Archive of Our Own ^beta

Norm had thought his life was done changing.

He had gone on an impossible voyage, been transported forward in time, then ousted from the community he sought refuge in, only to come back three years later, led by a green Messiah that would alter the course of the rest of his once-sad life forever. Really, that should’ve been enough changing for one man to experience. And, a little over a year after that fateful day, Norm’s assumption had (mostly) remained correct. There were little changes, here and there--he built a new house for himself within Dialtown’s city limits, he got a new job, he made new friends--but all of it mostly rounded out to Norm living a relatively happy, relatively unchanged life.

That is, until one particular Sunday, where that green Messiah sets change into motion once again.

“They’re gettin’ big,” Norm notes to his watermelon-hued friend sitting beside him on the bench.

They’re at the park, watching Gingi’s offspring scurry around in the grass, playing with a ball Norm definitely remembers some other kids playing with just a few days prior. They typically did this on Sundays; Norm would stop by the park after church to spend time with Gingi and their kids. It was tough work, being a parent, but Gingi was handling it pretty well. Norm still thought they should consider upgrading their home to something more suitable for the growing kids, but Gingi was very insistent on remaining in a tent at the park. Maybe Norm would buy them a bigger tent--something that could more comfortably fit the family of six.

“Well, kids do that,” Gingi replies, “That’s how they become people.”

“They’re already people, Gingi. Just little people.” Norm corrects them, watching one of Gingi’s kids run face first into a tree. They peel themself off the tree with ease, letting out a cackle of delight as they do so. Yep, those sure are Gingi’s kids.

“Would you honestly consider my spawn to be people? They’re more like horrible, disgusting creechurs.”

“Well, yer a creature, so I s’pose that’d be apt.” Norm says, “Still. Y’ gotta start thinkin’ about what yer gonna do when they’re grown. Have y’ started lookin’ at school yet?”

“Ugh. Me no think. Just creechur.”

“C’mon, Gingi! I know you got thoughts in that head o’ yers!” Norm says, slapping his green friend on the back. “This stuff is important! These are yer kids we’re talkin’ ‘bout!” Gingi turns to look at Norm, their fleshy phone-dial staring up at Norm curiously.

“Why do you care so much about the well-being of my kids?” They ask, causing Norm to let out an exasperated huff.

“Because they’re kids, Gingi! And you got a responsibility t’ them ‘til they’re grown enough t’ leave.” He explains, gesturing towards the creature’s spawn that have now all taken to ramming themselves into the tree. “I’d like t’ consider myself a bit of a family man, so these things matter t’ me, and they should matter t’ you too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have a family.” Gingi replies, which stings in a way they likely did not intend. Norm looks away for a moment, his shoulders hiked up defensively.

“Well, I had a family.” Norm mutters. “Once.” He looks back to see Gingi still staring at him, head tilted to the side.

“Really?” Gingi sits up a little straighter on the bench, curiosity piqued. “Tell me about them!”

“I’d really rather not,” Norm says under his breath, though just loud enough for Gingi to hear.

“Oh come onnnnnnnn.” Gingi draws out, flopping their freakish hexa-nippled body onto Norm’s as they plead. “Pweaseeeeeee I’ll be sooooo niceys about it I prommy!”

“I said no, Gingi!” Norm grunts, trying his damnedest to push them off of him. They don’t take no for an answer and continue to press into him, practically knocking Norm’s bag off with how forcefully they press their head into the juncture of his neck.

“Is there anything I can do to…convince you? ;-)” They say, intentionally putting on a husky tone right at the end.

“How’d you make that noise with yer mouth!?” Norm asks in bewilderment. “Alright, alright, fine! I’ll tell ya!” Gingi chirps in delight and immediately ceases their flopping, sitting cross-legged on the bench like a child might sit and wait for storytime. He sighs as he situates himself properly. “There ain’t much to say ‘bout the subject, truth be told. My wife’s name was Betsy. We met sometime after I came home from combat--she was hard-headed and tough, much like m’self. We got along just fine. Got married shortly after datin’, as was customary during the time. Then…we had Sylvia-Grace.”

“You named your daughter with two names? Is that allowed?”

“Hush. Unless you want me to stop tellin’ my story?”

“...I’ll be quiet.”

“Good. Anyway, we had Sylvia shortly before I left for space. It was…kind of an accident? We knew we wanted kids, but weren’t sure when we wanted t’ start that chapter of our lives. She was our happy lil’ accident.” Even now, Norm can still remember that day in the hospital. Pacing anxiously up and down the halls as his wife gave birth; the joy and pride he felt rush through him when the nurse finally came to fetch him. The way the world skidded to a halt that first time he laid eyes on his child.

She was beautiful, with wisps of blonde hair and a nose that matched his. A perfect baby.

“...’Course, I hadn’t known that a few weeks after my pride and joy was born that President Callum Crown would call me to Dialtown for such an important mission. I was sad t’ leave but…but I thought I’d be back. I…I thought I’d get to come home to my family...” He trails off, throat closing up as old grief constricts him once more. “That day I landed back in Dialtown and realized all I had known had changed--that was I was sent int’ the future--I…well, I wept.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Gingi looking at him, expressing their sympathy through that simple gesture. Norm feels himself smile, despite his grief, and rests his hand atop theirs.

“I ‘preciate the support, pardner, but I’m okay. I’ve learned to live with my grief and jus’...try to live on with their memory in mind.” He says, giving Gingi’s hand a squeeze before letting go. They remain like that for a moment or two, Norm’s gaze drifting back to the kids now playing with their (definitely stolen) ball again, until he hears Gingi make a pained noise. He looks back to his friend deep in thought, grunting and groaning with the effort of it. “Um, pardner? Y’ okay there--”

“HHHHHHHHH THINKING.” Gingi groans, grabbing at their head as they continue to squirm around in agony. “HHHHHHHHHHHH--Wait, there’s the thought!” They suddenly turn and point at Norm. “Wouldn’t your kid still be alive if she was born right before you left?” Norm stares at them for a moment.

Then another.

Then another.

Then another.

“Uh, Norm? You okay there, man?” Gingi asks, leaning forward with concern. Norm bends over, resting his head in his hands, as the realization slams into his worldview like a train decimating a Buggy. “Do you need like. A second? Or…”

“You jus’ told me my kid could be alive, after I spent years believin’ she was dead. O’ course I need a damn second!” Norm snaps back, feeling like maybe he should start groaning and grunting over the effort of trying to parse through this realization. His kid was alive. Or, well, she could be alive. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? Why had he immediately jumped to the assumption that she was dead? She wouldn’t be that old now, probably somewhere in her fifties--holy shit he is so fucking stupid.

“Well, hey, here’s another thought: Why don’t you go find her?” Gingi suggests. “You can have a great big cowboy reunion and then you won’t have to mope about your dead family anymore! Or, I guess your wife is still dead, which sucks. RIP to her, but at least maybe you’ll get some closure!” Norm sits up, looking at Gingi with a kind of manic delight.

“Gingi, yer a goddamn genius.” He says, grinning, “But--But how would I do it? She could be anywhere in th’ country--hell, in the damn world! Where would I start?” Gingi shrugs at that, just in time to the ear-piercing scream of one of their kids getting into some manner of trouble.

“I’m just a little guy, so I have absolutely no clue. But, uh, good luck with that! I gots to go wrangle my Ginglings before they tear a child asunder!” They say before chasing after one of their children--the particularly crafty-looking raccoon-headed one. Norm watches them go, pondering the matter of how he should go about wrangling his daughter. There has to be someone he knows who could help him. Someone he can trust to do a job well. Someone who isn’t afraid to go to morally-questionable lengths for a cause. Someone with endless connections to government agencies that might be able to track down her whereabouts.

But who could possibly fit that description?

---

“Absolutely not.” Mingus says, “Also, why did you give your daughter two first names?”

“It was common practice where I’m from!” Norm retorts. “Also, why the hell not!?” He stands in the Mayor’s office, the woman in question not even bothering to look at him as she takes a sip from her goblet of crime-milk. Norm huffs, feeling frustration start to bubble up, his hand itching to fire off a warning shot just to get her to take this seriously. He holds no animosity towards her--he’s long since settled those demons--but god does she sometimes drive him up a wall.

“Because I’m busy,” Mingus replies as she sets her goblet down, dabbing at the excess milk around her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Busy doin’ what? Sittin’ here and lettin’ everyone else do the hard work for ya?!” He retorts, crossing his arms. Mingus rolls her eyes.

“You know I have a mountain of paperwork I have an obligation to keep up with, and that’s before all the phonecalls I have to take and the meetings I am forced to attend.” She says with a dismissive wave. The itch becomes harder to ignore.

“I’m not askin’ ya to take a damn holiday t’ find my daughter and you know that, Mingus. I’m just askin’ ya t’ help me find her.” Norm says, keeping his voice even so as to not clue her into his frustration. He’s learned from one too many conversations with the woman that she practically feeds off of people’s frustrations. And, especially with Norm. It keeps conversations between them interesting, but it means he has to cross a minefield just to get an honest answer out of her. “Jus’ use those damn government connections I know ya have and get me an address so I can go to her m’self.”

“And what’s in it for me, eh?” Mingus asks, “I would have to be pulling some pretty important strings to get something as coveted as a private address. I could very well risk my position!” Now it’s Norm’s turn to roll his eyes, though of course it’s hidden by the paper bag.

“You’d be doin’ somethin’ awfully nice for a friend?” Norm tries, to which Mingus lets out a laugh.

“Friend? Norm, you and I are acquaintances at best. Try again.” She replies.

“You’d be doin’ a good deed, thus balancing out your karmic output?”

“You and I both know it’d take more than one good deed to balance my karmic output.”

“‘Cause y’ can see that I’m genuinely desperate and can’t go to a single other person in this city for help?”

“I’m getting bored, Norm. You’re not convincing me.”

“Fine,” Norm says with a sigh, uncrossing his arms so he can place his hands on his hips. “I’ll keep quiet during the next five meetings so y’ can do as ya please.” Mingus looks away for a moment, hand up to her chin as she audibly considers her options. Then, she turns, pointing at Norm before saying:

“Make it ten and we have a deal.”

“Ten?! Lord knows the kind of Draconian laws you’ll reinstate in ten meetings!”

“Then I guess you really don’t want to see your daughter then, do you?” Mingus begins to turn away from Norm, causing the man to reach out and grab her shoulder. She looks over it at him, eyes calculating and cool. Norm sighs deeply for all that Dialtown may lose with this decision and hangs his head.

“You got yerself a deal.” He mutters, to which Mingus claps once in delight.

“Perfect. Now shoo, I have a phonecall in two minutes I cannot miss.” She delicately removes his hand from her shoulder and waves him off.

Norm stares at her dumbfounded. “But what about th’--”

“I’ll get to it after this call, okay? I can’t magically produce an address out of thin air. I’ll need time to contact my contacts.” The phone on her desk begins to ring, causing her to pinch her nose in frustration. “That’s my three o’clock, you need to leave.” Norm stands there for only a moment before finally being shooed out, just as the Mayor’s calm and collected voice filters through the room.

Norm stands outside the door, feeling as though he’s just made a great mistake. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He made a deal with the Devil of Dialtown and now he’ll just need to wait for her to hold up her end of the bargain. Surely it won’t take that long, right?

---

One week in and Norm is already impatient.

He’s tried his best to bide his time. He’s gone to work, hung out with friends, even spent an extra long morning at the church on Sunday just to keep him out of the house. But every night that he comes home, spent from the day's activities, he lies in wake wondering when Mingus will call. She said she’d call, right? Or did he just assume that? Oh god, is she doing anything at all? Did she just say yes to get him out of her office? Shit, should he text her? What--

“You doing okay, man? You’re looking pretty un-gnarly right now.” Norm turns, alarmed, having completely forgotten Oliver was even sitting next to him. Oliver’s hand, which had been extended as if to wave, falls at the reaction.

“Ah, sorry Oliver. Forgot you were there…somehow.” He says apologetically. Oliver perks up and throws out a thumbs up, his earlier concern now replaced with that easy-going attitude he always sports.

“Nah, it’s no problemo, my good yeehawman! Tons of people forget I’m here all the time!” Oliver replies cheerily. “Either that, or they’re willfully trying to ignore me, as if I would somehow phase out from this plane of existence if left unacknowledged for too long.”

“Yeah, that--Yeah…” Norm trails off, unsure of how to respond. The two are seated on Norm’s front porch, overlooking the small plot of land he has to himself. It’s a happy medium between his life as an outcast hermit and his new future as a functioning member of society; a little plot of land not far from the Funfair, still within ample driving distance of town. It was one of the first concessions Mingus offered after the smoke cleared--a place for him to call home.

(That, or she was desperately trying to push the land off to someone else. Eh, beggars can’t be choosers, as Randy used to say.)

It took an awful lot of work to get it to the point it’s at now; and, thanks to his friends’ endless generosity of time and places for him to crash while the roof was being installed, it has become a point of pride for him. He often has people over--Karen likes to come and paint the woods by his house, Randy often visits when it’s too cold at the ticket booth to sleep, Oliver is filming some sort of nature documentary(?) so he’s here an awful lot. Hell, even Bigfoot stops by every once in a while to sit and have tea with Norm. (Or, well, a banana steeped in hot water can be considered tea, right?)

Today, Oliver didn’t come by to film. He kind of just showed up unannounced? Which is typical of him, so Norm just grabbed a kitchen chair from inside to put beside his rocker, and the two have been idly sitting and watching the world go by. Oliver’s been going off about something or another and Norm has been…well, he hasn’t really been listening. More like waiting for pauses in conversation to grunt or nod his head; his mind far too occupied with the matter at-hand to pay attention to what insane film idea the boy’s been concocting.

Seems he’s finally realized he’s not being listened to. Oops.

“‘M sorry, Oliver. I’m bein’ an awful host.” Norm says apologetically. “I’ve jus’ had a lot on m’ mind, is all.” Oliver nods, turning away for a second before facing him once more, his hands nervously steepled together.

“Hey, it’s totally okay if you don’t wanna talk about this with me,” Oliver starts, sounding a bit more serious. “But you’re thinking about your daughter, aren’t you?” Norm’s eyebrows shoot up behind his bag, and for once he’s glad people can’t see the expressions he makes behind it.

“How did y’--”

“Gingi told me.” Oliver blurts out before holding his hands up in defense. “To be fair!! I asked them about something related to you and it kinda just tumbled out of them. They’re kiiiiiiinda terrible at keeping secrets.”

“I coulda told y’ that one,” Norm says with a fond shake of his head. Leave it to Gingi to keep a trusted secret to themself. “Well, I s’pose the cat’s out of the bag, so to speak.”

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me anything.” Oliver says with a wave of his hand. “…But you kind of sound like you need to? And if I have the opportunity to be an ear for you to slop all your thought-mush onto, then I wanna do that!” Norm tries his best not to cringe at Oliver’s word choice, but it’s kind of hard when the guy makes it his mission to say the weirdest sentences imaginable.

“Y’ got a point, no matter how…oddly y’ put it.” Norm begins, leaning back in his rocker as his gaze flits away from Oliver to the land in front of his house. The place is so serene, despite the distant sounds of screaming from the Funfair, that it’s easy for him to get lost in his own head just sitting out here. The world has changed so much during his life, but little things--like sitting on a front porch just gazing at the clouds--have luckily stayed the same. Silence fills the air between the two for a moment as Norm takes it in, trying his best to figure out how best to start the conversation again. He’s still not the biggest fan of emotional vulnerability, so things like this are taken with careful, trembling hands. Like a fawn taking its first steps, or Randy trying to order a pizza off of UberEats.

Luckily, Oliver seems to pick up on his hesitation because he strikes first. “So, you’re tracking her down, right?”

“Yeah. Mingus ‘s helpin’ me find her.” Norm explains simply. Oliver lets out a little whoop of surprise, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Woah, Miss Pussycat herself? Helping someone? What’d you have to offer her--your immortal soul?” He says with a laugh, to which Norm lets out a little chuckle of his own.

“‘Bout damn near had to, I reckon.” Norm says with an amused grin. “She drives a hard bargain, that mayor.”

“And how! Mr. Dickens is still trying to negotiate with her about expanding the Scareshack to the empty building next door. Apparently she doesn’t want Dialtown’s greatest horror attraction to be even gnarlier!”

“Either that, or she don’t want those ghosts to gain access to more buildings in Uptown.” Norm mutters under his breath.

“What was that, my man?” Oliver asks, head cocked to the side. Norm waves it off.

“Never mind ‘bout all that. Point is, she’s helpin’ me find m’ daughter and I’ve been goin’ damn near nuts waitin’ to hear about it.” He explains, to which Oliver nods his head thoughtfully. “I get that it’s gonna be difficult to find someone’s address when all y’ got is a name and a date of birth--I mean, Lord knows how many Sylvia-Grace Allen’s ‘re out there in this great big country o’ ours.”

“Not many, I imagine,” Oliver replies. “I mean, who the hell is naming their kid with two first names?” Norm turns to Oliver and points accusingly.

“Fer your information, it was common t’ do that where I grew up,” He starts, “But also, I guess you’re right. Especially since Mingus has got her date of birth, you’d think she’d have contacted me with somethin’ by now, right?” Oliver ponders over this for a second, hand up to the bottom of his phone-head.

