If We Drive There

“I suppose if we drive there it beats the purpose, right?” Mom said in the last week of April during the summer I moved to college.

She’d gotten a postcard in the mail from 24 Hour Fitness offering $7 a month memberships for family of current members at their newest location in Folsom. The gym was a third of a mile from our house, and the postcard highlighted the 24 hour availability, the convenient location, and the huge bargain for new members.

She pulled into a parking space. “Oh, son of a bitch,” She started. “I forgot to buy stuffing mix to make dinner tonight. We need to go to the store first.” She started to back out of her parking space, and then stopped. “Unless Taco Bell is ok?” she asked. “I mean, we are going to work out.”

I was my mom’s partner in crime when it came to anything that involved spicy melted cheese, now, and especially for under a dollar, and especially if that dollar belonged to her.

“Cool.” I said. I would have said more, but I had already started to put together my order in my mind. Two Meximelts. Two Crunchy Soft Taco Supremes. One Mexican Pizza. One Nacho Bell Grande (to share with Mom).