Caitlin's Trip
From Chicago to Toronto
The next morning I stretch out my arms and realize I'm alone, as I become aware of my surroundings I hear the shower on. I walk into the washroom where I can see Jimmy's silhouette through the shower curtain. "Are you feeling better?" I ask as I sit on the toilette.
"Yeah," he says as I hear the water stop. "We can continue our trip today."
"Sounds good," I say as I stand up and flush the toilette. I remove my clothes and take my own shower as Jimmy dries off. After my shower I wrap a towel around myself and walk out of the bathroom.
"We should leave soon; I don't want to have to deal with Miles," Jimmy says as he zips up his bag.
"Okay," I say pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I put my remaining stuff in my bag and put on my jacket. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jimmy says confidently as he puts on his own jacket. Jimmy opens the door and looks around cautiously. "Coast is clear."
"How very Mission Impossible of you," I say slinging my bag over my shoulder. We walk to the car and Jimmy sits in the driver's seat and unlocks the passenger door. We toss our bags into the backseat and drive away towards our destination.
Four hours later we approach the American-Canadian border. The customs officer looks into the car. "Jeez, how old are you kids?" he asks in disbelief.
"Nineteen," Jimmy says rolling his eyes.
"Eighteen," I mutter.
"Can I see some ID? Possibly a passport or driver's license?" I reach into my bag and pull out my driver's license and hand it to Jimmy who pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands the officer the licenses. "What's your business in Canada?"
"Just visiting," I say trying to act tourist-like.
"For how long?"
"Three or four weeks," Jimmy says taking back our driver's licenses.
"Alright," he says letting us pass. We drive away.
"Jeez, how old are you kids?" I say mocking the officer.
"Can I see some ID?" Jimmy says in a perfect impression of the prune we just dealt with. We laugh for a while before we calm down and concentrate on where we're going. Jimmy suddenly pulls over and opens his door.
"What's wrong?" I ask worriedly.
"My ass hurts!" he yells.
"Okay." I say joining him outside and feel the autumn breeze hit my face. He jumps around a bit and turns to me.
"You ready to go?"
"Sure, I'll drive if you want."
"Thanks," he says making his way to the passenger door.
That evening we drive into Toronto and look for a place to spend the night but give up around 10PM, so we decide to sleep in the car. "Can't believe we're here," I say spooned in Jimmy's arms.
"Why's that?"
"I didn't think you'd be able to make it out of the hospital bed, then again at the motel," I say as I snuggle up to his chest.
"Sorry about that," he mutters as he holds me closer.
"Don't be," I say as place my arm over his torso and fall asleep.
"Yeah," he says as I hear the water stop. "We can continue our trip today."
"Sounds good," I say as I stand up and flush the toilette. I remove my clothes and take my own shower as Jimmy dries off. After my shower I wrap a towel around myself and walk out of the bathroom.
"We should leave soon; I don't want to have to deal with Miles," Jimmy says as he zips up his bag.
"Okay," I say pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I put my remaining stuff in my bag and put on my jacket. "You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Jimmy says confidently as he puts on his own jacket. Jimmy opens the door and looks around cautiously. "Coast is clear."
"How very Mission Impossible of you," I say slinging my bag over my shoulder. We walk to the car and Jimmy sits in the driver's seat and unlocks the passenger door. We toss our bags into the backseat and drive away towards our destination.
Four hours later we approach the American-Canadian border. The customs officer looks into the car. "Jeez, how old are you kids?" he asks in disbelief.
"Nineteen," Jimmy says rolling his eyes.
"Eighteen," I mutter.
"Can I see some ID? Possibly a passport or driver's license?" I reach into my bag and pull out my driver's license and hand it to Jimmy who pulls his wallet out of his pocket and hands the officer the licenses. "What's your business in Canada?"
"Just visiting," I say trying to act tourist-like.
"For how long?"
"Three or four weeks," Jimmy says taking back our driver's licenses.
"Alright," he says letting us pass. We drive away.
"Jeez, how old are you kids?" I say mocking the officer.
"Can I see some ID?" Jimmy says in a perfect impression of the prune we just dealt with. We laugh for a while before we calm down and concentrate on where we're going. Jimmy suddenly pulls over and opens his door.
"What's wrong?" I ask worriedly.
"My ass hurts!" he yells.
"Okay." I say joining him outside and feel the autumn breeze hit my face. He jumps around a bit and turns to me.
"You ready to go?"
"Sure, I'll drive if you want."
"Thanks," he says making his way to the passenger door.
That evening we drive into Toronto and look for a place to spend the night but give up around 10PM, so we decide to sleep in the car. "Can't believe we're here," I say spooned in Jimmy's arms.
"Why's that?"
"I didn't think you'd be able to make it out of the hospital bed, then again at the motel," I say as I snuggle up to his chest.
"Sorry about that," he mutters as he holds me closer.
"Don't be," I say as place my arm over his torso and fall asleep.