He drove into Augusta with the kids and Gwen and got gas at the first service station along the main street. After he filled up, he said “Well, people, I’m going to use the restroom here and pay for the gas. Anyone else have to go?” and they all said they could wait. He went inside, paid, peed, and bought a New York Times—something to read with his drink later — and a bag of cornnuts for himself and a bag of roasted sunflower seeds for Gwen. Back in the van, before he started up, he said “You kids must be hungry by now. Pizza okay? It’s quick and it’s just a few stores down.” He parked in front of the pizza shop he saw from the service station, gave them money for pizza and chips or a cookie and a drink—“Even soda, if that’s what you want,” and they went inside. “Oh, I forgot; I wasn’t thinking,” he said to Gwen. “You want something besides the sunflower seeds? I doubt you’d go for the pizza here, but you do like the veggie subs at Subway. There’s one on this side of the street on the way out of town.” She said “I’m happy. Maybe you want one. You like them too,” and he said “I do, but I’ll wait till Kennebunkport till I get anything. And those things can get messy when you’re driving.” “I’ll take over,” and he said “No, you said you were tired before, so you sleep.” They held hands and looked out the windows and every so often smiled at each other till the kids came back. “No mess, please,” he said. “Napkins on the lap; all that. And drinks, when you’re not drinking them, in the cup holders and with the lids on,” and he drove to the I-95 entrance about a mile away. “There’s the Subway,” he said to Gwen. “Last chance,” and she said “Thanks, but I’ll be all right.”
