The Road Trip

by Alyssa Harris

Quinn watched with utter contempt as an ostentatious RV lumbered down the narrow street and pulled into the driveway. He turned to face his mother with a somewhat pleading look replacing the one he was wearing. “Do I really have to do this, Mom?”

She took a deep breath in through her nose, eyes raking over him in a mixture of pride, sorrow, and guilt, then nodded. “Yeah, kiddo.” Reaching over, she brushed his hair away from his eyes. “Give this a chance.”

He crossed his arms over his chest as the engine cut out and the driver’s side door of the massive camper swung open. “Why? He’s never been in my life and he was barely in yours. Why does he deserve a chance?”

“It’s not about what he deserves, Quinn. It’s about what you deserve. And it’s only half his fault, the not being around part. You know that.” Her eyebrows crowded together as she looked at him with that guilt again. “So don’t be unfair.”

Quinn wanted to scream. He wanted to unload an, are you fucking kidding me? You’re gonna talk about fair? Now? from the very top of his lungs so that the sound of his voice echoed through the whole valley.

Instead he let out a defeated sigh. “Fine.”

Before either of them could say anything else, the man in the driveway headed for the porch, Quinn taking the opportunity to give him a once over. Not that he hadn’t seen the guy before. Sure he was a stranger, but Leandro de Luca was also one of the most recognizable faces in Hollywood. He’d starred in two movies that year, one of which was expected to clean house at whatever tight-ass Academy Award ceremony was coming up.

He was conventionally handsome—polished smile, dark hair struck through with a tasteful amount of silver, a hint of stubble grazing his jaw. His skin had that sun glow that made it seem like he’d just walked off the beach. He looked exactly like he did on the covers of those trashy magazines they stock at the checkout line in the grocery store. The last one Quinn saw showed him holding hands with some model, and it was tactlessly speculating on whether or not she was pregnant.

“Hey,” his famous, absent father called out with a wave, the shape of the smile on his face uncannily similar to the one Quinn’s mouth took when he wore the same expression.

He wasn’t sure if it was more unsettling or comforting to finally know where that trait had come from. Quinn’s smile looked nothing like his mother’s. In fact, the more he looked at the prodigal dad, the more he realized that he was basically a carbon copy of the guy.

“Hi, Leo,” his mom responded, hand on Quinn’s back as she moved to greet the long lost summer fling of her youth.

Quinn eyed him warily as he climbed the porch steps, wondering if he’d ever been cast as a loving, supportive father or if this would be the first time he tried to portray that role. He wondered if agreeing to this weird-ass road trip down to Mexico with the son he never even knew about was simply research for when the tabloid baby came, or if he actually wanted to make an impact on Quinn’s life.

“Audrey. It’s good to see you.” He grinned at Quinn’s mom, his face shedding years and looking more like the photo Quinn had been shown when he first heard the bombshell news about who his father was.

In it, the young actor stood beside a rust-ridden bike with a sign attached to the spokes in the front wheel that read, Cenote del Paraíso above an arrow that pointed the way. His mom told him the photo was from a road trip that she and some friends had gone on when they were in their twenties, and that she’d met the man in it—the man who was currently standing two feet from him—on that trip.

Before Quinn’s eyes could even roll, his mom responded with a, “Yeah, you too.” Then she changed the subject to the reason they were all standing there. “This is Quinn.”

The rest of the introduction passed in a blur. There was a handshake that felt stilted and eye contact that seemed strained. There was a fresh wave of disdain and resentment that crashed through Quinn’s gut as his mother handed him the bag he’d begrudgingly packed that morning, and then, before he could find an emergency exit from this nightmare, she was kissing him on the cheek and sending him on his way.

“Try to have fun, kiddo,” she’d said, giving him an encouraging smile. “I’ll be here when you get back. Promise.”

The next thing he knew, he was sitting in the passenger seat of the monstrous RV, his A-list movie-star father backing out of the driveway and heading for the open road. There was some shitty song playing, and Quinn immediately reached over to turn it off, prompting the first of a few tries by the man driving to break the silence that hung between them.

“Not a Stone Snake fan, huh?” Quinn looked straight through the windshield as his father’s eyes flicked his way, lips sealed and arms still folded over his chest. “What kind of music do you like?” A few seconds passed without a response, so he nodded and returned his eyes to the road. “Well, feel free to put on whatever you want.”

Quinn shot a sidelong glance over just in time to catch a somewhat desperate smile on the man’s face. He pulled a pair of earphones from the pocket of his jeans, putting them in and hitting play on his favorite song, the first few chords filling his ears as the desperate smile faded from his father’s lips.

That little victory lasted as long as the battery on his phone did, and then it was back to awkward silences punctuated by awkward questions.

“So, Quinn. You ever been to Mexico before?”