“Maybe Mayor Puss Puss is running into some trouble picking up the scent trail? You should consider dangling a stinky sock in front of her and see if that helps!” Oliver says, snapping his fingers as if he’s just cracked the code.

“Okay, first of all, Mingus has a cat head, not a bloodhound’s.” Norm starts, deadpanned. “Secondly, I ain’t got anything of my daughters for her to ‘pick up her scent’. I lost everything when I was sent through that wormhole. The whole reason I asked Mingus t’ help me is ‘cause she’s the only person I know with access to government files that might be able t’ track her with jus’ a name and birthdate.” He slumps over, holding his head in his hands as he gazes out at his yard, feeling more restless than ever. “I jus’ thought…I dunno. That it wouldn’t take this long?”

“I mean, it’s only been how long since you asked?” Oliver asks.

“A week.” Norm says mournfully, letting out a sigh. “Yer right, yer right. I’m bein’ impatient, I know I am.” Back when he lived in his shack, all he could do was bide his time and think about the opportunity to take back what was his. He had gotten awfully good at it too. But now, with all the hope and vigor for life he’s been granted, waiting around just feels so…hard. He doesn’t like letting time pass him by like this. Doesn’t like the thought that there’s something he can be doing that he isn’t. Oliver shakes his head and slaps Norm heartily on the shoulder.

“Hey, dude, I don’t blame you! If I had a kid and I assumed they were dead and gone forever, and then found out from my totally gnarly green friend that they weren’t dead (probably), I’d be impatient as heck waiting to hear more too!” Oliver replies heartily, his chipper mood already cracking at Norm’s glum exterior. “But you have to remember that patience is a virtue, and all that. When you hear back from Mingus, all of this waiting is going to be totally worth it, I guarantee!” Norm shakes off the boys hand with a small smile.

“I ‘preciate that, Oliver. More than y’ know.” He says genuinely, to which Oliver sticks out a thumbs up.

“Always happy to help my dearly beloved yeehawman!” He chirps, to which Norm shakes his head amusedly. Silence lapses between the two for a moment before Oliver suddenly looks pensive again, his shoulders drawn up as he begins to wring his hands. “Hey, uh, feel free to absolutely ignore me if this question is way too personal, but…Do you regret it?” That question takes Norm by surprise, causing him to turn and look at his flannel-clad friend who immediately looks to be backpedaling. “Like I said, absolutely way too personal of a question and you don’t have to answer it! I mean, really, I should’ve never said anything about it to begin with, but I guess I was just--“

“No, no, yer fine, fezzy.” Norm says, holding out a hand to stop the guy from rambling himself to oblivion. “I’m just curious what it is you mean by that.” Oliver looks down for a moment, wringing his hands even more, before looking back at Norm.

“What I mean is, like. Looking at what your life is now, and knowing that you’d lose basically everything you spent your whole life working toward, do you regret what you did? Do you regret taking that mission from President Crown?” He asks, his voice carrying a weight that is not typical of Oliver Swift. Norm blinks at him, processing the question, before leaning back in his rocker.

Does he regret it?

“I mean, the question ‘s loaded fer sure.” Norm begins, not sure of where he’s going in the slightest. “Can’t say I think too much ‘bout regrets, now that I’ve mostly settled into life in Dialtown. I used to think about regrets a lot back in my shack, but…those were never about the mission. They were about Dialtown ‘r Mingus ‘r some combination of the two. I…I don’t know.”

“I mean, you miss your family though, right?” Oliver prods, letting his hands rest in his lap. “That’s the whole reason you’re looking for your daughter in the first place.”

“That’s true, but--I don’t know. I guess I had just made my peace with the situation as it was? I mean, I was so new to bein’ a father--it had only been a couple of weeks after Sylvia-Grace was born that I was contacted by President Callum Crown. My life was hardly settled, at that point, and Crown’s ask was so great that I just. I felt like I couldn’t say no, y’know? Like, I was going to make history by doin’ this, and Crown looked at me and thought I’d be the best choice. That’s…That’s a lot to put on a guy! So it was like my family, my new life as a father, was kinda…secondary, in that moment. I’d go on one final mission before settlin’ down fer life…” He trails off, unsure of what to really say at that point. He had sacrificed everything for Crown, and this is what it got him. He lost a lot, but he gained a whole lot too. Can he really say he regrets going on that mission if that mission is what has gotten him this happy little life?

Before either Oliver or Norm could have a second to parse through that winding answer, a car horn startles the two into looking. Driving down the lone dirt road leading to Norm’s house is a purple sports car, which turns into the driveway before skidding to a halt. With the sunroof down, it’s evident to see the driver: Miss Mingus Crown, looking just a touch disheveled from the wind as she locks eyes with Norm. Though there’s a sizeable distance between the two, the next words out of the woman’s mouth are loud and clear.

“I found her.”

---

“Did y’ really have to come speedin’ down to my house if y’ were just gonna make us go back to your office anyway?” Norm asks, settling into the chair across from Mingus’s desk. “Y’know a phonecall would’ve sufficed.” From behind him, he hears the door shut and the click-clack of heels against the hardwood floor as Mingus comes up to the side of him, setting down a folder in front of him on the desk.

“Oh, sorry--would you have preferred I waited with this precious nugget of information? Or can you just be grateful I decided against sitting on it and wheedling more favors out of you?” She says sharply, tapping a gloved finger against the folder. Norm shoos her hand away so he can grab the folder, holding it protectively to his chest.

“Well, I ‘preciate you bein’ a halfway decent human bein’ for once.” He says sarcastically. Mingus smiles, showing off her canines as she does so.

“You’re welcome! Now open it.” Norm rolls his eyes but does as he’s told, opening the folder and staring blankly at the single document stashed inside.

“What th’ hell is this?” He asks, grabbing the sheet of paper and presenting it to Mingus. She lets out a belabored sigh as she sits down across from him in her office chair.

“It is exactly what you asked me to produce: an address.” She explains. “If I had asked for the girl’s entire life’s history I would’ve had a lot more trouble. Bureaucrats don’t like giving up this kind of juicy, highly-personal information to just anyone who asks for it. You have to give something to get something. And this is what you wanted, correct?” Norm nods.

“I s’pose, I just…was expectin’ a little more fer how long it took t’ get.” He admits a little sheepishly.

“Well, bureaucrats also love taking their sweet time, so there’s that.” Mingus explains. “Anyway, it would appear as if your daughter has settled in a nice little suburban neighborhood in California.” Norm looks down at the page and scans for that information, confirming it with a nod.

“I reckon that’s a good place t’ settle down. Beats goin’ over east towards all them Yankee states.” Norm says with a huff of a laugh that Mingus does not return in the slightest. In fact, she looks a little extra calculating, if Norm were to judge that glint in her eye.

“It’s about a thirty-two hour drive, if you were curious.” Mingus says apropos of nothing. “Or a couple hours on a plane, if you didn’t feel like making the trek.” Oh, that’s right, Norm has to think about how he’s getting there. He’s honestly been so caught up in getting the information that he hadn’t thought of how he was getting there once he got it.

“Well, despite the amount o’ flyin’ I’ve done in my day, I think I’d rather go by car. Gives me the opportunity to travel this great country of ours!” And it means Norm won’t have to deal with hundreds of eyes watching his paper-bagged self get on a plane. Would his paper bag even get through airport security? He’s heard that that’s gotten a lot stricter, nowadays. No idea why.

Mingus nods her head at this, folding her hands atop her desk. “Right, well, in that case I think you’ve got to start thinking of someone to go with you on this journey.” Norm’s drawn out of his airport-related reverie to stare at Mingus, once again noting the oddity in how she’s looking. She looks like she wants to say something but is holding back, which is surprising because she never holds her tongue.

Something’s up.

“…Right,” Norm says with a slow nod, analyzing every inch of the mayor to find out what trick she’s got up her sleeve. Is she actually going to try and bargain for more out of their deal? “I don’t understand what yer gettin’ at, missy. I reckon I could do this trip all on m’ own.”

“Sure, sure, you could. If you enjoy sitting in one position for more than eight hours a day, stopping only to use the restroom or fill up your car, stuck with your own thoughts for god knows how long until you reach your destination.” Okay, she makes an awfully good point. Driving thirty-two hours solo sounds like a nightmare.

“Then I’ll ask someone t’ come with me.” Norm settles on, not exactly happy with the idea (as it means adding another person to the reunion he has pictured in his mind) but willing to settle with reality. Mingus nods, holding a hand to her chin as she does so.

“Right. Well, the person you ask would have to know how to drive, or else they’ll be of no use to you.” She states, “And they’d have to be free. You know, not burdened by things such as their job at the Scareshack, or painting horses in the middle of nowhere, or whatever it is Randal Jade does with his time.”

“He works at the Funfair, but also--jus’ what the hell are you gettin’ at?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Norm. What am I getting at? Just who do you know who can be easily available, knows how to drive a car, and understands the importance of this little mission you’re going on?” Mingus says, leaning in a little closer with each point she makes. Norm sits there and thinks for a moment. One by one, the synapses in Norm’s brain fire to send him barreling to the conclusion:

“Y’ WANT ME T’ TAKE YOU?”

“Yes! Rotary-Christ alive, Norm, you were an astrophysicist, were you not?” Mingus pinches the bridge of her nose, her voice taking on a frustrated lilt.

“B-But why?!”

“Because you’re my sheriff, Norm! And I can’t have my sheriff going off on some trip where he’s going to absolutely break his body and then be out of commission by the time he gets back!” She explains, moving her hand away from her face to gesture towards Norm. “And besides, I’m due for a vacation.”

“A vaca--Mingus, we are finding my daughter, not goin’ on a damn roadtrip fer fun!”

“I know that, I’m just saying it would be a break from being cooped up in here all day.” Mingus counters, letting her hands fall flat on the table. “Plus, you need someone reliable to come with you on this trip. Do you really have any other choice?”

“Yes! Lots o’ choices!” Norm fires back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Karen, fer one--“

“She’s in the middle of painting for her newest exhibit and won’t have time to drop it and go with you.”

“How do y’--Fine, then Olive--”

“Can’t drive.”

“Gingi--”

“Also can’t drive and would probably eat your spare tire if left alone for too long.”

“True. Then--”

“Don’t you dare suggest Randy.”

“Then Bigfoot! ‘R Mr. Dickens! God, I’d take fuckin’ Shatty and Stooby--”

“One: Bigfoot can’t drive either. Two: no you wouldn’t.” Mingus punctuates her thought with another sigh. “Norm, why can’t you just agree that I’m the obvious choice for traveling partners?”

Norm looks away and crosses his arms. “‘Cause I disagree with y’ on principle ‘bout most everything else.” He mutters before turning back to face her unimpressed gaze. “An’ besides, it still don’t explain why you’re itchin’ t’ go so bad. You can jus’ take a vacation, Mingus. Ain’t nobody around t’ stop y’.” Now it’s Mingus’s turn to look away, as her fingers drum against the desk.

“Well, maybe I’m just trying to be nice. Have you ever considered that?” She says just loud enough for Norm to hear, catching him off guard once again. Though, he’s quick to dismiss the notion; Mingus doesn’t do nice things for free. There’s always some sort of catch. She’s much like a genie in this way, and boy does Norm wish he could cram her back into the bottle right now.

Still, she’s made her point clear; who else could honestly go with him? Everyone’s got their own lives to live. This is Norm’s mission, but he can’t do it alone. He needs somebody.

“…Fine. I reckon you’re right.” Norm concedes at last. Mingus’s ears perk up as she turns back to face him, just in time to see him hold up a single finger. “But. We take my truck.” Her ears immediately pin back as she glares daggers at him.

“…Deal.”

---

It takes some time to prepare.

As much as Norm would’ve liked to pack his things and leave that night, for a trip as long as he and Mingus are about to go on, you need time to get everything together. Luckily, it’s not like he has to request time off, since his boss is literally going with him. But still there are checklists to make, bags to pack, and meetings to reschedule. By the time they’re ready to head out, another week has already passed, landing them smack dab in the middle of June.

The morning they’re due to set off, Norm gets up bright and early, pours himself an extra large cup of coffee and barely drinks a sip of it, already too hopped up on nerves to need the caffeine. Then, he loads up his truck full of everything he needs and makes the quick trip into town to grab his passenger.

Pulling up to Town Hall, Norm is surprised to see Mingus already waiting for him. What’s even more surprising is what she’s wearing--it seems she’s forgoing her usual attire for something more suited for the long road ahead. She’s wearing a purple tracksuit that shows off just a sliver of midriff, along with a pair of white tennis shoes and a purple, flowery headscarf that she’s tied under her chin (her ears still trapped under the garment). She’s also wearing a pair of light purple, heart-shaped sunglasses with dark tinted lenses that she’s somehow managed to get to stay on despite the lack of ears on either side of her head. Her gloves are off, revealing her stiletto acrylics, also painted a dark purple. All in all, probably the most casual he’s seen the mayor since meeting her.

…Also, why the hell is he staring so much?

Luckily, Mingus doesn’t notice the insane once-over Norm just gave her because she’s currently speaking to the other person in this tableau--Tango, her assistant. Norm rolls down the passenger side window just to hear the tail-end of her spiel:

“And if those bastards in Accounting ask about my personal expenses for this trip, tell them they can take their invoices and their budgets and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine, do you understand?” Tango nods his head fervently, his arms full of Mingus’s many bags.

“Loud and clear, ma’am!” Tango responds cheerily, which doesn’t seem to work in making Mingus look less stressed. She does, however, cease her ranting and turns her attention to Norm. Norm gives her a little wave as she opens the passenger side door.

“Howdy, Mingus.” Norm says as she gets into the car. “And howdy to you too, Tango.” He tips his hat towards the fellow, who is practically buzzing with excitement.

“Hiya Mr. Norm!” He chirps back, “Are you excited to see California?” Norm smiles good naturedly as Mingus clicks on her seatbelt, motioning for Tango to hand her her bags so she can place them in the backseat.

“I reckon we’ll be seein’ a lot more than jus’ California, but yes, I am excited.” Norm replies.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to go to California! See the sights, go to the beach, maybe even pass by a celebrity or two!” Tango says as he helps Mingus with her bags. Norm lets out a little laugh at his enthusiasm; he’s always like this, and while some days it can be a bit much, today it’s just slightly more bearable. Probably because Norm gets such a kick out of seeing Mingus look so annoyed.

“Well, I’ll be sure t’ bring somethin’ back fer ya, then.” Norm says with a wink, causing Tango to hold both his hands up to his head in shock.

“Really?” Tango asks, in awe. Norm nods. “Wowie, that’s great! Thanks so much, sir!”

“O’ course, Tango.” Mingus, now with her bags all situated, finally shuts the door.

“Now listen to me, Terrence.” Mingus says, reaching out of the passenger-side window to grab Tango by the collar and haul him close. “I’m only going to be gone for eight days, okay? Eight. Days. I’m entrusting this city to you in the meanwhile because you are literally the only employee I trust enough to not set everything on fire. Again. No frivolous spending, no slacking off, and no guests after 9 PM. This city will be yours for eight days only and I expect you to take this job seriously. If I come back and there’s a thing out of place, I will drive your head through a spike and stick it outside Town Hall’s doors. Do I make myself clear?” Tango, for his part, seems unaffected by her very clear threat and just nods his head, doing a little salute afterwards.

“Crystal clear, ma’am! You can count on Tango to get the job done!” He says, beaming with positivity. Mingus holds him there for another moment before relinquishing her grip, her hands resting in her lap as she lets out a sigh.

“Okay. I will…take your word for it. Let’s go, Norm.” She says, not sounding entirely sure of herself. Norm starts the car back up and puts it into drive, waiting for Tango to get back on the sidewalk before starting to drive away. The entire time, Tango waves emphatically, seeing them off in much the way a mother might see their child off when they leave for college. Norm waves back to him. Mingus does not.

Once Town Hall is but a blip behind them, Norm chuckles. “Yer entrustin’ the keys to the city to Tango?” Mingus sighs, resting her arm against the passenger side door so she can hold her head up.

“He’s all I have!” Mingus cries out, looking nervously behind her. “Phone-God, he better not fuck this up or I will fucking maul him.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be jus’ fine,” Norm replies, reaching out to pat her heartily on the shoulder. “An’ if you don’t think so, then we can always turn around an’--“

“No, no! This is fine!” Mingus cuts him off, picking her head up to shake it fervently. “It’s…fine! It’s only eight days, right? How much could go wrong in eight days?”

“How much went wrong in jus’ one night?”

“…Let’s just keep driving. Phone-God, I need a drink.” Norm barks out a laugh at that, as he drives them steadily away from Dialtown and out towards his destiny.

---

The first hour of the trip goes by without issue. There’s a bit of navigating once they exit Dialtown, but once they get on the highway it’s smooth sailing. Mingus insists on using her phone for navigation, despite Norm going through the trouble of printing out the directions the night before, and keeps it propped up on one of those car phone-stands (that she also brought, aptly knowing that Norm wouldn’t have one). Without the distraction of checking emails, Mingus is a bit restless, adjusting her sitting position every few minutes and occasionally letting out big sighs that Norm ignores. Seriously, she was the one who insisted on coming with him, and now she’s acting more fidgety than Gingi when they see a piece of floormeat and aren’t allowed to eat it.

