My phone buzzes somewhere on the floor, wherever I left my pants. I spot the glow from the pocket of my jeans. I debate climbing out of my cocoon to retrieve the device. The second buzz forces me to clamber out of my bed and grab the phone before rushing back to my covers. I check the display:
Brody:I hope you locked your door.
Brody:Also, I’m sorry.
I’m not sure what Brody is apologizing for, and I don’t have the strength to ask. It might be easiest to assume he’s sorry for walking away from a situation he can’t fathom being a part of.
I didn’t lock my door because on nights like this, I lose my sense of care for safety, security, and comfort because living by the rules won’t offer me safety, security, or comfort. It’s reckless and stupid, just as all the other poor vices in my life but being reckless and stupid landed my life where it is today, so maybe it’s the only way to end up in the next place I’m supposed to be.
16
At no pointin the past few days had I considered my decision of hitchhiking to be a poor choice. Tucker was a nice guy and had kept me entertained with stories from his years of trucking experience. He didn’t ask much about my life, which I appreciated, but there had been one question he wanted an answer to. Was I running from something, and if so, from who or what? Without offering him a clear answer,he didn't trust me. He wouldn't leave me unattended in the truck and always made sure I followed him to the restrooms or into the stores of the travel plazas. I guess he was afraid I'd drive off with this eighteen-wheeler.
What I learned was, Tucker’s parents passed away when he was young. He hardly remembered them, and he grew up moving from foster home to group home, never being in one place for more than a few months and never being chosen by anyone for adoption. It was hard to imagine a life like he had after realizing how simple my life was while growing up. However, he did not seem to focus on his past. It should have been a good lesson for me to follow, but I also came to the conclusion he likely stayed on the road to avoid planting roots. Essentially, I was on the road for the same reason. I needed to keep moving.
“Two-hundred miles until the Nevada border,” Tucker said, pointing out the sign we had been passing.
“Never been,” I told him.
“You haven’t visited Vegas?”
“I’m twenty.” For another four hours. Birthdays had never been a big deal to me, not like Melody, who lives for the spotlight and well-wishes.
“Well, when do you turn twenty-one?”
I glanced out the window, past the barren land of dirt and spinning hay barrels—a much different scene than maple and pine trees. “Maybe timing is everything,” I told him.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll be twenty-one tomorrow.”
“Get out of here,” he said, slapping the steering wheel. “So, is this like your twenty-first birthday adventure? Trekking across the country with a stranger?”
“Kind of, I guess.” I left home more than a week earlier, and I didn’t consider where I would be for my birthday. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind. Not much had been consuming my mind aside from Adam’s condition. The idea of celebrating my birthday in a nursing facility with an unconscious man didn’t feel like a memory I would want to store, so maybe the timing was a small part of my plan.
“In about five hours, we’ll be over near Vegas. You’ll be twenty-one, and I think we should make a stop and get you a birthday drink.”
I hadn’t had a drink since the night of the accident. “Don’t you have to get to Sacramento?”
“I’m running ahead of schedule. We have a little time.”
Maybe Vegas wasn’t a bad idea. I could even get off the ride there.
“Okay, I’ll take you up on that offer,” I said.
“One condition, though …”
I figured he would want the answer to his one and only question; why I was running away. “What’s the condition?” I asked, hoping I was wrong.
“Tell me the truth. What are you running from, beside yourself?”
My gaze dropped to my trembling hands, resting on my lap. I picked at my fingernails, wishing I remembered my nail clippers and nail polish remover because I had splotches of maroon polish that I had been picking off since I left home.
“The New Year’s before last was about a week after I broke up with my boyfriend. I threw a party because it was my senior year. I wanted a night to remember without feeling the guilt of breaking someone’s heart. I still loved him, so I was feeling pain too. My ex showed up at the party even though I didn’t invite him. To make a long story short, my New Year’s kiss was with a childhood acquaintance in a closet where I thought we were hidden. One thing led to the next, and my ex found us, fled the party, drunk, and drove off a cliff. Now he’s in a coma and has been for about eighteen months. I have sat by his side every day, but I needed a break.”
Tucker was quiet for a minute, probably digesting the story. “Of all the thoughts that crossed my mind as a potential story for your reason of running away, I didn’t see this one coming,” he said. “I understand why you’re running.”
“I’m not sure I understand but thank you for saying so.”
