of the NICU. I don’t hesitate.

Two turns later, I’m standing in front of a giant plate-glass window, staring at several plastic tubs just like the one Anna was in for the picture.

A nurse notices me. She walks to the window and says, “Who are you looking for?” Her voice is muffled through the glass.

“Anna Sophia Graff!”

She nods, then rolls one of the plastic tubs close to the window, and I get my first look at her. The tubes and wires are all still there, but they fall away when I stare at the beautiful little face. She’s tiny, even tinier than I expected.

“Is she okay?” I ask loudly.

The nurse gives me a small nod before walking away to tend to one of the other babies.

The only movement Anna makes is the rise and fall of her little chest. I don’t know how long I lean my head against that glass wall and stare at her. After a while, I realize my forehead has gone numb.

“Bye, sweet baby. I’ll be back to see you soon,” I whisper, and blow her a kiss.

I backtrack the way I came, then turn left toward the other hall.

Margot’s door is closed, and I hesitate before pushing it open. It’s the moment of truth. Hopefully my parents stuck with the plan to stay at Margot’s.

As quietly as possible, I slip into the dark room. Brad is asleep upright in a chair, a blanket thrown over him, and he’s snoring loudly. Margot is in the bed, buried under a mountain of covers. There are several machines surrounding her, numbers lighting up the area.

I tiptoe to the bed and whisper, “Margot?”