“So,” Mingus says after another agonizing few minutes of silence. “I noticed you’re not wearing your…bag.” Norm peeks at her out of the corner of his eyes; her look is not judgemental, more…curious. Instinctually, he reaches up and scratches at the stubble on his chin.

“Yeah, well. Need t’ be able see if I wanna drive.” He replies, his tone even despite the part of his brain screaming at him to be defensive. Mingus nods to his response, looking as if she’s turning something over in her mind. Norm flits his eyes back to the highway in lieu of witnessing his character being examined so thoroughly.

“How do you see normally, then? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.” She prods further; Norm shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“I manage.” He says.

“How? Do you just echolocate everywhere? Or--wait a minute, I’ve seen you drive around the city with the bag on. How in the world do you--”

“I said I manage, okay? Don’t--Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Norm cuts her off, “Besides, I just feel like having it off! That gonna be a problem, missy?” He peeks at her again in time to see her cross her arms and huff.

“Of course it’s not. I was just…trying to make conversation.” She says. Norm rolls his eyes, turning his attention back to the road.

“Well, it was a lousy conversation starter.” He bluntly states. Silence fills the car once more, the only sounds audible coming from the world just outside their little bubble. The slap of rubber against concrete; the wind passing by their cabin; the low hum of the engine. It stretches on for miles and miles, punctuating just how long this journey will be. Norm adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, his eyes locked on the road ahead of him.

“Could we please turn the radio on or something?” Mingus says abruptly. “I am going to go insane if we continue sitting here in silence.” Norm flicks his eyes over to see her lean towards the radio, which he bats her hands away from. She looks at him in absolute offense. “Oh come on, Norm.”

“The radio ain’t play nothin’ but shit, and I don’t wanna hear it.” Norm says, pointing to the glove compartment. “Oliver left a couple o’ CDs for me in there. Play one of those.” Mingus scrutinizes him for a moment, eyes squinting, before letting out a long sigh and popping open the glove compartment. She pulls out the CD book and begins flipping through it, her face screwing up at the choice of music.

“Rascal Flatts, seriously? Who the hell listens to this?” She says in disbelief, “Oh, lord, half of this is country!”

“Y’ got a problem with that?” Norm asks.

“No, I--Do you even listen to country?” She turns her head to look at him.

“I don’t really listen to music. I think Oliver jus’ assumes I do ‘cause I’m a damn cowboy.” Norm explains with a shrug. “Look, jus’ find somethin’ and put it on. I’m sick of yer complainin’.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to find something to fill the endless, gaping void that is this car.” She says, putting the CD book back into the glove compartment and slamming it shut. “It’s not like you’re contributing much to conversation, and I don’t have anything else to do other than to stare at miles of dirt.”

“Y’ had a whole week to prepare fer this trip, Mingus.” Norm reminds her, “Y’ ain’t thought t’ bring anything t’ do while yer sittin’ here? Like a crossword puzzle? Or yarn t’ knit somethin’?” Mingus looks at him strangely at that.

“Are you just assuming I knit because I’m a woman or because I have a cat head?” She asks, causing Norm to sputter, face turning red with embarrassment.

“I ain’t--I wasn’t tryin’ t’ be sexist ‘r--’r speciesist, I guess. I was just thinkin’ of things y’ could do t’ pass the time!” He says in defense of himself. “Karen knits!”

“Oh, so because your other female friend knits that automatically means we all knit, is that right?” Mingus asks, her voice taking on a teasing lilt that only makes the red on Norm’s face get darker.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” He shoots back, looking over at Mingus for a second to glare. “I was jus’ sayin’--”

“I know, I know, you were just saying that all women are good for are doing simple, trite things like knitting or crossword puzzles. I understand you and your backwards thinking completely, Norm.” She says, putting on an overly dramatic tone. Norm looks back at the road, frowning deeply.

“Okay, now I know yer jus’ fuckin’ with me.” He grumbles, causing Mingus to let out a little laugh.

“You make it ridiculously easy.” She says. “Well, that killed a good three minutes. Back to staring at dead grass, I suppose.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s pretty out here!” Norm gestures with one hand to the flatlands around them. “Sure, the road is an eyesore, but the plains go on fer miles! Ain’t that somethin’?”

“It’s just miles and miles of fields, Norm. It’s no Rocky Mountains.” Mingus replies, sounding bored. “There’s not even any buildings out here.”

“T’ be clear, I prefer that there’s no buildings marring this scenic view we got.” Norm says, “I mean, c’mon, Mingus. Surely you have to prefer seein’ our great country in its natural form over the dense cities we’ve scarred her land with?” Mingus shrugs, turning her attention to the window.

“I like cities. More things to look at.” She says simply. Norm sighs, feeling a great shame for having someone with him who can’t appreciate the beauty of nature. “I grew up in Dialtown. It’s the place I’m most familiar with. Even when I travel out of the city for meetings and such, I still look at everything and think, ‘Well, it’s not Dialtown, that’s for sure.’” Norm looks at her for a moment, observing the way she leans against the window, staring absently out at the plains rolling endlessly beside them.

“Feeling a bit of mayoral pride, eh?” Norm teases with a warm smile. Mingus looks over at him, face scrunched up with confusion.

“What? God, no, plenty of places look nicer than Dialtown. Pretty much every other city I’ve been to is a massive step up from the backwater hole we live in.” She spits out. Then, after a beat: “But…it’s just not Dialtown.” Norm isn’t sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t say anything at all, letting his silence be his voice. For once, it feels comfortable in the cabin of his truck--like whatever barrier between them finally fell, leaving the rest of the trip for them to relax. Norm finds himself curious by this sudden shift, but not really wanting to push it. So long as Mingus isn’t fidgeting and distracting him, that’s all that matters.

They ride the next few miles in silence, and by the time Norm thinks to check on Mingus, he finds she’s already fast asleep, her face smooshed up against the window. An unconscious smile makes its way onto his face as he looks back at the road, admiring the endless stretch of dead grass ahead of him.

---

After a couple hours of napping and driving, Norm eventually decides it’s about time for them to take a quick stop. He starts looking for a rest stop sign just as Mingus begins to stir, her arms coming up into a big stretch as she greets the living with tired eyes.

“Ugh, how long has it been?” She asks groggily.

“Only a couple o’ hours,” he replies, spotting a rest stop sign signaling that one is up ahead. “We’re ‘bout to pull over, though, so you’ll have a second to stretch yer legs.” Mingus nods, yawning as she stretches again. Norm drives the requisite two or so miles until pulling off of the highway and to the rest stop. He pulls into a parking space and kills the ignition, reaching behind him to grab his paper bag from the backseat. Mingus yawns again as she unbuckles her seatbelt, already hopping out of the truck by the time Norm has his bag situated on his head. Then, he gets out, stretching his back and arms after a long stint of driving. His spine twinges in protest but he decides to ignore it, going around the front of the truck to walk into the rest stop with Mingus.

Once inside, Norm immediately identifies a possible issue they might run into over the course of this journey: As they navigate through the aisles of snacks and novelty knickknacks, the wandering optical sensors of fellow travelers follow them. Right, their heads. Norm almost forgot that they’d be the odd ones out because of that. Norm does his best not to pay the people any mind, but it’s kind of difficult when every person he passes by turns their head to follow him as he goes. Mingus seems to not notice the stares as she deftly moves through the aisles, grabbing a selection of snacks and a big bottle of iced coffee. And all along her way, people are stopping what they’re doing and just staring.

“Mingus, wait, I think people ‘r--” Norm whispers, trying to stop her, but bumps into someone in the process. “Oh--sorry, pardner, I was jus’--” He mutters, stopping when the person takes a massive step away from him. Norm feels himself flush with embarrassment, suddenly in the spotlight surrounded by so many people ogling him--and they haven’t even seen what’s under the bag yet. He weaves his way through the aisles, avoiding as many people as possible, reaching the checkout counter where Mingus has just set her things down. She’s currently digging through her purse, likely looking for her credit card, with the cashier just…staring. Norm coughs into his fist, trying to get her attention.

“Oh, Norm, there you are.” Mingus says without looking. “You’re not getting anything?” She then makes a small noise of triumph as she pulls her wallet out of her bag, flipping it open as she faces the cashier once more. It is at this moment that she pauses, furrowing her brow at the cashier who hasn’t moved an inch since she approached. “I’m sorry, sir, is there an issue?”

“Is that real?” The cashier asks in lieu of a response. Norm feels his heart drop into his feet.

“Mingus, I think we should jus’--”

“I beg your pardon?” Mingus asks, causing the cashier to jump in place, hands coming up in defense.

“I-I just mean--I’ve never seen a head like yours before! I was j-just wondering, like--is it real?” He explains, leaning forward curiously. Mingus reels back, holding her wallet to her chest. Norm reaches out and grabs her shoulder, trying to lead her away.

“Mingus, we should really get goin’--”

“Yes, of course my head is real. It’s my head.” Mingus responds, sounding a touch more annoyed, brushing Norm off completely. “Now, can I please just pay for my--”

“Can I touch it?”

A beat.

Norm reaches out for Mingus again. “Mingus, I think we should g--”

“Excuse me…?” Mingus’s voice comes out quiet, almost in disbelief of what she just heard. The cashier quickly rebounds, hands flailing wildly as he shakes his phone-head.

“No, no, I just mean--You’re head is so freaky and, like, weird! Cats don’t even have those kinds of heads anymore, so I just wanted to see if I could, like, touch it an--and see what it’s like!” He says, stumbling over his words. “Like, did you get that done intentionally? Or was your doctor just, like, a freak? N-Not saying you’re a freak--”

“It’s alright, sir, we’re just gonna head on out o’ here.” Norm says, grabbing Mingus by the arm to try and pull her away.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t budge.

In fact, she plants herself in place in front of this cashier. Arms crossed, eyes piercing the cashier with only a glance. Foot tapping an irregular rhythm on the ground. Norm has seen this kind of look on her only a handful of times. Namely, the most significant one being surrounded by flaming buildings and wild animals, her nails almost tearing through her nice white gloves as her gaze pierced through Norm and directly into his green friend.

Oh, yeah. She’s pissed.

“For your information, my head is custom and worth more than your pathetic salary at this garbage dump of a rest stop will ever earn you. And, furthermore, even if my head wasn’t a shining beacon of technological and scientific advancements, it would still be better than the rotary phone sitting on your two shoulders simply because mine contains an actual functioning brain. Do you seriously think it is appropriate to ask such invasive questions to a perfect stranger at your place of work? Do you understand the things I could do to you and your business? The complaints I could file--the lawsuits I could file? Are you honestly so absolutely brain-dead that you do not understand what it means to keep your mouth shut and just smile? Rotary-Christ it’s like I’m speaking to a caveman! If you weren’t such a waste of space, I would have dragged you by your receiver to your manager to have you summarily punished right in front of Phone-God, me, and the rest of the dogwater customers at this establishment. As it stands, though, I am just going to take my things--without paying--and leave, so they can take the cost of my snacks and iced coffee out of your next paycheck. Goodbye.” And with that, Mingus scoops up the items on the counter, turns on her heel, and stomps out of the store, leaving Norm to trail after her after mumbling some kind of apology to the poor cashier standing dumbfounded at the register.

Once they’re back in the safety of Norm’s truck, Norm looks to Mingus with palpable concern. Mingus, for her part, keeps her furious gaze pointed away from him, meaning she probably won’t tear his head off if he so much as breathes in her vicinity. Probably. He turns the key in the ignition and pulls out of the rest stop, trying his best to ignore the few customers who followed them out of the rest stop and are now watching them leave in awe. Mingus puts her sunglasses back on, ignoring everything and clutching her procured goods with an iron grip. They get back onto the highway in no time--back to their little isolated pod of safety, far away from prying eyes.

It’s only after ten minutes of driving does Norm finally decide to breach the topic.

“Mingus, are y’ oka--”

“Of course I’m fine, Norm.” Mingus snaps back. “Why wouldn’t I be fine?”

“Well, y’ practically tore a man asunder back there. In fact, had this been a year ago, y’ probably would’ve and then been convicted of felony assault.” Norm replies, gesturing behind him with a jerk of his thumb. Mingus scoffs.

“And aren’t you so proud of my immense restraint?” She says sarcastically.

“Honestly? I am.” Norm replies, not taking her bait to bicker. “That was…not the ideal scenario, and I’d say y’ showed a massive amount o’ restraint. Despite the, uh, blatant shopliftin’.” Mingus crosses her arms, snacks still in-hand, and looks out the window.

“I think it was an equal trade. One arm full of snacks and drinks for one invasive question.” She mumbles, not sounding quite as sure of herself as she did a moment ago. Ah, it seems the regret is kicking in. “I mean--Is it really so hard to just keep your thoughts to yourself? I don’t care if he went back to talk about it with his coworkers or whatever the hell, but could it not have waited until I left the store? Are people really that braindead?”

“I mean, people are judgemental, I’ll give y’ that.” Norm replies, “But that ain’t new information, now is it?” Mingus goes quiet for a moment, and when he steals a glance at her she looks…contemplative. “Somethin’ on yer mind, pardner?”

“I suppose I was just so used to nobody batting an eye at my head that I…forgot it was different.” Mingus says, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Nobody in Dialtown would ever dare single me out like that. Well, Oliver might, but he means well…I think. I guess I just got used to being treated like…Like--”

“Like an equal?” Norm finishes for her with a sly grin. “Yeah, Dialtown is a special place, ain’t it?” For a moment, Mingus doesn’t say anything in response, and Norm is content to just leave it be.

Then, quietly, with a great sort of shame in her voice, she says: “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I made you an outcast.”

---

The next few hours pass with little fanfare. Mingus, after some time sitting in silence, proves to be a fairly decent passenger. Her restless fidgeting from earlier has ceased, and she eventually finds some CD that doesn’t make her want to “commit ritual suicide in front of Phone-God and everyone” (her words, not Norm’s). Having music on definitely helps to lighten the mood, as does the flow of conversation passing between the two. They stop in a drive-thru to grab dinner, avoiding the curious stares of the employee manning the window, and park in the back of the parking lot to eat. And, though Mingus has her complaints, Norm still finds it much better than that glum state she was in earlier. As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting the vast flatlands in an orange glow, Norm decides it’s as good a place as any to stop for the day.

So then, they set out, back on the highway, in search of a place to rest. Mingus curiously watches them drive past several exits advertising budget motels and hotels.

“Norm?” She says after a while, looking over at the man who keeps his eyes on the road. “Shouldn’t we be finding somewhere to stop for the night?”

“We are,” Norm replies, scanning the next signs they drive past.

“We just passed by a motel.”

“I know.”

“Then why didn’t we stop there…?”

“‘Cause we ain’t stoppin’ at a motel tonight.” Norm says just as the sign he’s been looking for wizzes by. “Ah! There we go--I knew my directions were correct.” Mingus doesn’t have time to see what the sign had said before Norm is taking the exit, driving past even more fast food places and rinky dink motels on the way to their actual destination. Norm notices her looking around, her curiosity turning more to concern as they get farther and farther from civilization.

Finally, after a couple turns and a long drive down a particularly rocky road, they reach it: campgrounds.

“No,” Mingus breathes out in disbelief, looking as Norm navigates them past several RV’s to a plot towards the back, safe and secluded from prying eyes. “Norm--Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me and we are not staying outside tonight.”

“Is that gonna be an issue, missy?” Norm says with a smirk as he puts the truck in park.

“Is it--Yes, it is going to be an issue, Norm!” Mingus gapes at him as he undoes his seatbelt and steps out of the truck. “I do not want to be sleeping on the cold, hard dirt with all the bugs and worms! What if it rains?”

“I reckon it shouldn’t, but if it did that’s what th’ tents‘re for.” Norm calls out from the back of the truck. He watches Mingus’s door fly open and the woman practically leaps from the truck to be at his side, her finger pointing accusingly and jabbing him in the shoulder.

“You didn’t tell me we were doing this,” She hisses. “There was no discussion of any camping to be had when we planned this trip.” Norm laughs as he lifts the tarp off the bed of his truck, revealing ample supplies like tents, beach chairs, some logs of wood, a cooler, and the single duffel bag he packed his essentials in. Mingus ogles in absolute shock as Norm begins to pull stuff out, looking between the truck and him like one of them wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Aw, c’mon, Mingus, quit bein’ such a baby.” Norm teases, walking past her with the tents, setting them down on the ground to assemble. “Th’ quicker we get all this stuff set up, th’ quicker we get to relax!”

Mingus sputters like an old car, causing Norm to chuckle. “Thi--This isn’t funny! Stop laughing at me!”

“Yer makin’ it awfully hard not to!” Norm replies as he kneels down to start assembling the first tent. “C’mon Mingles, live a lil’!”

“It’s Mingus, and absolutely not.” Mingus says, crossing her arms much like a petulant child. “If you want to live out this rough and rugged fantasy of yours, you can do it yourself.”

Norm rolls his eyes playfully as he works. “Ain’t y’ ever wanted to go camping when y’ were a kid? Or did God Almighty grant you that stick up your ass right from birth?”

“One, you and I both know God is a bum who could hardly grant himself a five dollar bill. And two, no, I was a normal child who got her fill of the great outdoors during the daytime, like normal people.” Mingus quips back. Norm shrugs as he finishes setup for the first tent, moving onto the second one as Mingus watches on.

