So we were on the road, but not without having an argument first.
So we were on the road, but not without having an argument first.
I called Monica and gave her a line about how I wanted to take a break and had a chance to stay overnight with a friend from school whose family had a lake cottage in Sibley County. “She says there’s a wood stove so it will be plenty warm enough and we won’t party or anything. It’s just me and her and her dog. He’s a good watchdog, so it will be totally safe.”
It took her a while to respond. I hoped she was thinking about how someone from the Joint Terrorism Task Force could be listening in before she made a decision. Besides, I’d planted clues. We both thought there were way too many monuments and places named after Henry Hastings Sibley, so I chose that county deliberately. I might have been a little heavy-handed when I added the watchdog stuff, but if she picked up on my Sibley clue, she probably also realized I was doing something risky, and I needed a way to tell her I would be careful.
“That sound nice,” she said at last, as if it didn’t sound nice at all.
“I know it’s kind of unplanned, but I really want to hang out with my friend. Is it okay?”
“I guess so. Call if you need anything.”
“Okay. Say hi to Dieter for me.”
“How did you know . . . she says hi,” she mumbled off to the side and I heard a cheerful Cherman voice call out “Hello, Zen” in the background.
“Take care of yourself,” Monica said. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” I replied, wondering if I’d ever said that to her out loud before.
Meanwhile Nikko was trying to get hold of his parents, but he hung up twice without leaving messages and looked frustrated. Then something dawned. His face is like a billboard sometimes, only not so big and ugly. “So, my dad’s in court today, and I forgot my mom’s out of town on a business trip. But I have a better idea. I know someone with a car we can use.”
“You think he’ll let you borrow his car?”
“And share the driving. It’s a long trip.”
“He’s trustworthy?”
“It’s a she, actually. I’d trust her with my life.”
“Maybe you would, but I don’t know her.” Then I realized who it was. “It’s that purple-haired girl.”
“Her name is Bree.”
“You realize you’d be putting her at risk, right? Are you sure you want to do that?”
“She’d totally be up for it. She was talking about how unfair those arrests were before I even heard about it.”
“I didn’t see her at the protest.”
“Maybe you just weren’t paying attention.”
“She was there?”
“Yes, she was there, tabling for the Solidarity Committee. “
“Oh great, those people who decided to own the cause. They just want to get on television.”
“You’re not being very rational about this.”
If there’s one thing that makes me see red, it’s a man telling me I’m not being rational.
“I shouldn’t have said that. Look, Bree thinks the FBI’s anti-terrorist program has put a lot of innocent people in prison. That’s why she went to the protest. She has a car and can help with the driving. Oh, and she took a first aid course last year. How perfect is that?”
“The more people