Revolting Youth: The Further Journals of Nick Twisp Read Online Free PDF Page A

can 14-year-olds marry on their own. Sheeni and I will just have to stifle our matrimonial desires.
    2:30 p.m. On the road to the Bay Area in Trent’s posh Acura. Our driver at last was persuaded to come out from beneath his jacket, break his vow, and propose marriage to Apurva. She accepted with alacrity. While I made an emergency run to the ATM, Trent took the precaution of smearing mud on his license plates. We are now traveling south on secondary roads so as to elude the cops. So far so good. Apurva’s riding shotgun next to her hubby-to-be. Carlotta’s in the back seat studying the Hammond Road Atlas.
    “OK, here’s the plan,” I announced. “You fly into New Orleans and take the bus to Biloxi. That’s on the gulf and probably scenic, as long as you face toward the water. They should have fairly balmy weather this time of year. Be sure to sample the shrimp gumbo.”
    “Sounds good,” said Trent. “There’s only one thing.”
    “What’s that, darling?” asked Apurva.
    “How do you think they’ll react down there to, uh … mixed marriages?”
    “Good point, Trent,” said Carlotta, “I hadn’t thought of that.” I consulted my map. “OK, we switch to Plan B: You fly into Memphis and take the bus down to Oxford. That’s a college town in the northern part of the state. They should be slightly more liberal up there.”
    “Perhaps they’ll have a nice Indian restaurant,” said Apurva. “It might appease my mother somewhat to know that I ate strictly vegetarian meals on my honeymoon.”
    “I wouldn’t get your hopes up, Apurva,” said Carlotta. “Until now you’ve just been in California. You’re about to experience the real United States.”
    5:40 p.m. Oakland International Airport. Smooth sailing so far. We ditched Trent’s Acura in Berkeley in a neighborhood where Cal students often park. With any luck, it will still be there (with most of its hubcaps) when they get back. We rode BART to the airport, and secured two seats on an evening flight to Memphis. I paid for their round-trip tickets by check ($1,537.84!), and even managed to suck another $300 out of an ATM in the boarding lounge. Slipping an imposing $800 wad to the bride-to-be, I promised to wire more money to them at their motel if they ran short.
    “Oh, Carlotta,” gushed Apurva, “how will we ever repay you for your kindness?”
    “Yes, Carlotta,” said Trent, “why are you being so incredibly nice to us?”
    Why, Trent? Because I want you permanently out of Sheeni’s life: once and for all, nailed down, no ifs, no buts. And for that I’m willing to do anything short of murder. And don’t push me too hard on that point either.
    “It’s nothing,” replied Carlotta, modestly. “It’s just that sometimes destiny needs a little helping hand. And please don’t mention my assistance in this matter to anyone back in Ukiah.”
    An announcement was made that boarding of the plane was about to commence.
    “OK, kids,” said Carlotta. “You know what to do. Go to the courthouse in Oxford on Monday. You’ll have to get a blood test, but that shouldn’t be any problem. Don’t let them give you any flak. If worse comes to worst, try offering bribes. Remember: no holding hands in public around anyone who looks like a redneck. They take miscegenation pretty seriously down there. And if you have any trouble, give me a call.”
    “I feel everything will be fine,” said Apurva, happily clutching Trent’s arm. “We’ll go shopping for my boy tomorrow. He’s getting married and he doesn’t even have a toothbrush!”
    “Good idea,” said Carlotta. “OK, you kids have a good time. And, Trent, don’t think about things too much. Just do it.”
    “Just do it,” he repeated. “Right. Live in the present. Tomorrow will take care of itself.”
    “That’s the spirit,” said Carlotta. “That attitude has helped men get through their weddings for centuries. If you have to brood about something, think of all the fun