“Alright, agree t’ disagree, I guess.” Norm says. “But that don’t change the reality that you will be sleepin’ outside tonight, unless you fancy sleeping in the truck. So y’ might as well help me out so we can be done before dark.” Mingus looks between Norm and the truck for a moment before letting out a loud, disappointed groan, stomping over to where Norm was kneeling.

“Fine, give me that,” She bites, snatching the tent supports out of Norm’s hands. “You get started on the fire so we don’t lose all visibility once it gets dark. But understand that I am not happy about this.” Norm smiles, standing up just as Mingus kneels down to fuss with the tent supports.

“Heard ya loud an’ clear.” Norm says with a mock salute.

They make quick work of the campground, though not without the occasional hems and haws from Mingus. By the time the last rays of daylight have kissed the earth goodbye, they were set up with their beach chairs in front of a roaring fire, a cooler between them. Norm reaches in and pulls out two cans of beer, one for himself and one for Mingus, who eyes it warily.

“Do you have anything else?” She asks, not yet taking the can. Norm sighs.

“All’s I got is beer, y’ can either take it ‘r leave it.” He replies, shaking the can extended towards her. Mingus looks at the can before sighing herself and grabbing it from Norm, mumbling out her thanks. The two crack their cans simultaneously and take long sips from them, Mingus immediately screwing up her face at it.

“Eugh, I forgot how much I hate this stuff.” She notes, setting the beer on the ground beside her chair. Norm shrugs, taking another sip of his beer.

“Sorry fer not thinkin’ to bring any crime-milk with me.” Norm jokes. Mingus rolls her eyes.

“You know, I drink more than just crime-milk,” she says. “I like wine, and the occasional cocktail.”

“Yeah, well, wine an’ cocktails ain’t as easy to transport as a twelve pack o’ beer.” Norm says, kicking the cooler with his shoe. “Plus, it’d hardly be a camping trip if y’ didn’t settle in front of the fire with a beer. It’s about the principle of drinkin’ it more than the drink itself.”

“I suppose I have no framework of reference, seeing as I’ve never gone camping, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” Mingus says with a shrug, picking her beer back up to take a sip.

“Yer Pa never took y’ campin’ as a kid?” Norm asks with a tilt of his head, causing Mingus to shake hers.

“My father was much too preoccupied with work to do that sort of thing.” She answers. “I suppose yours did, though?”

“Nah, mine wasn’t around.” Norm says, crossing his arms as he thinks back. “Hardly could be considered a Pa t’ begin with, seein’ as he left right as things got tough. My Ma took me campin’ a couple o’ times when I was little, ‘fore she got sick an’ couldn’t go no more.” Mingus looks at him oddly.

“…Huh.” She says apropos of nothing. Norm quirks his eyebrow inquisitively, causing Mingus to shake her head. “Sorry. Just wasn’t…expecting that sort of response.”

“What, that I had a sick mother or a shit father?” Norm asks.

“Well, both, if I’m being frank.” Mingus says as she takes another sip of her beer. “I don’t know, I guess I always assumed your strong family values came from the happy little home life you had.” Norm shakes his head with a laugh, finishing off his beer and reaching for another.

“Mingus, I grew up during the Great Depression.” He says, “My home life was nothin’ short of miserable for most of it. But, y’know, y’ get used to it an’ eventually are able t’ find some good between all the bad. My ‘strong family values’ come from th’ fact that I knew my Pa walkin’ out on us was bad, an’ that I wouldn’t let myself repeat his same mistakes.” Of course, life hadn't gone the way Norm was hoping it would all those years ago, and he somehow ended up repeating his father’s mistake with his own family. But it was hardly his intention, and he was trying to make up for it now by going on this trip. That’s what matters more, at the end of the day--making up for your mistakes, rather than spending an eternity wallowing in the fact that you made one.

Mingus nods, her beer perched near her lips. “I suppose that’s true. At least you learned something from your father, even if it was through his absence.” She takes another long sip from her beer, setting the empty on the ground beside her as she reaches into the cooler for another. Norm eyes her curiously.

“I take it yer Pa wasn’t much of a teachin’ man?” He asks; Mingus lets out a loud laugh at that, cracking open her second beer.

“The only things I learned from my father were that I was not my Pawpaw and that I would never be my Pawpaw, as much as he wished I could.” She explains, causing Norm to frown. “My father was not a nice man.”

“‘M sorry t’ hear that.” Norm says, apologetic.

“Don’t be; I hardly spare a thought his way, nowadays. Much too busy doing more with my life than that sad little man could have ever done with his.” Mingus replies, taking a drink.

“Maybe you should slow down with yer drink there, missy.” Norm warns, pointing to her beer. “Remember we have to drive tomorrow.” Mingus waves him off dismissively as she takes another sip.

“Oh, come on, Norm. You’re on your second, too!” She points out.

“Yeah, but I’m not guzzlin’ it down like I’m tryin’ t’ hide from somethin’.” Norm retorts. “We can stop talkin’ ‘bout this stuff if it’s making you uncomfortab--”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Mingus says emphatically. “I am doing just peachy.”

“Yer slurrin’ yer words a little.”

“Hush,” Mingus holds out a finger while she takes another long drink from her beer. “You were married, yes?” Norm’s face screws up at that, not prepared for the sudden shift in topic.

“Yeah, I was.” He says, a little uneasy. “Mingus, please slow do--”

“Tell me about her.” She says suddenly, leaning in close to him, dangerously close to the fire.

“What, why?” Norm asks.

“Color me curious.” Mingus says before drinking her beer, setting the empty beside its twin on the ground. “I want to know the kind of woman that could make Sergeant Norm Allen drop everything to settle down. You had a child with her, so she must be something special.” Norm eyes her warily, noting the dilation of her pupils and the way she sways, before letting out a tired sigh.

“Fine, fine, I’ll tell ya about her.” Norm starts, “If y’ promise that’s yer last beer for the night.” Mingus looks a little put out at that, but she nods her head in response. “Also, lean back ‘fore you singe yer damn whiskers off.”

“Alright,” Mingus mutters, leaning back into her seat. “Weave me a tale, cowboy.” Norm takes a second to wet his throat with a little beer before setting it down on the ground. Then, he sits up a little straighter and begins to think back.

“Well, fer starters, it’s not like I dropped everything just t’ be with my wife. I was still actively pursuin’ my PhD when we met, an’ she encouraged me t’ keep learnin’ even after I received it. Her name was Betsy; she was…well, she was amazing. A bit of a hardhead, much like yerself, but was also endlessly caring an’ compassionate. She didn’t have much of a family to call her own, so I was happy t’ incorporate her into mine. ‘Course, my Ma unfortunately met her Maker before she could meet Betsy, but I jus’ know the two would’ve gotten along swimmingly. Betsy jus’ had that kind of personality--she was easy t’ like, y’know? She had a passion for people that was amazin’. Loved to go out and jus’ talk to people, get their perspective. She didn’t have a college degree like I did, but was endlessly intelligent. She loved to learn and--God, did she learn as much as she could in her free time. When we got married, one o’ the only things I promised her was that we would keep learnin’ together as we navigated our future. We were married for a couple o’ years before havin’ kids--Betsy wanted t’ be sure I had my degree an’ a steady job ‘fore we brought someone new into the world. When I got the job at NASA, that was kind of our cue to start tryin’. It just so happened to have it that the moment we decided to start our little family that I’d be contacted by yer granddad. The rest is history.” Silence settles between the two after Norm’s story, the crackle of the fire and the distant chirp of crickets the only thing audible for a while. Then, quietly, Mingus shifts.

“She sounds wonderful. You must miss her so much.” Her voice sounds stilted and sad, burning with a regret that isn’t hers to have. Norm looks at her for a moment, the warm browns of her fur illuminated to look almost golden by the fire, before letting out a sigh.

“I mean, ‘course I miss her, but it ain’t the burnin’ kind of longing it once was.” He says softly. “When y’ lose someone, it’s kinda like a piece o’ ya goes with ‘em. The piece is noticeable if y’ spend all day proddin’ at it, but if y’ leave it alone, eventually…eventually the absence becomes a part of ya. Gets easier to manage, that way. Grief is--“ He stops for a second, letting out a tired laugh. “Well, I reckon yer probably the last person I need t’ explain grief to, so I won’t talk yer ear off about that. I know in my heart of hearts that all Betsy would want is fer me t’ be happy. And I am happy! Unbelievably happy. So I know I’m doin’ her right by living on with that piece o’ me missin’, still happy as ever in spite of it.”

“Do you think that’s it for you?” Mingus asks suddenly, causing Norm to furrow his brow. “I mean--It’s a little different, but when my Pawpaw…changed, people asked my grandmother if she would try and find someone else. You know, to find comfort in another, since she could no longer find it through her husband. And every single time someone asked, my grandmother proudly said she would never love another man other than my Pawpaw. That he was hers, and there would never be anyone else to replace him. She stuck by his side through thick and thin, even though he could hardly recognize her most days. Even on her deathbed, she longed for his hand in hers, to carry her on into the afterlife.” Her gaze as she spoke was distant, like she was lost in a daydream, before it zeroes in on Norm.

“Do you…Do you think your love is like that?” She asks.

Norm thinks on it for a moment; is his love like that? He’s honestly never thought of it that way, mostly because he’s been so busy that he hasn’t had time for love in that way. Sure, he loves a lot of people now. He loves Gingi, despite their eccentricities and tendency to eat garbage. He loves Oliver, the little scamp that he is. He loves Karen and how she’s always willing to call him out on his horseshit. He loves Randy, despite it all. Hell, he even loves Bigfoot. Fucking Bigfoot! Who out there can honestly say they’ve grown fondness for the elusive Sasquatch that isn’t pulling your leg!. He loves his life and he’s happy for it, but could he see himself loving someone like he loved Betsy?

The fire wanes, the embers smoldering. There’s a deep sadness in Mingus’s eyes that he’s only starting to realize never quite goes away. But still, despite that, there is an awe-striking beauty to her visage that leaves a burn deep within him. Like he reached down and grabbed one of the coals right out of the pit.

“…Nah. I don’t think it’s like that.” He says at last. His words hang in the air for a minute before he gets to his feet, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, it’s late. Reckon we best get some shut-eye ‘fore we’re up ‘til the crack of dawn shootin’ the shit. Y’ need to get changed ‘r anything before I douse this fire?” Mingus looks up at him, the sad expression leaving her face as she shakes her head.

“No, I think I’m good.” She answers, sounding suddenly very sleepy. “Do you need me to help with anything?”

“I got it. Y’ can go ahead and pick yer tent. Got everything already set up in ‘em.” Norm replies, grabbing the empty cans of beer and walking over to the truck to store them. He looks at her from over his shoulder, giving her a warm smile. “G’night Mingus.”

“Goodnight, Norm,” Mingus says with a little wave before turning and heading into the closest tent. Norm watches her disappear behind the cloth, clutching his gut. He could still feel that burning feeling there--had he really drank that much? It was only two beers.

Well, whatever. He could worry about it after he got some shut-eye.

When he finally settles down to sleep, he dreams of kindling.

---

That morning, Norm awakens to the sound of shuffling outside his tent.

He sits up and stretches, rubbing the grogginess from his eyes. His dreams last night had been…weird. Kind of abstract and hard to follow. Though, he supposes he prefers dreams that are vague and kind of off-putting to actual nightmares. He hasn’t had too many of those since leaving the shack, which is good. Still, his dreams from last night have already begun to fade from his memory, leaving only the impression of something profound he’s missing as he opens his tent to greet the day ahead.

To his surprise, Mingus is already awake and dressed. Today, she’s got on a violet dress with dark purple flowers printed all over it. The dress is loose and flowy and goes past her knees; the straps tying around her neck rather than going on her shoulders. She’s wearing her same sneakers from yesterday, now slightly less pristine looking thanks to the dirt. She also has a wide-brimmed, floppy sunhat on and her sunglasses from yesterday. She must have modified the hat herself because her ears stick out of the top, making the whole ensemble a lot cuter than if they were hidden under the hat. Wait, cute? What the hell is he talking about?

“Oh, you’re finally awake.” Mingus says, snapping Norm out of his reverie. He shakes his head, giving off the impression that he’s still waking up and definitely not trying to shake whatever earwig must’ve been planting weird thoughts in his head.

“Wasn’t expectin’ you t’ be up so early.” Norm says in lieu of a greeting. He exits his tent and gets to his feet, popping his back into place as he does so. “How long have y’ been awake? Y’ could’ve woken me up.”

“And risk earning your ire for ruining your beauty sleep? I’d rather not.” Mingus replies, taking her deconstructed tent and putting it in the back of the truck. “I’ve only been up for about an hour and a half. My back was protesting too much for me to keep laying there, so I thought I’d get up and get started with the day.” Norm watches her flit about the camp, putting things away as she does so. The camp is already half-deconstructed, the heaviest things being left for him to put away. Mingus looks at him from beside the truck, her hands on her hips. “Do you need some time to wake up? I checked what you packed in the cooler and it doesn’t look like you brought any coffee, and I already drank my iced coffee from yesterday.”

“Nah, ‘m okay. Just…gimme a second.” Norm says, stretching his limbs and shaking the last bit of sleep out of his body. “We can go in a lil’ bit, I just need t’ change an’ finish packing up.”

Mingus nods, turning away from him to go wait in the truck, likely trying to give him a bit of privacy. Norm appreciates it, grabbing his duffel from out the back of the truck and returning to the tent. He changes quickly--just a short-sleeved button-up and shorts with the same shoes from yesterday--then starts making work on the rest of the camp. He takes down his tent, puts away the cooler, and checks for any stray trash. Then, when he’s satisfied, he re-fastens the tarp covering all his things and makes his way to the front of the truck, popping open the door and stepping in. Mingus looks up from her phone at his arrival, her sunglasses already off and perched atop her big floppy hat. Norm fastens his seatbelt and puts the key in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life.

“Y’ ready?” Norm asks.

“As I’ll ever be,” Mingus replies. Norm nods and the two set off back on the road, ready for another long day of traveling.

They decide to stop at a convenience store before the highway, stocking up on little breakfast bars, snacks, and coffees for the trip ahead. Mingus’s floppy hat makes her stick out like a sore thumb, but thankfully it’s early enough that only the cashier sees them. The two pay for their things and return to the truck. Norm hops into the driver side, turning to see Mingus waiting just outside her door.

“Somethin’ wrong?” He asks out the open door. Mingus shakes her head, setting her things down on the seat.

“I was just thinking, how about I drive for this leg of the trip?” She suggests, throwing Norm for a loop. Even though he had invited Mingus because she’s one of the few people he knows who can drive, he still expected to be the only person driving during this trip. Something about having control of the situation, or maybe some manly pride that this was his truck that only he should drive.

“I’m good to go, Mingus, it’s okay.” Norm says with a thumbs up. Mingus frowns, crossing her arms as she gives him a knowing stare.

“...You don’t trust me to drive your truck, do you?” She asks, voice flat.

“It’s not that!” Norm says with a fervent shake of his head, suddenly feeling put on the spot. “It’s jus’--We’ve already got a rhythm goin’, here! It’d be weird to mess with it now.”

“We drove for one day.” Mingus points out, still looking unimpressed. “And we have three more days until we get there, and then four more days to get back. Do you honestly expect to be driving the entire time?” Norm looks away, face burning with the embarrassment that he had expected to drive the whole time, which seems to be enough of an answer for Mingus. “Why am I here if not to help you on this journey? Let me drive.”

“Okay, fer one--you invited yerself on this trip. Two, I got it, I swear. Y’ can…Y’ can drive another day. Jus’--let’s get out of here, ‘fore the cashier thinks we’re havin’ some kinda domestic dispute in the parking lot.” Norm pleads, looking around nervously. Mingus keeps herself planted just outside the door, arms crossed and expression flat.

“I’m not getting in until you let me drive.” She says simply, causing Norm to groan.

“I could leave you, y’know!” Norm warns, hand on the gear shift. “Don’t make me do this!”

“Norm. Let me drive.”

“No!”

“Norm.”

“I’m fine, I swear, Mingus, please let’s just--”

“Norm.”

“You can drive tomorrow! ‘R the next day! Let’s jus’ get out of here--”

“Norman.”

“‘M name ain’t even Norman!”

“Let. Me. Drive.”

“FINE. God, fine! Go ahead! Be my fuckin’ guest!” Norm throws his hands down, opening his door and hopping out. Mingus’s face immediately brightens as she collects her things from the passenger seat and carries them over to the driver’s side, ignoring Norm’s glare. She hops into the driver’s seat, leaving Norm to sulkily walk over to the passenger side and get in. He slams the door shut and fastens his seatbelt, looking over at Mingus once the two were inside. “I hate you sometimes, y’know that?”

“Oh, you don’t mean that,” Mingus says, putting the truck in reverse and backing out of the parking spot. Norm crosses his arms and looks away, grumbling to himself.

With that out of the way, the two set off on their journey to California once more, reinvigorated by a good night’s rest and the occasional bit of caffeine. They drive for the first two hours in relative silence, leaving Norm to be the one to fidget restlessly as he tries to get himself comfortable with being the passenger for the day. He finds himself lacking in stimuli, and the early morning wake-up call eventually creeps up on him. He tries to fight it off for a bit, not wanting to leave Mingus alone with the road for that long, but it proves futile.

