We walked together to the bathrooms, both with a small bag of toiletries and a change of clothes.
Fifteen minutes later, both of us were clean and dressed for the day, and we set off for San Diego quickly.
“We’ll be staying in a house in San Diego tonight. You can do laundry, shower, and whatever else later.” Some of the truck stops had showers. Not the last two we’d been to, but we’d be okay. She wasn’t bitching, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.
“Awesome.” She cradled a small cup of coffee in her hands, trying to warm them up. I kept the rig running throughout the night, so the temperature inside was comfortable, but her hands must still be chilled. We drove without the satellite radio on for two hours, just listening to the sound of the truck on the road. It was a sound that made me feel at home.
“Did I snore last night?” she asked, no hint of embarrassment in her voice. Just curiosity.
“Yep.” She sighed.
“You’re lucky you sleep so deep,” I told her, trying to make her feel not so self-conscious about snoring. I wish I could find a rest so deep that I snored.
“You don’t sleep well? Shit, did I keep you up more?” Concerned for me, again.
“Not because of you. Just don’t sleep much. I’m good to drive, though.” I didn’t want her to freak out about that. I knew some other drivers that weren’t big-time sleepers. As long as we took the required ten hours break time after driving over eleven during the day, we would be okay.
“Oh. That sucks. I can stay up with you, if you want. Watch a movie or something.” Could it be that I had won her loyalty this much, in this short amount of time? Or was she like this with everyone? The answer to those questions was something I wished I knew, but wasn’t sure I wanted to ask. Her stomach started to grumble, so I told her to take the last of the fruit in the fridge for breakfast. We needed to keep on rolling for as long as we could.
After she ate, she went to work on a new sketch for the day.
I turned on some music, and kept on driving.
About an hour later, I was startled by her shrieking. My head whipped around, expecting her to be pointing at a spider or something that chicks screamed like that about, but she was grinning and looking at the radio.
“I love this song. Can I turn it up? Please?” she begged, and I nodded. Her excitement and happiness from a song was entrancing.
She started bouncing around and singing the lyrics to “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey.
“Come on, sing with me, Killian!” She looked at me expectantly. Had she somehow forgotten who she was in the truck with? Singing along to the radio was not something I did.
“Oh, no. That is where I draw the line. I can deal with everything else—the silence, the one-syllable answers, and grumpiness. But not singing along to this song is un-American. I don’t think I can deal with that type of negativity in my life. You must sing with me.” She continued singing, but this time her attention was directed right at me, her hands moving over the strings of her air guitar, singing like she was Steve Perry himself. I couldn’t help but start to mumble the words to the song with her; she had that effect on me. I would probably do about anything I could for this girl, just to see her smile. Her eyes lit up, and she giggled, watching me attempt to join her.
Soon we were both shouting out the words, and for once in a very long time, I let myself enjoy the moment, breaking past my own rain cloud to bask in her sunshine, just for a moment. She smiled, laughed, and gave the song her all. Livia was an incredible woman, and I knew she didn’t understand just how amazing her spirit was, that she could bring a man like me out of the darkness, even for four minutes of a song.
Chapter Eight
Livia
Idid the impossible. I got Killian to sing “Don’t Stop Believin’” with me. Do they give out medals for this type of thing? Because I feel like I deserve one. When the song ended, I felt like we had bonded there in our moment of Journey epicness. I didn’t even get a frown when he went back to being quiet after the song. Maybe a little bit of the ice on his heart had melted, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe I should start calling him Grinch? My mind was weighing the pros and cons of calling him that. I settled with a no. We weren’t at that level yet. But maybe after a few more days, and getting him to open up, I could pick a nickname for him. We had been driving for a few hours, and I was beginning to feel the need to pee.
Needing to focus on something else, I went back to drawing, trying to ignore the inevitable.
I made it another hour before I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.
“I have to pee.” He looked at me and then back to the road. Ignoring me.
“Seriously.” My voice whined slightly. Driving the point across.
“We aren’t stopping for a break for another hour. Can you make it?” Another hour? Nope. I’d held it off this long, there was no way.
“No, I’ve already been holding it for the past hour.” He looked at me then huffed, pulling off on the next exit ramp—one that had no signs for anything with a restroom. My guess was I was about to experience my first dirt pee as an adult. I grew up out in the country, and surely I had peed outside when I was little and we went camping. But since then I’d never been too far from a bathroom.
As he pulled the truck to the side of the road, I looked at him like he was crazy. The highway was right behind us! My pale ass would probably be like a beacon to all the cars passing by.
“Go.” He nodded towards the woods. Great. My hands dug in my toiletry bag for the biodegradable wipes I grabbed at the store, and I trudged out into the high grass towards the trees. It was moments like this that I wished I had a penis, so I could just whip it out.
I managed to do my business without falling over or peeing on my yoga pants, which I felt was another great accomplishment on my day. On my way back to the truck, I saw Killian buttoning back his jeans.