“Nope.”

“Did, uh,” his father began again a few minutes later, “did your mom tell you about the trip she took down to—the trip where she and I met?”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man nod and readjust his hands on the steering wheel. Quinn wondered if this was how Leo thought it was going to go, or if he had something more akin to the plot of an after school special in mind. Judging by his discomfort with the quiet, he assumed it was the latter.

“I probably shoulda asked this already,” he said as they passed a sign for the border, “but you brought your passport, right?”

An incredulous huff burst from Quinn’s lips as he turned towards the driver’s seat. “Yeah, you should have. Don’t worry, I have it.”

The RV rumbled on as the landscape outside started to change. The next two days went exactly the same way; Quinn intermittently stuffing his ears with music, Leo looking for a way to get his son to open up.

“So do you have a girlfriend? Or,” he cleared his throat, “or a boyfriend?”

Quinn groaned and gave an exasperated head shake. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” Leo asked as he pulled into a parking lot off the highway.

“Pretend to care or whatever. You don’t have to…” Quinn clicked his tongue. “Look, let’s just get through this trip and we can tell my mom whatever you want about how nice it was to spend time with me; I don’t care. But you don’t have to do this whole performance.” He scoffed. “I know you’re an actor but like, you can chill.”

“I’m not pretending, Quinn,” he’d said then, lines gathering across his forehead as he drew his eyebrows together. “That’s not what this trip is.”

“You have no idea what this trip is,” Quinn muttered. Before his father could respond, he grabbed the door handle. “Are we getting out here or what?”

Clearly flustered but trying not to show it, Quinn had to give him credit for not breaking character even after he’d been given permission to do so. Leo blinked twice and answered with a nod. “Yeah. We—this is the place I wanted to show you. Cenote del Paraíso.” 

The photo flashed in Quinn’s mind, and he wondered, in spite of himself, if that same rusty bike was still there, holding up the hand-painted sign. He wondered why the sign post was a bicycle in the first place. Which led to him wondering if his movie star dad knew the story behind it. He doesn’t actually care, he reminded himself. Don’t fall for it.

It was a short walk from the parking lot to the cenote, neither of them speaking until they reached it. When they did, it was Quinn who spoke first, unable to keep a genuine, “wow” from slipping out. He’d never seen a geographical formation like the one before him. It was like a perfect hole in the earth, a sort of vertical cave where the mouth was the sky and the belly was full of the most crystal clear water imaginable.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Leo stepped up beside Quinn so that they were both reflected in the water’s surface. Two nearly identical faces. Completely related strangers.

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, staring at the double reflection.

Leo looked into his son’s eyes through the watery lens. The earnestness in them caught Quinn off guard and made him suck in a breath. “I’m not pretending, by the way,” he said, and for the first time, there was no layered effort, no carefully chosen tone to his voice. It was raw, unedited. “I care. I want to know you.” He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I’d like to be in your life, if that’s—”

“I don’t know you, though,” Quinn stated, finally glancing up from the water to face the man. “You’ve been asking me all these bullshit questions and expecting me to answer them but…” He shrugged, shaking his head. “All I know about you is that you’re some guy who knocked up my mom and then got too busy making movies to bother checking in. We have nothing in common.”

Quinn figured that would be enough to get the guy to quit. Get him to stop talking so they both could enjoy the view before climbing back into that gas-guzzling beast and calling time of death on this failed bonding excursion. But he underestimated the man’s tolerance levels. And his sincerity.

“That’s fair,” the man said with a sniff. “What do you want to know?”

One word jumped to Quinn’s mind, thrumming with his pulse. Everything.

After Quinn had asked about a hundred questions ranging from innocent and reasonable to borderline inappropriate with a few intentionally embarrassing ones thrown in for fun, and after they had all been answered honestly and without complaint, the two sitting by the water’s edge with their feet dangling in, pants rolled up to their mirror-image knees, Leo proposed a deal. “Alright, now that you know a little more about me, how about we go one for one and you give me some actual answers?”

Still wary of getting his hopes up, but finding himself wanting to open up at least a crack, Quinn shrugged and returned his gaze to the water. “Sure.”

Leo started out easy, repeating an earlier question that had gone unanswered. “Are you dating anyone?”

Quinn told him about Amber, his girlfriend. “She’d really like it here,” he added.

“You should bring her, then,” his father suggested.

“Like you brought mom?” Quinn asked. “You gonna bring your new girlfriend here? That model?”

Leo sighed. “Your mother actually brought me here,” he explained. “I’d been here once before that. She still surprised me, though. I didn’t expect her to know about this place. It was very locals-only at the time, but Audrey…” He trailed off and Quinn found an almost wistful look on his face when he looked over again. It was gone as quick as it came though. “And no. I’m not going to bring anyone else here, just you.” He cleared his throat. “My turn?”