Though, he thinks as his eyes begin to slip shut, he supposes she can handle herself for a bit.

Yeah, she’ll be fine. It’s just driving in a straight line.

Yeah…

…

…

…

“Phone-God DAMNIT!” Norm jerks awake at the sound of Mingus’s yell, immediately on high alert. Has something happened? Did they crash? Are they dead? Norm doesn’t feel dead, though he guesses most people don’t feel dead when they die. He looks around to see them still driving, which is a good sign.

“Jesus Christ, Mingus, y’ scared the shit out of me.” Norm says, looking over to see her white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel. Uh oh, that’s never a good sign.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just this fucking Prius that keeps passing me just to slow down in the left lane!!” Mingus shouts as if the car in front of them can hear.

“Well, can y’ keep it down? There ain’t no reason to be yellin’, an’ I was tryin’ to sleep.” Norm asks, though the sleep has already left him completely.

“I wouldn’t have to yell if this fucking Prius learned its fucking place and stayed behind me!” Mingus replies, turning the last bit of her statement to the car in front of them. “Honestly, the speed limit is 70! Why are we going 68!? In the left lane!? Is driving etiquette a thing of the past? You’re supposed to drive with the speed of traffic!” She slaps the wheel hard, letting out a noise of pure frustration. Norm suddenly remembers all the times he’s passed Mingus in the city; the way she would pass people shouting curses and blaring down on her horn.

“Mingus, why don’t y’ jus’ pull over? I think yer gonna blow a gasket if y’ keep driving.” He suggests calmly. Mingus shakes her head, practically hunching over the steering wheel as she pulls into the right lane to try and pass this car.

“I’m fine. I just need to pass this person for good and then it’ll be--Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me! MOVE!!!” Mingus bellows at the car in front of her, driving at the same exact speed as the car she’s been trying to pass. “Rotary-Christ, does nobody know how to drive in this godforsaken state?! MOVE!!”

“Mingus, pull over.” Norm says, no longer a suggestion. “‘M not havin’ y’ crash my truck.”

“I’m not going to crash, I just need one of these fucking cars to move so I can pass!”

“Mingus, I ain’t askin’. Pull over now.”

“No, I got this. I--” Suddenly, a pleasant chime rings throughout the cabin of the truck, causing Mingus to let out a frustrated groan. “I swear to Phone-Christ, someone has been calling me for an hour and if it’s Terrence I am going to gut that man like a fucking fish.” Norm plucks the phone off of the car-stand, noting that it’s a number she doesn’t have saved.

“I’ll jus’ tell him yer a bit busy…” He says, swiping to take the call and holding it up to his ear. “Howdy Tango, how’re things goin’ in Dialtown?”

“Tango? No, this is Karen.” The voice on the other end says, and instantly Norm feels himself brighten up. “Does Mingus seriously not have my phone number saved?”

“I’m ‘fraid she doesn’t,” Norm says, looking over at Mingus and deciding against running that line of questioning by her. “Anyways, how goes it, Karen? Not like y’ t’ call out of the blue.”

“Well, I just wanted to check in, see how everything was going with the trip. I figured you would be driving, so I called Mingus. But she didn’t answer the last nine calls I made, so…” There’s the sound of shuffling from the other end before Karen lets out a sigh. “Oh, the others are here, too.”

“Well, tell everyone I say howdy!” Norm replies, an unconscious smile tugging on his lips as he tries to envision his friends all hunched around Karen’s phone. “And no, ‘m not drivin’ right now. Mingus is.”

“Oh dear Phone-God, are you okay?” Karen asks, “I’ve seen her drive around the city and it isn’t pretty.” Norm laughs a little awkwardly, flitting his eyes over to the furious figure at the wheel.

“She’s not that bad.” He half-heartedly tries to defend, more for the sake of his own pride rather than Mingus’s. And yet, somehow, he can still feel Karen’s unimpressed stare through the phone.

“I’ve seen her cuss out a kid for taking too long to cross the street.” Karen says flatly. “And it wasn’t even Little Billy.”

“Puss Puss is mean on the streets!” Oliver’s voice sounds from a distance, sounding even farther through the phone. “I’ve seen her drive on the sidewalk just to pass somebody!”

“Y-Yeah, it’s not pretty…” Randy’s voice chimes in, sounding unsure as always. “I see her purple sports car pass by the Funfair sometimes, a-and it always makes me hide under the counter just in case she decides t-to drive directly through the gates.”

“You know a cat’s hearing is extremely sensitive, right?” Mingus pipes up, causing Norm to look at her in surprise. “If you’re going to talk shit, I’d appreciate it if you did it on speaker phone so I don’t have to dedicate precious brain power to focusing on it--oh my Phone-God if this fucking TROGLODYTE doesn’t get off the PHONE-GODDAMN ROAD--”

“Anyways, ‘s not all bad.” Norm says, trying to direct conversation somewhere else. “We’re makin’ really great time, by the looks of Mingus’s fancy navigation app.”

“Oh, you’re using her phone for directions?” Karen asks, “I thought you had printed them out. Isn’t that why you called me the night before? ‘Cause you couldn’t figure out your printer and needed me to walk you through it?” Norm feels his face flush and he dutifully avoids Mingus’s knowing gaze.

“W-Well--Yes, I printed them out. Mingus thought it’d be more convenient t’ have the directions on the phone.” He explains, scratching the back of his neck a little sheepishly. He can hear Karen snicker on the other end and flushes more. “H-Hey, don’t--don’t laugh at me, y’know I’m not that well-versed in all this technological horseshit.”

“Didn’t you work for NASA?” Karen asks.

“...Irrelevant.” Norm mumbles. “How’re things goin’ in Dialtown? Tango doin’ his job?”

“Oh, it’s great, actually. He’s actually doing a lot to--” Karen is cut off by the sound of a struggle, the phone sounding like it clattered to the floor before it’s scooped up. “No, Gingi, don--”

“HELLO MY BELOVED NORM I’VE MISSED YOU.” Gingi’s voice blares through the speakers, causing Norm to jerk the phone away from him. Mingus’s ears flatten as she lets out a labored sigh. Still, Norm finds himself smiling fondly as he brings the phone a little closer to him again.

“Hi Gingi. I miss y’ too, buddy. How’re th’ kids doin’?”

“Oh, the Ginglings are fine. They’re scampering, scrounging, and being general nuisances just like their Papa. I couldn’t be more proud.” Gingi says, and Norm could just picture them wiping a tear away, despite the fact that they do not have eyes to weep with. Mingus looks over at the phone with a sneer.

“The Ginglings? Really?” She repeats incredulously before letting out a tired sigh. “I knew I should’ve taken their ass to court over that. It is a clear infringement on my copyright.”

“Might I remind y’ that the last time Gingi was in front of a judge, they sprayed on ‘em?” Norm reminds her, to which she sighs again.

“And I’d do it again.” Gingi says, their voice taking on a serious tone. Knowing them, Norm believes it one-hundred percent.

“Alright, taking the phone back.” Karen says just before the sound of hissing and spitting comes through the phone. “We just wanted to check in and make sure you weren’t dead.”

“Well, I ‘preciate it, Karen. Y’ give th’ others my well wishes now, would y’?”

“I will. Try not to die. Goodbye.” With that, the line goes dead, leaving Norm and Mingus in the car once again. Norm sets Mingus’s phone back on its stand and leans back in his chair, smiling contentedly.

“That was nice. Was good t’ hear from ‘em.” Norm notes.

“Yes, I enjoyed the part where they insulted my driving skills.” Mingus says sarcastically, causing Norm to let out a snort.

“Well, yer hardly th’ beacon o’ safe drivin’, given how yer hunched over the wheel like it’ll run from ya if yer not towering over it.” He replies, pointing to how she’s sitting. Mingus immediately course-corrects, sitting normally in her seat and holding the steering wheel like a regular person.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She says inconspicuously. Norm rolls his eyes, but decides not to argue about it further, content to let the moment go. The drive is, once again, calm; the pleasant rumble of the engine singing a sweet tune to Norm as he leans back in his chair. It seems like everything will be smooth sailing from here, just so long as--

“I swear to PHONE-CHRIST I will ram this truck into your ASS if you don’t GET OUT OF MY--”

Yeah. The next few hours are interesting, to say the least.

---

Approaching the halfway point in their journey, Norm can say that things have been going pretty good so far. Mingus, after a few more outbursts, calms down and is able to drive them smoothly (and safely) through the rest of the day. Norm spends most of his day either watching out the window or conversing with Mingus. They have enough snacks to get them through most of the day, though they still pull off the highway to grab dinner once it got to be about that time. It’s after that they decide it’s time to start looking for somewhere to stop.

“Somewhere inside.” Mingus warns as they refuel the truck. “I am not going to spend another night out in the wilderness, thank you very much.”

So they set off to find a place to sleep. There are a couple of budget hotels and motels around where they got dinner, so they decide to try there first. Unfortunately, none of the places around had any available rooms. So they hop back on the highway to try the next exit, hoping for another few places to try. It takes them a while to find another exit advertising somewhere to sleep, but when they reach it they run into the same problem--no available rooms. So they try again.

And again.

And again.

Until the moon is already hung high in the sky and Norm is starting to consider sleeping in the truck. They decide to try one last spot; a motel Mingus had found whilst frantically Googling at their last stop. When they pull up to the place, Norm notes how run down the place looks. Mingus must’ve been desperate when she suggested going here. They both decide to get out and walk into the tiny front office building, alerting the woman at the front desk who had been dozing at her seat. Norm steps up to the counter ahead of Mingus, putting on his best smile (which is covered completely by the paper bag).

“Howdy,” he greets. “We were hopin’ y’all had any available rooms here tonight. My, uh, friend and I were lookin’ for a place to stay.” The front desk associate nods her head and begins typing on a big computer, just as Mingus elbows him in the gut. “Ow--what was that for?”

“Why did you put so much emphasis on the word friend?” Mingus whispers harshly. “You made it sound weird.”

“I did not make it sound weird.” Norm whispers back. “Would you have rather I called you my business associate?”

“No, that’s weirder! That definitely makes it sound like I’m your dark mistress you’ve stolen away for a cheap night on the town.”

“Dark mistress? Why th’ hell would you be my dark mistress?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be your regular mistress. I’m too mysterious for that.”

“Now am I meant t’ believe th’ difference between a dark mistress and a regular mistress is the amount of mystique th’ individual provides to the situation?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, thanks for clarifyin’. Now, back to th’ topic at hand--why would the front desk lady assume you are my dark mistress?”

“Um, excuse me?” The front desk associate speaks up. Norm’s head snaps to look at her; she radiates with a kind of annoyance only someone working front desk could get. Norm rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, thankful the bag hides his flush.

“My apologies, ma’am. My dark mistr--I mean my friend and I have had a long day, is all.” Norm says apologetically. The woman doesn’t acknowledge his slip-up in the slightest and simply refers to her computer.

“There’s one available room tonight, it would seem. Would that be okay for you and your…friend?” She states. Norm opens his mouth to respond but is stopped by Mingus stepping forward and placing both hands down on the counter.

“Are you sure there’s no other rooms?” She asks. “We can pay very handsomely for it, so there’s no need to worry about money.” The front desk associate shakes her typewriter head, once again referring to her computer for the information.

“It’s not about money, ma’am. We only have the one room available.” She says flatly. “Now, would you like to book this room, or…?”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else available?” Mingus asks, putting extra emphasis on her words. “I’ve got a crisp Phonelysses S. Gramaphone waiting for you in my car if you could just somehow find us another room.” The front desk associate looks between her computer and Mingus before letting out a long-suffering sigh.

“Ma’am, as much as I would like to be bribed--and trust me when I say I do--there are quite literally no other rooms other than the one I have advertised to you that are not currently occupied with people. Now, would you like to book this room and ensure you have a place to sleep, or would you like to try and bribe the next motel employee within a 25 mile radius of here?” She says with her best “this is customer service so I can’t call you a bitch but just know I am thinking it” voice. Mingus’s hands ball up into fists and she frowns.

“Now listen here you underpaid neanderthal--”

“We’ll take the room!” Norm cuts Mingus off, gently shoving her aside to pull out his wallet. The front desk associate doesn’t say anything to either of them as she processes the transaction; the only thing she offers is a polite wave after she hands Norm the keys to their room. The two exit the front office, standing in the warm night air for a moment.

“Well, she was rude.” Mingus says, making her way over to the truck to retrieve her things. Norm sighs as he follows suit, pulling his duffel from the bed and closing it with a slam.

“Y’ called her a neanderthal.” He points out, slinging his duffel over his shoulder. Mingus scoffs as she approaches Norm from the passenger side, rolling her suitcase behind her.

“She wouldn’t take my bribe! What kind of an idiot do you have to be to not accept a fifty dollar bill?” Mingus asks as the two pass by several rooms on the way to theirs. Norm sighs.

“The kind that values their integrity. And the kind that ain’t got another room t’ offer.”

“Oh please. I know how those businesses run. They only keep a certain number of rooms ‘open’ so they can sell them at an upcharge without hiring the necessary amount of cleaning staff to maintain the entire motel.” Mingus says just as they stop at their room number. “You know, it’s a rather good business practice, and normally I would commend it. But not when it inconveniences me and my precious eight hours of sleep.”

Norm puts the key in the lock and turns, opening the door as he does so. “Well, you’ll get yer eight hours jus’ fine in this…” The door hangs open for a second, allowing Mingus to curiously peep in and see what Norm is seeing:

A room. Fairly decent size for what they paid for. A tiny kitchenette and a door leading into the bathroom. Carpets that are probably in desperate need of a wash. Wallpaper that’s peeling in spots.

And only one bed; queen-sized, perfect for two people.

The two stare at the room in stunned silence. Then at each other. Then back at the room.

“…Huh.” Norm says at last. “I-I had thought they woulda put us in a room with two twins. ‘R maybe somethin’ with a pullout futon. Not a--”

“Room with only one bed?” Mingus finishes for him, ears twitching. “Truthfully, I had thought the same. I suppose that’s what happens when beggars can’t be choosers. You get whatever’s left.” Norm elects not to tell her she just used a phrase that was one of Randy’s go-tos and instead steps into the room. Mingus lingers in the doorway, head turning back to the truck as if that’s even an option. Though, the both of them know it isn’t if they want to keep going at a reasonable pace on their trip.

“C’mon, Mingus. Yer gonna let bugs in.” Norm says, motioning for her to come inside. Mingus bristles but ultimately steps into the room, shutting and locking the door behind her. Leaving the two adults to stand and stare at the bed.

A beat.

“Um. I can take the floor.” Norm offers, jutting a thumb behind him. “I could always grab a sleepin’ bag from th’ truck. I don’t mind it honestl--”

“Norm,” Mingus cuts him off, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s fine. We’re not fifteen--we can share a bed.”

“Are y’ sure? I’d be okay on th’ floor--”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Mingus kneels down to open her suitcase, pulling a pair of pajamas from it along with her toiletries bag. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get changed and get ready for bed. I suggest you do the same.” Then, she stands and makes her way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her with a firm swing.

Norm stands there dumbfounded before he gets his bearings, sitting on the bed with a loud creak. He rifles through his duffel for an outfit for the next day--another shirt and shorts combo that he leaves on the floor beside the bed. Then he just…sits there. It’s quiet, save for the sound of running water in the other room. Norm feels every ache and protest in his bones as he adjusts himself; a testament to the long journey he’s been on. He’s not even that old but he feels weary beyond his years in that singular second. Then, he shakes his head, returning to reality.

He rifles through his bag until he finds what he’s looking for; the folder containing his daughter’s information. He opens it and looks at the little photo of her in the corner. She’s wearing a yellow button up shirt with shiny white buttons. Her head is a yellow typewriter with white keys. Seems she prefers color coordination, or maybe her favorite color is yellow? Now that he’s thinking about it, he doesn’t even know what his daughter’s favorite color is. Or what food she likes. Or her favorite season. The last time he had seen her, she was too small to have these things figured out. She was just a baby--tiny enough to fit in his arms. She’s a woman now; one with her own job, her own stories, her own life.

Will she even recognize him when they meet?

“Norm?” Mingus’s voice breaks him out of his trance, and he turns to see her standing beside him. Her hand is outstretched, like she was going to touch him on the shoulder but hesitated. She’s dressed in a pair of simple violet silk pajamas and her face is scrunched up with concern. It’s only at that moment does he realize the tear rolling down his cheek.

“Ah--Sorry ‘bout that.” He laughs wetly as he wipes at his face. “I was jus’--never mind, are y’ done in there?” He gets up before she can say anything, brushing past her and making a beeline for the bathroom. He quickly shuts the door behind him, leaning against it once he’s safe within its confines. He lets out a shaky breath and looks at himself in the mirror. His eyes are red and wet, with tear streaks going down his face. With a shake of his head, he turns on the faucet and splashes water in his face to make it look like he actually came in here to do something. By the time he’s reopened the door, Mingus is already laying down in bed, absently scrolling on her phone. She looks up and the two make pointed eye contact.

“Are you…” She trails off, seemingly deciding whether or not she wants to ask what she wants to ask. “You’re not changed for bed.” Is what she ends up on, and for once Norm is grateful for her general aversion to feelings talk.

