Road Trip (Part One)

 Hundreds of miles of road were ahead of him.  Nick paused, hand on the driver’s side door handle, the morning sun had just started to flirt with the horizon and bring red and orange up around the edges.  He hadn’t slept well, nervous energy invaded his mind every time rest approached.  The paus was, in his mind, the last chance to veer off of this trajectory.  Letting go would mean allowing his fear to rule; opening the door, getting in, starting the car, shifting into drive: these were the first steps on a path he suspected to follow a difficult route.  

The downtown skyline was quickly receding in the rear view mirror before he allowed himself to unclench.  Traffic was light this early in the day and the comforting rhythm of the pavement under tire helped him relax.  The cascade of city exits faded into the understandable regularity of the suburbs and then to the trickle of the great rural expanse.  By now his roommates would have noticed he was gone, two months rent in cash and a quick note to ease their transition, along with the vast majority of his possessions.  By now his parents probably read the email he sent before packing up his laptop.  He imagined his phone, now turned off and packed in his bag, filling up with messages of concern.

Voicemails from his mother.  She would be confused and concerned.  Although she had released him to independence and adulthood when he left for college, she still harbored that perverse maternal hope that he would return to the nest.  His father might text, if the email address he had was even still good.  They hadn’t spoken since his sister’s wedding nearly 18 months ago and were situated to have that state continue indefinitely.  Charles and Eric, his roommates, had probably reached out, they’d started the year as acquaintances but a solid friendship had developed.  Assorted friends.  More as hours of silence turned into days, eventually weeks.  

Thinking of his phone, Nick realized things were going to be different, really different.  If things work out the way they are supposed to, he would not hear or see those messages.  He will be living life as the citizens of his old life grow more frantic as the days of silence turn into weeks.  Will they look for him?

He was striking out on his own in a way that required a clean break.  They may think of him as a missing person, offer a reward.  They might post pleas to social media, asking anyone with information to reach out, even if they don’t know anything to please share to boost the signal.  Or maybe not.  They could calmly accept his message.  He was headed off to live a different life and he may reach out someday, but for now he sought privacy.  They may wish him well and trust him.  They may move beyond him and quickly grow a hide of indifference to the man that used to be their son, their friend, their peer.

Five hours, give or take, on the road and the gas tank was much closer to empty than full.  The exit he was approaching looked desolate but he thought he saw the sign of a gas station on the horizon a few miles to the south.  He decided to take a chance.  The tableau the emerged was a sad one.  A service station that was barely surviving on the very edge of highway viability, pickups for sale in front of what used to be a mechanic’s bay and pay at the pump wasn’t even an option.

Opening the door, he was almost surprised to not hear the cliche doorbell jingle that these places always had in movies.  Instead, the small store was not big enough for the woman behind the counter to not see the door and everything else.

“Hi, hon.”  It was comforting to Nick that she was as expected.  Mid 60s, voice raspy from a lifetime of smoking, she had a vibe that was equal parts disinterest and a cultivated customer service politeness.  

“Hi, I need gas.  Please tell me you take cards.”  Nick took a step toward the formica countertop, but she waved him off.

“Yeah.  Go pump your gas and then come in and pay.”  She smiled in that trusting way that you can’t in the city.  He was on his honor not to drive off and it made him feel safe, more relaxed then he had in weeks.  Had he seen her writing his licence plate number down on her yellow notepad he might not have imagined this oasis and nearly as idyllic.

Back outside and waiting as the slowest pump groaned through its work he took in the day.  The ascendant sun was warm but the bare trees and fallow fields were a reminder that winter had not come to an end that long ago.  A hawk, or maybe an eagle, he never knew much about birds, flew high over the horizon.  A rusted van rumbled by on the road, headed toward the interstate.  Not even half full and the mechanism seemed to be slowing down.

Nick didn’t plan on being here.  Six months ago, he was finalizing the internship for this summer, looking forward to when life would really start.  He’d grown up somewhere a lot like this, more like here than here was, honestly.  Farm town, thirty miles from nowhere, where everyone knew him and his parents and his grandparents.  He’d been a good student and a good athlete, but he would have excelled anyway because most of his teachers and coaches remembered how good his dad was.  In a town like that, everyone had a place. He excelled, some rebelled.  Eventually, they settled in or they left.  Nick spent the first eighteen years of his life very comfortable in his role, in his town.  He went off to college fully expecting to be back home in 4 years.

The ka-klunk of the pump turning off startled him out of his reflection.  Back inside he grabbed a cola and candy bar before finally approaching the counter.  Barb, she introduced herself, made small talk as she hunted and pecked on the register.  She used to work at the cafe in town until it closed down, she’s been here about 5 years.  “Don’t see too many young people anymore.  Where you headed?”

“Arkansas.” Nick answered.

“Long drive.  You be safe.”  Nick thanked her and began toward the door, it stuck a bit and he leaned in to pull a bit harder.  He stopped himself, he thought about telling Barb more about his plans.  

“I--” He stopped himself.  His credit card, he could be tracked and she could be questioned.  Paranoid, perhaps, but he had been good so far.  Barb held eye contact, waiting.  For him it felt nearly as long as the trip so far, but it was only seconds.  “Bathroom?”

“Round back, hon.  Haven’t been back there in a while.  Hope it’s presentable.”  Barb laughed coming around the counter.  She followed him out, sitting down on an upturned planter and lighting a cigarette.  

Nick tossed his groceries in the car and disappeared around back.  He hadn’t been to a gas station with an outdoor bathroom in years, but he remembered them being more plentiful when he was younger.  There was the door, green against the white walls, “Toilet” scrawled on in marker.  He stood in front of the door, pausing again.  It could be his defining trait, his caution, his need to consider all options before action, but today it seemed to be almost overtaking him.  He imagined this was his destination, that he could step through this door into a new life.  His heart began to race, his breath coming harder, he pulled himself together and opened the door.