Quinn nodded.

“Okay. Back in the parking lot, you said I had no idea what this trip was.” Leo cocked his head questioningly, softening his features without making it look forced. “What did you mean?”

Quinn’s heart pounded in his ears. He hadn’t wanted to talk about this, hadn’t really even processed it, and fully regretted letting those words pass his lips. He took a shallow breath, then another, eyes trying to find the floor of the seemingly bottomless cenote.

His father must’ve noticed the sudden panic, because he reached over and for the first time since their pathetic handshake on the porch, tentatively placed his hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “It’s okay; you don’t have to—”

“Mom wanted me to come on this trip and get to know you because she’s sick,” he blurted, the compassion in the man’s eyes, whether it was real or a really great lie, made it impossible to hold in the truth any longer. “She’s… she’s fucking dying, and she’s afraid I’m not gonna have anyone, so she—” Tears started stinging Quinn’s eyes and he wiped them angrily with his sleeve. “That’s why she picked now to tell you about me. But you don’t have to like… just because she—”

His father cut him off by bringing his other arm up and pulling Quinn into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, repeating it as Quinn sobbed with rage and sadness. “It’s gonna be okay,” he added intermittently. When the wave had crashed and the emotions had run their course, Leo added one more thing. “I meant what I said about wanting to be in your life. I hope you believe me. I’m not gonna let you go through all that alone, okay?”

There would need to be some proof to back those words up, both of them knew that. But Quinn decided he could start with a trial run of trust. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“You know, you said something else before, about us not having anything in common.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, swiping a few errant tears as he did. “Don’t say something corny, please. I can’t take it right now.” He was half joking, half hoping that the touching father-son moment they’d just arrived at wasn’t about to be dashed by an ill-timed attempt at dad humor.

The man from the cover of the magazines chuckled as he stared out at the clouds reflected in the clear water. “Nothing corny, I promise.” He held up one hand like he was swearing an oath in a courtroom, then dropped it to his lap. “I didn’t know my dad either, growing up. He, uh—” Quinn looked over at him as he tried to find the right words to share his story. “He was in prison when I was a kid. Car theft, and probably a bunch of other shit. Anyway, my mom didn’t want him around.” He shrugged. “Can’t blame her. But it meant I grew up without a father.” He turned to look down at Quinn. “So I know what things have been like for you.”

That revelation was a surprise. Quinn always assumed that movie stars and celebrities had picture perfect lives, everything they wanted and needed. It was naive of him to think that, he realized now. Sitting next to one, sharing blood with one, made him see that they were just people.

“I met him eventually, when I was a little older than you are,” Leo continued, Quinn listening more attentively than at any other point since meeting him. “He was out of jail, trying to do things the right way.” He smiled. “He actually took me here, to this same spot.” Lifting his hands, he gestured to the tree and rocks and the cool, pure water of the cenote. “Said his father took him here too, like it was tradition. So when your mom reached out to me I knew I wanted to show you this place.”

“Were you mad?” Quinn asked, and when his father questioned with whom, Quinn realized he wasn’t sure. “I dunno. My mom? Your mom? Your dad?”

Leo sighed, leaning his weight back on his hands and looking up at the sky before bringing his gaze back to the ripples forming around his and Quinn’s ankles. “My dad? Sure. For a long time. I wasn’t mad at your mom, though. Or mine. They were both just doing what they thought was right.” He frowned. “I didn’t go to prison, but I probably wouldn’t have been the best role model for you when I was young and stupid. I’m sure your mom saw that. I was more upset over the fact that I was doing to you what my old man did to me without even knowing it.” He turned the tables back on Quinn then. “What about you?”

Quinn considered the question before answering, staring down at his toes through the water. “I don’t know anymore. I was mad, yeah. At my mom for not telling me she was sick sooner, for not telling me about you sooner. At you for not being around. At… I dunno, at everything I guess.” He shrugged. “But now it seems kinda fucked up to be mad. Not like it’ll change anything to stay pissed off.”

Leo hummed. “That’s true. It’s okay that you were angry though.”

“I know,” Quinn responded, a little too defensively. “I’m… not anymore though, I guess.” He shrugged. “Sorry if I was a dick the last few days.”

That made his father laugh, the sound echoing off the stone that made up the edges of the cenote. “It’s fine. Honestly I expected worse.”

They sat there for a few more hours, carefully peeling away layers of time and learning who the other was. When the light began to dim and it was time to head back to the RV, Quinn made a request that he knew meant something to his father. “Before we go, can we take a picture? By the rusty bike with the sign?” He shrugged. “It’ll be like the one my mom showed me of you but with both of us in it.”

Leo’s face split into a grin that rivaled all the ones that he ever wore before it. “Of course we can,” he answered. “It’s tradition.”