“It slipped m’ mind.” Norm says, pulling his shirt and tank top off with swift motion. He then moves to his shorts, which is about the time he realizes Mingus is still staring. He looks up at her and she jumps, burying her face in her phone. He snickers as he pulls off his shorts, collecting his discarded clothes and walking over to his duffel to put them away.

“Y’ like what you see?” He says with a teasing wink, Mingus immediately stiffens, her ears shooting up high as her whiskers twitch.

“You--I was still talking to you, and you just took your shirt off with no warning!! How was I supposed to--Are you going to sleep in just your underwear?!” She squawks, causing Norm to laugh. He sits on the other end of the bed, stuffing his shirt and tank top into his bag.

“Well, typically I sleep naked, and I figured you didn’t wanna see that, so yeah. I’m sleepin’ in my boxers.” He explains, which somehow makes Mingus even more stiff, causing him to laugh again. “Aw, come on, Puss Puss. Weren’t you th’ one who said we’re not fifteen?”

“Okay, one, call me that again and I gut you like a fucking fish. Two, I did say that, but I--I just wasn’t expecting--” She sighs sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Whatever. You’re getting a kick out of this, anyway, so I’m just going to ignore you and move on from this.” Norm shakes his head amusedly.

“Whatever you say, Mingus.” He says, moving the blankets so he can climb into bed. He slips under the covers, noting immediately just how tight of a fit this is going to be. Sure, a queen sized bed can fit two people, provided those two people are roughly the same size. But Norm has a good few inches on Mingus in height and width, and Mingus herself is occupying a good three quarters of the bed just by existing in it. “C’mon now, y’ can’t hog the space. Scooch over.”

“Me? Scooch over? I’m smaller than you! You have room.” Mingus retorts, setting her phone on the nightstand beside her.

“No, I don’t have room. Yer takin’ up most of the bed like a damn cat.”

“Oh, I get it. Being speciesist again, now are we?”

“Yer not a cat, y’ just got a cat head! Now scoot over.”

“No.”

“Mingus.”

“Fine, fine! Rotary-Christ, you’re needy.” She mutters as she moves over, giving Norm the necessary space to lay down. The two are laying shoulder-to-shoulder on the bed, and while it isn’t the most ideal scenario, it’s at least comfortable. Norm reaches over to flick off the lamp on his bedside table, bathing the whole room in inky darkness.

“G’night, Mingles.” Norm mutters.

“Goodnight Norm.” Mingus replies before turning onto her side, facing away from him. Norm lays there for a moment or two, his mind slowly coming to a halt. Then, he peacefully drifts off to sleep.

He dreams of a low flame, burning dimly in the night.

---

Norm wakes up that morning with an elbow in his face and a foot in his gut, Mingus snoring peacefully. He sighs.

---

Once they’re out of the motel and have handed their keys back to a brand new front desk associate (one that’s a lot more chipper and didn’t have to witness them bicker like an old married couple), they pile back into the truck and get a move on. Norm decides to drive today, as his heart can’t bear another day of Mingus-driving, and luckily they’re both amicable to the idea. With a clear path ahead and a good night’s rest, Norm feels lighter than air. He even lets Mingus turn on the radio, and the two playfully bicker over what station to listen to before settling on a channel of mostly 80’s rock. Though neither of them are that familiar with the songs, there is still some attempt at car-karaoke, which Mingus lets Norm know he’s terrible at. It all filters into a pleasant morning that Norm wouldn’t trade for the world. Surprisingly, Mingus is rather good company when she isn’t trying to be the absolute worst.

Or maybe…

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye--catching the way the light reflects off the brown of her fur, the white of her teeth, the crinkle of a smile in her eyes--

…Maybe his perspective has changed?

“Hey,” Mingus says, pulling Norm from his frankly bizarre thoughts and forcing him to pay attention to her. She’s pointing at a sign they just passed, still smiling that same smile. “Did you see that sign we passed?” Norm shakes his head, trying to ignore why his mind is suddenly so fixated on smiles. “It advertised The World’s Largest Pickle.”

“No kiddin’, huh?” Norm says with a smile. “How far did it say it was?”

“Fifteen miles.”

“Welp. Guess we’ll be takin’ a trip to see Th’ World’s Largest Pickle, eh?”

“Are you sure? I doubt it’s worth it.” Mingus says, to which Norm gives her a playful elbow in the shoulder.

“C’mon, Mingus! When are we ever gonna get th’ chance t’ see The World’s Largest Pickle again?” He teases.

“You know it’s going to be a giant structure--likely made out of trash--that simply looks like a giant pickle, right?” Mingus asks with a quirked brow. Norm nods his head, causing Mingus to sigh. “Alright, I guess we can take a quick pit stop. But just for a few minutes, okay? I wouldn’t want us to lose a day’s worth of progress over a giant pickle.”

“Alrighty!” Norm whoops, punching the ceiling of the truck in his excitement. “Next stop: World’s Largest Pickle!”

They drive the prerequisite fifteen miles, chatting amicably and pontificating on the pickle, before finally reaching the exit they needed to get off on. From there, signs posted on either side of the street guide the two to where they need to go. Norm has never been much of a man of novelty, but something like this just has to be appreciated. After all, only in the great country of America can someone dream of erecting a giant statue of a vinegary vegetable and have that dream come true. Fuck Disney World and all those other bullshit theme parks; the real attractions come from places like this.

Finally, Norm spots it at a distance, its green visage visible even from a mile or so away. Norm reaches out and grasps Mingus’s shoulder, causing the woman to look up from where she had been idly inspecting her nails.

“Lookit,” He breathes out, chest filling with honest, American pride. “There it is…”

“Oh, wow. That sure is a giant pickle.” She replies, nodding her head as she takes in the sight.

“Ain’t it somethin’…”

“It, uh…It sure is.”

“Really brings a tear to yer eye, don’t it?”

“Uh…no? Norm, are you okay?”

Norm doesn’t say anything in response, content to just gaze at the pickle as they finally pull into the lot. Mingus watches him, concerned for a moment, before shrugging and letting it be.

The World’s Largest Pickle is, as it turns out, just a giant statue of a pickle made out of trash and painted green. But it’s been here for years and has gathered thousands upon thousands of visitors to gaze upon it. There are quite a few people there when they pull up; the majority of which look to be tourists, just like them, though there are a few scattered locals that Norm manages to get some pickle lore out of. The statue was erected sometime in the eighties and has been around ever since, carefully maintained by the same family of honest pickle folk. Norm takes in the beauty of the pickle for a good, long time; chatting with fellow tourists and snapping a couple of blurry pictures on his shitty flip phone. By the time he realizes he has no idea where Mingus is, over an hour has passed, and he blindly wanders into the giftshop in search of her.

Luckily, he finds her carefully inspecting a snowglobe with a tiny replica of the giant pickle inside. She’s so taken by the thing she doesn’t notice Norm approach, and he’s able to take the second to watch. She shakes the globe and watches the fake snow kick up around the giant pickle, an amused smile on her lips as she does it again. Her hazel eyes are twinkling with an odd kind of glee, and it occurs to Norm that he’s never seen her so taken by an object. Her office hardly has any things of emotional significance, save for the large portrait of her grandfather. Does Mingus have a soft spot for knickknacks? Something about it makes a fond smile spread across Norm’s face, though hidden by the paper bag.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout takin’ that home?” Norm asks, surprising the woman. She very nearly drops the snowglobe, but is able to maintain her grip on it as she looks at Norm in shock. Her ears twitch nervously and she sets the snowglobe back with its brethren.

“I was just looking,” She says quickly, turning her body away from the snowglobes to face him. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“Y’know, you should get one.” Norm replies, reaching over to tap one of the snowglobes. “Y’ seemed awfully enamored with it.” Mingus glances between him and the snowglobes, laughing nervously.

“I was just bored! It’s nothing! It’s not like I have a novelty snowglobe collection at home or anything, haha!” Mingus’s voice jumps up three octaves before the reality of what she said hits her, causing her to slap a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t say that. You didn’t hear that.” Norm crosses his arms with an appreciating nod.

“Right, so I definitely did not hear that y’ have a novelty snowglobe collection back at yer homestead? ‘S that right?” Norm asks playfully, causing Mingus to let out an embarrassed groan.

“If you ever tell anybody that I will skin you alive, understand this.” She threatens with a single finger jabbed toward him. Norm holds his hands up in defeat, letting out a small chuckle as he does so.

“Yer secret’s safe with me.” Norm says. “Now, ‘s there anything else y’ had yer eye on?”

“No, just this.” Mingus says, sounding slightly defeated as she reaches for her precious snowglobe, carefully cradling it in her hands. “You should check out the rest of the store, though. It’s quite interesting.” Norm nods and leaves Mingus to her snowglobe, glancing around at all the goodies for sale. She’s right, there are some interesting things being sold; from pickle plushes to pickle-flavored soda, the whole store is decked out in novelty pickle gear. He passes by a wrack of dancing pickle animatronics when he spots something of interest; a clothing rack covered in “I Visited The World’s Largest Pickle” t-shirts. Norm feels a devious smile spread across his lips as he turns around in search of his companion.

He finds her in line waiting to check out. She’s currently wearing a wine-purple blouse with bell-shaped sleeves that cinch at the wrist, along with a pair of white flared dress pants and white sandals.

But soon, this shall change.

“Pst, Mingus.” He whispers to her, causing her to turn and look at him curiously. “What size shirt are y’?” Mingus cocks her head to one side.

“A medium; why?” She asks before realization dawns on her. “Oh no. No, Norm, I really don’t want--”

“Regular medium or youth medium?”

“Norm we are not--wait, how small do you think I am?”

“I dunno, yer pretty short t’ me.”

“I’m 5’2 you ass, that’s not that short.”

“Doesn’t change m’ question. What kind of medium?”

“You know what? I’m actually not going to answer you because I know exactly what you’re going to do with this information and I need to stop you before--”

“Imma just grab a medium at random for y’, thanks.”

“No, wait!” But Norm is already walking away, dutifully ignoring the way she shouts after him.

Some time later, the two regroup just outside the store, carrying their souvenirs. Mingus won’t stop glaring at Norm as they walk back to the truck. She pops open the passenger side door and gently places her snowglobe on the floor with her other bags, while Norm runs over to the other side of the truck to quickly change shirts. When he meets her back on the other side, she is frowning deeply with her arms crossed.

“You look ridiculous.” She says flatly. Norm rolls his eyes, shoving the other t-shirt into her hands.

“C’mon, get changed.” He encourages with an amused grin. Mingus looks down at the shirt in her hands then back up to Norm.

“Wh--Here?” She asks incredulously.

“No, not here. There’s a bathroom in the giftshop.” Norm points behind them to the sign helpfully indicating there are bathrooms. “Unless y’ want to just take yer shirt off right here--”

“I’ll just go change, thanks.” Mingus quickly blurts out, turning on her heel and walking exactly two steps away before turning back around. “Wait a minute, I don’t even want to change into this!”

“Aw, come on, Mingles!” Norm whines, pushing her towards the giftshop. “Please? Fer me?” Mingus pushes against him, trying (and failing) to direct them both back to the truck.

“No, this is ridiculous!”

“Pleaseeeeeee?”

“No!”

“I’ll take the bag off and give y’ the puppy dog eyes, fair warning.” Mingus looks up at him for a long, unblinking moment before finally throwing her hands up in defeat.

“Fine, fine, just--don’t do that.” She relents much to Norm’s delight. “I change into the shirt and then we leave, got it?” Norm nods his head emphatically and Mingus sighs before turning and heading towards the giftshop.

Five minutes later, she steps out of the giftshop in her matching “I Visited The World’s Largest Pickle” t-shirt and Norm admires his handiwork. Mingus, looking thoroughly put out, approaches him.

“Are you happy now?” She asks, tone clearly displaying how much she’s enjoying this (not that much).

“Mighty happy. Thank ya, Mingus.” Norm replies, giving her two thumbs up. “I’ll remember this moment fer all my days as th’ moment Mayor Mingus stepped off her high horse t’ have some fun.” Mingus rolls her eyes and looks like she’s about to say something before she just…stops. Before Norm can ask what’s wrong, she grabs him by the arm and leads him towards the pickle.

“Why don’t we commemorate it, then?” She asks right before they approach a couple. One of them has a purple flip phone head with some odd-looking charms dangling off the side, while the other has a standard black rotary phone and is wearing the ugliest shirt Norm has ever seen in his life. The couple turn to them just as Mingus stops, her fancy smartphone in hand. “Hi, would one of you mind taking a picture of us in front of the pickle?”

“Sure!” The guy with the flip phone head says, the other man nervously stepping aside. Mingus hands her phone off to him and leads Norm in front of the pickle a good distance away. Norm looks down at her, surprised by her sudden shift, and sees her smiling playfully as she wraps an arm around him. She looks up at him, a twinkle of mirth in her eyes.

“Come on, Norm. Smile for the camera.” She says with a wink. Norm suddenly feels dizzy.

Still, he turns, gingerly wrapping an arm around her, and poses for the camera. Commemorating this trip with a photo of the two of them, arm in arm, in front of a giant trash pickle.

When they pile back into the truck, Norm finds he can’t stop smiling.

---

Night comes quickly, and with it comes another end to a long (but rewarding) day. Norm pulls into the parking lot of a small motel, Mingus dozing in the passenger seat beside him. He decides to go in without her to see about rooms and steps out into the warm June air, paper bag pulled over his face once more. He walks into the front office and approaches the desk, where a happy young person with a calculator head waits.

“Hiya!” They greet with a small wave. “Need something?”

“Howdy, and yes I do.” Norm waves back as he leans against the counter. “I was hopin’ t’ see if y’all had any available rooms here tonight?” The front desk associate clicks away at their computer and Norm waits patiently.

“Well, it looks like we have a couple of rooms available!” They inform him merrily. Norm heaves a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank goodness. Last night we were tried ‘bout near every motel in the state before we found one with open lodging.” He says with a relieved laugh. The receptionist nods, not sounding the least bit bored with Norm’s talking.

“Are you traveling with someone? I could book you two rooms, if you’d like.” They offer, hands flying to their keyboard and awaiting further instruction. Norm thinks on it for a moment; having the two rooms would be nice, as it would mean Mingus wouldn’t complain. Though, really, she didn’t complain that much the night before. If anything, she just sounded a little surprised. And Norm received surprisingly no complaints from her this morning when they woke up, despite the close proximity.

No. No, this is silly. Mingus deserves her space--the only reason she didn’t put up a fight (other than her attempted bribery) is because she was tired. Norm should just book two rooms so they can both get good, quality rest.

“Nah, the one is fine.” No, wait. What is he saying? “It’s jus’ me and the missus.” Missus? What the hell is he talking about? He should really stop now before he confuses this poor motel employee--

“Oh, wow! Going somewhere special?” They ask as they begin the process of booking the reservation. No, no this is bad. He needs to tell them to stop, to book a second room.

“Yeah, we’re headin’ to California.” What is he doing? “It’s our anniversary soon. Wanted to celebrate in style.” Why is he saying this?

“Oooo fancy! I would love to visit California.” They say with a lilt in their voice. “Paying with cash or credit?”

“Cash, please.” Norm says as he pulls out his wallet. Somehow the voice of reason screaming in his head goes ignored as he finishes the transaction, taking the key from the front desk associate with a polite smile.

“Rest well! And safe travels!” The front desk associate says with another wave as Norm leaves the building. It’s only when he’s outside does the interaction finally register, and he very nearly doubles back. But, stubbornness wins out over logic and he presses onward back to the truck. He pulls his duffel out of the bed and comes around to Mingus’s side, gently opening the door. The action causes her to stir and blink at him sleepily.

“Norm…?” She half mutters, half mrrps. Norm smiles.

“Howdy. They only had one room again. You good with sharin’?” He lies easily, and thankfully Mingus is too tired to catch it. She nods as she lets out a big yawn, stretching her arms high overhead.

“Okay,” she says as she undoes her seatbelt and hops out of the truck. Norm does her a favor by retrieving her suitcase from the back seat, rolling it behind him as he leads Mingus to their room. He finds it with relative ease and opens the door, revealing another simple room with one queen-sized bed. Mingus steps inside, still looking too tired for life, and gently takes her suitcase from Norm. She rifles through it while Norm shuts the door behind them, locking it shut. By the time he’s done that, Mingus has disappeared into the bathroom to change. Norm decides to get ready for bed, too, stripping down to just his boxers once more before getting into bed.

Mingus reemerges in a royal purple sleeping gown a few minutes later, looking thoroughly ready to sleep. Norm watches her approach the bed and move the covers, laying under them without a word. She’s already turned inwards, eyes shut and breaths evening out before Norm is able to turn the lights off. He shakes his head, a foreign fondness tightening around his ribcage.

“G’night, Mingus.” He says to the sleeping woman before flicking off the lights.

That night he dreams of deep reds, oranges, and yellows. A roaring fire.

---

Norm wakes up that morning because he has to pee.

That’s the initial thing that gets him to crack his eyes open, squinting against the morning light pouring in through the window. There’s a weight on his chest that keeps him from moving, but he’s not quite ready to deal with whatever that is yet. For now he just lays there, content to let the morning greet him and slowly wake up.

Okay, but he really needs to pee, though.

So, eventually, the weight is addressed. He turns his head to see if maybe he can spot whatever is keeping him pressed down, and to his surprise he feels a pleasant fuzziness on his chin. He cranes his neck just so to realize, oh, it’s Mingus.

…Wait. It’s Mingus?

Somehow, during the course of the night, she’s gone from laying curled up peacefully on her side of the bed to laying on top of Norm. Her arms are wrapped around his middle, with her face pressed into his collarbone. Hell, even one of her legs is thrown over Norm’s, pinning him there. There’s a soft rumbling emanating from her too, vibrating through Norm’s chest. Is she…is she purring? Can she even do that? There are far too many questions with very little ways for him to answer them that don’t involve waking her up. So, for a moment or two, Norm doesn’t do anything at all. He shifts his arm so it’s wrapped over her, his hand lingering by her waist, and waits. Drinks it all in. Drowns out the questions with the pleasant purrs rumbling from Mingus’s chest.

When she wakes up, she is absolutely going to flay him alive. But, somehow, he’s okay with this.

Eventually, his arm gets sore from the awkward angle it’s at and the urge to pee gets too great. So Norm decides to wake her up gently with soft nudges and light whispers of her name. She stirs after a minute or two, blinking a couple of times as she regains consciousness. It’s only after she’s shifted her head a little and presumably realized she is not laying on a pillow does she look up at Norm, who offers her a tired smile.

“Hi,” he breathes, not quite ready to break the serenity of the morning with his full voice. Mingus doesn’t say anything, her ears twitching.

“Um. Hi.” She whispers back after a couple of seconds, her voice still hoarse with sleep. “Did…How did this…?” Norm shrugs as best he can.

“‘M not sure m’self, I woke up t’ this.” He says quietly. “I figured y’ must’ve been awfully cozy, if yer layin’ with half yer body on me.” Mingus looks away at that, causing Norm to let out a sleepy chuckle. “Aw, c’mon now. I think it’s cute--and I didn’t know y’ could purr.”

“What, I didn’t--” She starts before realization dawns on her and she brings a hand up to her mouth in shock. “There’s no way…”

“There is a way,” Norm corrects her with another laugh. “I felt it with my own chest. You were purrin’!”

“Hush. Just--be quiet.” Mingus says before letting out a tired sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her available hand. “This explains why I had a dream about my arm being chopped off. It was pinned under you.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who scooted over here and made herself comfortable, missy.” He teases. “Plus, yer still layin’ here.”

“Yes, well that’s--” She looks up at him, her words cutting off suddenly as the two lock eyes. It occurs to Norm in this moment that this is probably the closest he’s ever been to Mingus Crown--so close he can see the speckles of green and brown in her eyes.

There’s a twisting feeling inside. A twisting, burning feeling that threatens to swallow him whole if he so much as breathes wrong. And when he looks at Mingus, somehow, he gets the impression that she’s feeling the exact same thing. Both their eyes linger on each other, not willing to say a word, not willing to break this moment. It’s palpable, the tension here. Wound so tight it could snap with just a whisper. Norm wants to break the tension--wants to crack a joke or ask do you feel it too?--but he finds he can’t muster the words to say anything at all. He just…stares.

“I should shower.” Mingus says, breaking the silence. She wiggles her body away from Norm’s and rolls out of the bed, very quickly making her way to the bathroom before slamming the door shut. Norm lays there in shock, his sleep-addled mind trying to grasp what the hell just happened. He brings a hand up to his chest, feeling his heart pitter-patter against his ribcage. What is this feeling? Why has it been coming up so frequently? Is something wrong? But more importantly…

“Uh, Mingus? D’ ya mind if I take a leak before y’ shower?”

…Norm still has to pee.

---

Norm steps out of the bathroom, freshly changed and feeling much more awake after his shower. Mingus, having showered before him, waits on the bed whilst combing out her fur with a long, thin comb. She’s dressed in a simple dark purple blouse with a white, floral-patterned maxi skirt with the same white sandals from yesterday. Norm takes a seat beside her on the bed and puts on his shoes. The tension from earlier has all but dissipated, leaving the two in high spirits for one final day of traveling. By Norm’s (and the directions’) estimations, they’ll reach California by tonight and will only need to drive an hour or two once the next morning. Excitement buzzes inside Norm, electrifying every movement he makes.

“Only one more day of drivin’…” Norm says aloud, smiling brightly. “Lord, I never thought I’d be able to say my daughter ‘s only a day’s drive away, but here I am!” All the time he’s missed, all the memories he wasn’t able to make--that all changes come tomorrow. He’ll be back in his daughter’s life and all will be well again. He turns to Mingus, ready to ask her if she’s good to go, and pauses when he sees the look on her face. She looks almost…pensive, the comb hovering inches away from her face as she stares down at her feet.

“Uh, Mingus?” Norm asks, snapping the woman out of her thoughts. She looks at her hand still holding the comb and quickly sets it down in her lap, trying her best to come off as casual. “Are y’ okay?”

“Me? I’m fine.” Mingus replies immediately, the words coming out in a rush. “Let’s--That’s not important. What’s important is that we get back on the road, right?” She rises to her feet before Norm has a chance to argue, grabbing her suitcase and heading for the door. Norm watches her for a moment, eyebrows scrunched up with worry, before letting out a sigh and getting to his feet. Mingus isn’t really the type to share feelings, and he’s sure whatever has her so concerned is probably minor. Likely just some built-up worry over how Dialtown is in her absence. With that out of the way, Norm grabs his things and heads for the main office to drop off his key.

Once they’re in the car (with Mingus at the wheel, much to Norm’s dismay), they take off for the highway once again. The road is clear with barely any cars out at this time of day, leaving the two alone on the open road. Norm opts against the radio, content to sit with his thoughts for a good while as he watches the world pass him by. For about an hour, things seem peaceful.

Then, Mingus breaks the silence with a question: “So, it won’t be long now. Are you ready?” Norm turns away from the window to look at her; she keeps her focus on the road, her hands on ten and two.

“I mean, o’ course I’m ready. I’ve been waitin’ years fer this!” Norm says easily, noting the pinched expression on Mingus’s face.

“Right. Of course you have.” Mingus says, tone neutral, almost calculating. “She has to be in her fifties now, correct?”

“She’s 58, by my estimate.” Norm replies. Mingus nods, not moving her eyes from the road for even a second. The lack of connection--the lack of reaction--gives Norm pause, his eyebrows furrowing. “Why’re y’ asking?”

“Was just wondering,” Comes her immediate reply, her face still clouded with that troubled expression. “I was just thinking about it, is all. Thinking about the life she must have lived without you there. It’s…certainly something.”

“Okay, now you’ve got me worried. Is somethin’ up?” Norm says, facing Mingus fully. He doesn’t like when she’s not being brutally honest with him, or insulting him, or cracking the occasional joke. She’s been pretty much an open book about everything else thus far; what’s holding her back now? Mingus doesn’t say anything for a moment, her focus still on the road, and Norm is about to question her again when she suddenly speaks:

“What do you plan to do? Once you meet her.”

Norm frowns at that, his concerns not at all addressed by the question. But, well, Norm supposes he can play along for a bit before he gets to the root of the problem.

“I wanna be in her life. So, I’ll do that.” He answers honestly.

“What does that mean, exactly? Be specific.” Mingus prods. “Like, do you plan on moving out of Dialtown? Are you going to make this trip several times a year, if not?”

“Well, I don’t know. Guess it’ll depend on what she wants.” Norm says with a shrug. Truthfully, he hasn’t thought farther ahead than just meeting her. But he’s sure that their long conversation tomorrow will help pave the road ahead for him. Mingus doesn’t respond for a moment, and the silence eats at him. “Mingus, is somethin’ wro--”

“And if she decides she doesn’t want you in her life? What then?” She cuts him off, her words coming out harsh and unforgiving. It genuinely makes Norm stop, his frown deepening.

“What are y’ talkin’ about?” He asks. Mingus doesn’t spare him a glance; he’s getting to the point where he wishes she would just so he could get a read on her. With her face partially obscured by the angle, it’s hard to tell what’s going on in that head of hers.

“I’m just being realistic.” She answers, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel. “I mean, she’s lived, what, 58 years without you? Who’s to say she’s going to want you to suddenly come swooping back in? Maybe she’s already made peace with it.”

“I’m her father, o’ course she’s gonna want me back in--”

“And who’s to say she’s going to even believe you are who you say you are. For all she knows you could just be some--some--some flesh-headed freak trying to scam her for money!” Her words shoot piercing bullets through Norm, causing his face to darken. She turns for the very first time during this conversation, her expression suddenly apologetic as her words reach her ears. “Norm, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just saying she might not--”

“No, no. You said yer piece, now let me say mine.” Norm cuts her off, holding a hand up. “I’m willin’ to do whatever it takes for my Sylvia-Grace. If it means beggin’ her to pull out an old photobook t’ compare her daddy’s face then I’ll do it. But she’s gonna believe me. I mean, I’m the last guy on earth with a flesh head, she has t’.” Mingus turns back to the road, her knuckles turning white as she grips the wheel harder.

“You don’t know that, though.” She says carefully, her words sounding clipped. “You don’t know anything. We traveled four days to get out here on the pipedream that she somehow sees you, recognizes you, and suddenly welcomes you back into her life after spending over half of it without you.”

“If y’ thought it was just a pipedream, then why th’ hell did ya insist on coming with me?” Norm asks, not bothering to hide his irritation. “If--If y’ thought all of this was gonna be a moot point, then why the hell did you help me?”

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do.” Her reply is immediate and harsh, the words sounding like they were forced out of her. “I thought I was doing the right thing by helping you.”

“And what? Y’ suddenly realized that wasn’t the right call?” Norm asks sarcastically. “What th’ hell has gotten into y’?”

“Sense. Sense is what has ‘gotten into me’. I’m thinking sensibly.” She spits back before running a frustrated hand through her fur. “Norm, you don’t even know this woman! She is a complete stranger to you! And you’re hinging your happiness on her!”

“She’s my daughter.” Norm says, his voice getting louder. Mingus lets out a frustrated sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“Yes, she is. But she thinks you’re dead and has thought this for nearly her entire life.” She replies, raising her voice as well. “I’m just trying to prepare you for reality, Norm. I’m trying to do what’s right for you.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask you t’ do that.” Norm bites back, crossing his arms. “I never asked y’ t’ come with me, you insisted on it. The only thing I did was ask y’ t’ help me find her. To have a heart, fer once in yer goddamn life.” Mingus turns to look at him again, expression clearly showing her hurt. Norm immediately feels it, opening his mouth to apologize when she just as quickly turns away. “Mingus--”

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Norm.” She says, tone gravely serious. “I think you’re going to get there and your poor little heart is going to break. And I don’t want to be the one to say I told you so when it happens.” Norm stares at her, feeling his frustration boiling.

“And who made you keeper of m’ heart all of a sudden? I’m a grownass man, Mingus. I can handle myself.” He says, voice sounding harsh and brutal. Mingus grips the wheel with an intensity he’s only seen when she’s at her most irritated and trying to hold back.

“I’m not saying that. Don’t put words in my mouth.” She says slowly, trying to control her temper. Norm isn’t having a bar of it.

“Well then what are you saying? ‘Cause all I’m hearing is waffling and positing when ya clearly have somethin’ y’ want to say. Just say it! Quit bein’ a damn politician and be human for a second!” He shouts, throwing his hands up. Mingus winces at the volume, her ears going flat, but she doesn’t feed into his frustration. She remains a solid rock, and boy doesn’t that make him more mad.

“You’re mad. I can see that.” She starts, causing Norm to let out a big guffaw.

“Yeah, Mingus! I’m mad. Congrats on bein’ Captain Fuckin’ Obvious.” He says sarcastically. “I’m mad ‘cause the one person I thought would understand has just up and told me I’m runnin’ a fools errand, and I’m tryin’ t’ figure out what has suddenly made her the patron saint o’ kindness t’ tell me such a thing.”

“Things changed.” She spits, venom coating her words. “I--This trip changed. I made a mistake, and I’m willing to admit that.”

“What changed?! What in God’s name happened between yesterday an’ today t’ make you suddenly so damn sure this is a bad idea?!” He cries out. “I thought you were my friend! I thought we were gettin’ along, thick as thieves!”

“We are friends,” Mingus says, and boy does she sound broken when she says it. “It’s because of that that I’m trying to warn you--”

“Don’t give me that horseshit.” Norm spits, looking away. “Yer jus’ tryin’ t’ get on yer damn high horse for no goddamn reason. ‘Cause suddenly you realized that I’m serious ‘bout my family.”

“And what about your friends, huh? What about Gingi, or Oliver, or Karen, or fucking Randy? How do you think they’d feel if you just up and left for good?” Mingus asks, her voice raising with each name she rattles off. “Phone-Lord, you have a house! A-A job! A whole life in Dialtown! Are you--Are you just going to give it up? For someone who doesn’t even know you exist?!”

“Oh, I get it,” Norm says with a nod, the pieces coming together in his mind. “Yer scared ‘cause the only good employee y’ve ever had is threatenin’ to leave, is that right?” Mingus turns to him in shock, which only proves his point. “‘Doin’ what’s right’ my ass. You just don’t want yer precious sheriff t’ leave!”

“No! That’s not--Do you really believe I think like that?” She asks, sounding hurt.

“‘Course I do! O’ course I believe the crooked mayor of Dialtown is capable of thinkin’ like that!” He twists the knife in. “What the fuck else could it be, huh?! Tell me, Mingus! Tell yer pal what the hell has gotten into you!”

“You don’t mean that.” She says, voice lower, softer, wounded. “You don’t--You’re just saying that to get under my skin, and I won’t let you win.”

“Win, eh? So is that all you see this as?! A little game you can win?!”

“No, Norm, I--”

“What, Mingus?! What?!”

“Don’t make me say it--”

“Say what, Mingus?! What the fuck is it you’re trying to say?! Prove me wrong, right now! Tell me the truth and prove all my ideas wrong!”

“Norm, I--”

“What?!”

“I just--”

“WHAT?!”

“I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU GET HURT OVER SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THIS.” She screams, silencing any rebuttal Norm was about to make. She immediately seems to regret her actions, a hand coming up to her mouth in shock. “I--I just…I only want you to be h--”

“Enough.” Norm cuts her off, her words having cut him deeply. “You’ve said yer piece, an’ I don’t want to hear it no more. Y’ think me seein’ my daughter is stupid ‘cause you ain’t ever lived a day in yer life carin’ ‘bout no one but yerself. That’s fine. I don’t fucking care anymore. Just so long as y’ don’t crash my truck, I don’t give a shit what you think or say. Just…enough.” A tense silence falls over the two of them; Mingus at least has enough sense to realize she can’t push the issue anymore, her gaze returning to the road. If he hears a sniffle, he ignores it.

The rest of the drive is silent.

---

That night, they stop at their first real hotel. And the first thing Norm does is ask for two rooms.

He spends the whole night in a sleepless daze, tossing and turning in bed. The comfort, the safety, the familiarity of having someone beside him is gone. There’s no sleepy goodnights or teasing jokes about showing some skin. There’s nothing left but to lie there feebly, praying tomorrow would come faster.

The fire has gone dim, burning weakly. Norm feels lonelier than he’s felt in years.

---

He wakes up late.

It can’t be helped, since he spent most of the night tossing and turning whilst trying to fall asleep. He sits up in bed, ignoring the twinge in his back and the ache in his bones from four whole days of driving. The room feels strangely empty and he tries not to let it get to him as he gets out of bed, opting to take a shower since he’s already late enough. Letting the water run over his back, he slowly feels himself wake up. Memories of yesterday linger on his mind as he goes through the process of cleaning. Once he’s done with the shower, he steps out and addresses the mess known as his stubble. With a razor he brought from home, he cleans himself up, mulling over everything.

Today is the big day. The day that changes everything. He’s excited, of course, but mostly he’s nervous. He tries to give himself an encouraging smile in the mirror, something that he might show to his daughter in a couple hours, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He sighs, cleaning the rest of the shaving cream off his face and exiting the bathroom to get changed. He’s had his outfit picked out for this very occasion since the start of the trip; a simple white button-up tucked into some blue jeans with his favorite pair of boots. He nervously checks his hair in the mirror before putting on his paper bag then hat, completing the look. Then, with a shaky breath, he packs up his clothing into his duffel and exits the room.

Mingus’s room is down the hall, and Norm hesitates just outside the door. Should he have texted her to see if she was up? What if she’s still sleeping? Did she have a hard time falling asleep too?

Wait a second. Why does any of that even matter? Mingus should not be on his list of worries today, especially after yesterday.

With a shake of his head, he gently raps against the door. “Mingus? Are y’--”

The door swings open before he could finish his sentence, revealing Mingus Crown dressed and ready with her bag. Today she’s wearing a mish-mash of some of her other outfits--namely, the track jacket from the first day and the white flared dress pants from two days ago with her white sneakers. She has her headscarf and sunglasses on today, and she barely acknowledges Norm as she brushes past him to get to the elevator. They ride it in absolute silence before dropping their keys off at the front desk and departing.

Norm drives. It’s silent the whole way, with neither opting to turn on the radio. Mingus keeps herself leaned as far from Norm as possible--pressed up against the window with her arms crossed. He spares her a glance or two, hoping there would maybe be a moment where they’d lock eyes and he can say something, but that never happens. There’s a part of him that feels very, very bad for what happened yesterday--the very same part of him that shouts that she’s right and that this is a really stupid idea. Unfortunately, his stubborn streak isn’t about to stop now, so he tunes that part of his brain out and focuses on the task at hand. The directions get more complicated the closer they get, weaving him through the city until landing him right in the suburbs. It takes about two hours to get there--two excruciating hours with nothing but apologies coating his tongue--but as soon as the directions tell him to stop it all fades away. He pulls into the empty driveway, full of nothing but nerves.

He kills the ignition, the quiet backdrop of the engine rumbling dying instantly. He hesitates to move, to blink, to do so much as breathe with the tension so heavy between them. There’s a moment where he hopes Mingus will say something--maybe an apology or some kind of explanation--but when he glances over at her she’s just looking out the window, the grip on her arms tight. He sighs, unlocking the truck while he undoes his seatbelt. The door opens with a swing and he’s about to step out when suddenly a hand is on his shoulder, stopping him. When he turns around, he sees Mingus, her sunglasses down, showing her deep, sad eyes.

“Wait.” She says, sounding far more hesitant than her actions show. “I--Just wait a second. Please.” Norm doesn’t move, letting her take a deep breath in and out before she speaks again. “I know what I said yesterday sounds harsh, but it’s true--”

“Mingus, please--”

“No, no, please just listen to what I have to say.” Norm shuts his mouth and nods, giving her the go ahead. “I…I understand you, you know? I. I get the want--no, the need--to keep a piece of what’s familiar as close to you as possible. The whole reason I decided to help you in the first place is because I saw the same struggle in you. In your struggle to keep a piece of your history close, you’re sacrificing everything you have right now and you don’t even realize it.”

“Mingus, I don’t know what yer talkin’ about. Our situations are not the sa--”

“Yes they are. Look, you want to have your old family back. You want to have that piece of your life that you lost back and I understand. When I--When I took office, I swore with every fiber of my being that I would bring back my Pawpaw by making his city perfect again. Like it was back when he was mayor. And, well--you know where that ended up going, right? I did awful things, I said awful things about you, about Gingi, about the city I had grown up in. All because I thought it would…fix things. It would bring back a piece of my family that I had lost. My true family.” She grips his shoulder a little tighter, her eyes boring holes into him. “You can’t change the past. No matter how badly you want to, it is what it is. Your daughter has had a wonderful, long life without you in it. Imagine the confusion--imagine the heartbreak--she’ll feel when she realizes she could’ve had you in her life the whole time, had things been different. Imagine the old wounds that realization might open; feelings she thought she had well and truly buried coming back from the dead to haunt her. It’s not just about you, Norm. It’s about her.”

“Mingus--”

“I know you love her. I know you care. I care about her. But I care about you more. More than I am willing to admit. And I don’t want to see you go down the same path I did just to get your past back. Please. Sometimes it’s better to just let history be history. You can’t change it; you can only move on from it. Trust me on this one. Let’s just…turn around. Go back to Dialtown--back to our home.” Her words linger in the air, the severity of them bearing down on Norm. There is no waffling about here--no fancy language or skirting around the point. This is the cold, honest truth. And, with her expression so serious and grip on him so tight, Norm finds himself hesitating. There’s a moment--a single, solitary moment--where Norm considers her offer to just turn around. To leave with his tail between his legs, this chapter of his life firmly over. To leave with Mingus.

But it’s only a moment.

Norm moves away, Mingus’s grip on him slipping before finally letting go. He shuts the door firmly, glancing up at her miserable expression before turning away, to his future. This is the right choice, he knows it. Once his daughter sees him, everything will fall into place and he’ll feel better for it. He can have both his past and present in his future--there’s no law prohibiting him from wanting both in his life. He’ll prove Mingus wrong; he just needs to get to the door and knock. With calm, confident steps, he reaches the main entrance. His breathing becomes ragged, wracked with nerves as his hands shake. With one final glance behind him, he knocks firmly on the door.

Nothing.

He waits for a minute or so, but nobody comes. He tries again, knocking a bit louder.

Nothing.

He tries the doorbell once, his heartbeat rattling his whole body.

Nothing.

He tries again.

Nothing.

It’s not happening. She’s not coming.

“Sylvia-Grace?” Norm calls out desperately, but to no avail. There’s no car in the driveway, of course that would mean there’s nobody home. It’s not like he planned a visit with her beforehand; she has a life full of other activities she needs to do. How could he expect things to fall so perfectly into place?

How could he expect his wildest fantasy to come true?

Norm returns to the truck without a word, sitting in silence as his castle comes crashing down. He sees Mingus reach out to him before hesitating, her ears down. Before she can get a word out, he puts up a hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. Please.” He says, his voice coming out hollow and broken. “Let’s jus’ head back to Dialtown, okay? I’ve had enough.”

And so, they pull out of the driveway and drive off.

They drive for an hour and a half in perfect silence. Norm’s eyes remain on the road and only the road, nearly unblinking. He doesn’t cry. Finds he can’t even muster up the energy to do so. The journey has worn him down to bone; laid him bare for all to see and pick at. He’s just tired at this point. But still, he presses onward, back to Dialtown. Back to his life. The deranged fantasy he chased so fervently is over. He lost it all in a single moment, and now he just has to live with it.

Maybe Mingus was right, after all. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this would work out exactly as he hoped.

Well, fool as he was, he forgot to pee before they got on the road that morning and it was starting to bite him in the ass about it. He looks over and notices Mingus is fast asleep; her features softened by the dappling light through the window she’s pressed against. He decides against waking her up and elects to pull off at the closest spot--a quaint little diner. Might’ve been a nice spot to grab a late breakfast, if Norm felt up to the whole ordeal. As it stands, though, his mission is simply to use the bathroom and then get back on the road as if it never happened.

He pulls on his paper bag and then his hat before getting out of the truck. There are quite a few cars parked in the parking lot, and from the looks of it the place is jam-packed inside. A woman takes a phone call just outside the entrance, not paying attention to Norm as he politely brushes past her to the door. When he enters, the smell of grease and coffee greet his nose. The place is cozy, with a retro sort of feel. They even have a barside counter for folks to grab a coffee or a quick bite to eat. He scans the figures at the counter in his search for the bathroom sign and his eyes rest on one in particular at the far end.

She’s a woman, looking somewhere between her mid to late fifties, wearing a yellow button-up and dark jeans. Her head is a yellow typewriter with bright white buttons.

Norm’s heart lurches into his throat. His whole world comes crashing down.

It’s her.

There’s an open seat beside her and Norm takes it, settling himself down on the stool and flagging down the waitress behind the counter.

“One black coffee, please.” He says, catching his daughter’s attention.

“Ah, I see someone else likes takin’ it straight! I can respect that.” She says, her voice tinged with that Western twang he’s so used to hearing from himself. Norm smiles and tips his hat towards her.

“You can always judge a diner by how well their black coffee is. M’ Ma taught me that.” He replies, earning himself a laugh.

“Ain’t that something? My Mom taught me the same thing!” She says happily, offering her hand for his to take. “The name’s Sylvia-Grace, but everyone just calls me Sylvie.”

Sylvie. Sylvie. Her name is Sylvie. Oh, Norm could cry right now just hearing her say it.

“Nice t’ meet ya, Sylvie.” He says instead, grasping her hand for a firm handshake. He notes the feeling of calluses on her fingers as they shake; a well-worked hand, that is. Every question in the world sits at the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it all at bay. For now. “I couldn’t help but notice yer accent. Yer not from around here, are y’?” Sylvie laughs again, taking her hand back to rest it on the counter.

“Nah, I’m not a California native. Been livin’ here for about thirty years, though, so I might as well be!” She replies. Norm nods along, taking the mug from the waitress when she returns with it.

“You live ‘round these parts?” He asks, though he already knows the answer.

“No, we live in the ‘burbs, actually! Just stopped by here on our way back from vacation.” She informs him, taking a sip from her own mug of black coffee. Norm leans in a little, showing interest.

“We?” He asks, endlessly curious. Sylvie nods, jutting a thumb behind her.

“My wife’s outside, takin’ a business call.” She admits fondly, shaking her head. “Work can’t seem to leave her alone, no matter how much she tells ‘em she’s not available.”

“I can understand that.” Norm says with a laugh. “What’s she do?”

“Oh, she’s a lawyer. Works primarily in personal injury and workman’s comp.”

“Wow. Must get a lot of work, then.”

“Yeah, she works way too hard. Don’t tell her I said that.” Sylvie laughs again before tilting her head towards Norm. “What about you? What brings you out t’ our fine state? You don’t sound local.” Because I’m your father. I came all this way to find you, Sylvie.

“Ah, jus’ passin’ through.” He says instead. “Stopped for a little visit. Beautiful state y’all got here.”

“Isn’t it?” Sylvie says, her voice full of awe. “I mean, we’ve got so many types of buildings out here. Some older than I am! It’s a real pretty place, architecturally speaking.” She seems to catch herself, waving off her own words with a shake of her head. “Sorry, now I’m thinkin’ about work.” Norm’s face hurts from smiling.

“You’re an architect?” He asks, feeling himself practically burst with pride. Sylvie nods her head.

“Best in the state!” She brags, and by God does Norm believe her. “Always been a tactile person. Wanted building blocks instead of dolls, as a kid. The profession just kinda fell into my lap from there!” He can picture it now; his baby Sylvie sitting in the living room of their old home back in Arizona, stacking taller and taller towers before they’d come crashing down.

“‘M sure that’s not true. Bein’ an architect takes real hard work.” Norm says. “Y’ need a degree for that, don’t ya?” Sylvie nods.

“Alright, so maybe I worked a bit for it. Don’t really matter if you’re doin’ what you love, though, right?” She admits easily, Norm nodding his assent. “I’m awfully lucky, truth be told. I had a mother who supported me the whole way through, and eventually a wife to help me keep going. I didn’t spend years tryin’ to appease somebody--I knew what I wanted at an early age and sought it out immediately.”

“Sounds like you’ve had it made.” Norm breathes out. “Yer parents must be awfully proud.”

“Ah, just my mom.” She corrects, “My father passed away not long after I was born.” I didn’t die, Sylvie. I’m right here. Your daddy’s home. I’m home.

“I’m awfully sorry t’ hear that.” He says with a solemn tip of his hat. “That must’ve been rough on ya.”

“Oh, not really!” Sylvie’s response is immediate, her chipperness unchanging. “I mean, I never knew the guy, so it wasn’t like I was missing anybody. My mom got along just fine raisin’ me on her own.” That response gives Norm pause, makes a piece of him twist up inside.

“…’S that right.” He says almost like a question, nodding his head slowly.

“People always get real weird when I talk about it, I guess ‘cause they expect me to be all hung up over never knowing my father. But, it’s like--why mourn a man I never met? Seems like I’d just be giving myself grief over nothing. ‘S not his fault he died doing what he loved.” She explains, hands gesticulating with her points. “If anything, it just taught me that I need to cherish the little life I have left on this earth. And if I can die doing what I love, knowing I lived every moment to the fullest with my friends and family, then I think that’s a life well-lived.”

Norm nods absently, almost at a loss for words. “Huh…I don’t think I’ve ever thought of it like that.”

“Well, my mom taught me that, basically. She was a woman with very little regrets in her life, may Phone-God rest her soul. I’ve tried my hardest to live in her image.” Sylvie says, sipping her coffee. “Anyway! Enough about that, what about you, stranger? What sort of life have you lived?”

“Well,” Norm starts, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m from Arizona. Lived there for a while, then moved for…work. To Dialtown, Wisconsin. I been there ever since.” His words come out in a jumble--clumsy and awkward as he tries his best to describe as little as possible. “I…I got a good life. Work as sheriff for the city, surrounded by my friends. I got a little homestead on the edge of town that keeps me busy on my days off. Can’t really ask for much more, if ‘m honest.” Sylvie hangs onto every word, very clearly engaged with Norm’s stilted story.

“Dialtown, Wisconsin, eh? Ain’t that where the Callum Crown grew up?” She asks with a hint of surprise in her voice. “Must be one hell of a place!” Norm laughs, nodding his head all the while.

“Yeah, it’s home.” He says, and he finds that he means that one hundred percent. Sylvie nods, clearly wanting to say more, but something behind Norm makes her hesitate.

“Oh, that’s Adriana. She must be done with her call.” She says, leaning away from the bar to wave towards her wife. “I’ll introduce you two! She can tell y’ all about our kids--she’s the one with all the pictures on her phone.”

Kids. She has kids. God above, she has a whole family out here. There’s so much he wants to know, so many things he wants to tell them both. He could spend the rest of his life sat at this diner--just listening to his daughter talk. He wants to; he wants it more than anything.

But something makes him hesitate.

Sylvie has her own life, here. She’s happy. She’s so endlessly, impossibly happy. And yet Norm is not even a blip on her radar. She doesn’t spare a glance back at the unhappy circumstance that separated them in the first place. In truth, she has no reason to. It’s as she said, there’s nothing to mourn if you never knew the person.

What good would Norm telling her the truth do? What does he earn?

The satisfaction of being recognized for who he is? He already knows who he is and is loved by many for it.

The family he never got to have? His friends back home are that and more.

The chance to bring a piece of his past back with him? What good does that do if the person in question isn’t even hung up over it?

So Norm sits there, caught in this moment--caught in the realization that he was well and truly wrong. He sits and he thinks about what his next move should be. He could stay and meet Sylvie’s wife; could reveal everything to them and get all the life’s story he missed out on. He could do that, but…

…But Mingus is waiting.

“Nah, I oughta get goin’.” Norm says, getting to his feet as he pulls out his wallet. He throws down a ten on the counter for his coffee before handing fifty dollars to Sylvie. “Consider this my thanks for bein’ so kind and talkin’ with me. Treat y’ and yer wife to a nice breakfast, on me.” Sylvie takes the money, very clearly stunned by the gesture.

“Aw, really? You don’t have t--”

“I want to.” Norm says, hoping his smile shows through his words. Sylvie looks up at him for a moment before shaking her head with a laugh.

“Well, hey, thanks, mister! My wife and I appreciate it.” She says. “Say, what’s your name? Maybe one day I’ll be able to return the favor!”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. You just have a blessed rest of yer life, Sylvie.” And, before he can change his mind, he turns and walks away. He can hear the sound of Sylvie talking to someone--likely her wife--but he doesn’t turn around to wait. He just slips out the door and back to his truck.

Once inside, he takes off his bag and puts the key in the ignition, the truck rumbling to life. He pulls out of the diner; but before he can pull back out onto the street, Mingus stirs. Her hand shoots out and grabs Norm’s, halting his movements for a moment. When he turns to look at her, he notices that she’s still asleep.

“Don’ do it,” She mumbles, barely audible. Norm shakes his head with immense fondness. Then, he moves his hand so their fingers can interlock.

“Just had t’ take a leak. We’re heading home now.” He says, squeezing her hand comfortingly. That seems to settle her; her head lolling to the other side where she continues to rest peacefully. Norm laughs to himself and drives.

Back to Dialtown. Back to his Dialtown.

Content to live his life as happily as he can. Just like she would want.

---

BONUS SCENE:

---

Their trip ends up taking longer than eight days.

While the way there was something of a mad dash to the finish line, the way back is taken at a much more leisurely pace. They stop in more places, take more pictures, sleep in more one-bedroom motels. Norm has the best vacation he could possibly ask for, with the one person he’d like to spend it with most. Mingus is happy, despite her occasional grumblings about novelty t-shirts and her immense road rage when given the wheel. They spend much of the way back talking, laughing, and living just as Sylvie would want.

When they finally approach Dialtown, some days later than expected, they’re nearly in awe at the city that awaits them. The dense smog that covers the city is lighter, almost gone completely. The streets of Downtown Dialtown are pleasant and not full of traffic. Norm even thinks he spots the Dialtown Mob picking up trash off the sidewalk!

They roll up to Town Hall, Tango excitedly bounding down the steps to greet them. They both step out of the car, meeting him halfway.

“Hiya, guys! How was your trip? Did you take lots of pictures?” Tango asks with that same chipper disposition as always. “Oh, look, you’re holding hands!”

“Tango, what the hell happened while I was gone?” Mingus cuts to the chase, looking around as if the city were foreign to her. “Everything looks nicer. Like the whole city got a new coat of paint, and I know we do not have the budget for that.”

“Oh, I don’t know why it looks like that, I was just doing my job!” Tango replies, tilting his head to one side. “I had to take a couple of very important calls, but I made sure to ask myself ‘What Would Mayor Mingus Do?’ before I made any decisions!”

“Somehow, I highly doubt that.” Norm says, earning himself an elbow to the gut.

“Well, regardless of that, you did…good work.” Mingus says, her voice coming out strained. “I’m…p-proud of you…” Tango practically beams with joy at this, letting out a delighted little squeal that could only be audible to dogs.

“Oh, I’m so happy! You guys will have to tell me all about your trip! Like, what did you--”

“Not now, Tango.” Norm cuts him off before he can get on his spiel, holding up a hand. “Reckon we need a day to recuperate ‘fore we head back t’ work, right Mingus?” He looks to her, who nods firmly in approval.

“Make it two.” She says before turning on her heel. “Bye, Terrence. Keep up the good work.” The two get back into the truck as Tango waves them off again.

“Oh, I will, ma’am! You two rest well! And--wait, you called me Tango earlier, didn’t y--” They’re gone before he can finish his sentence.

---