The Guilt Trip [slow updates]

[28] Giving Up

"Penny for your thoughts." Wade leaned his right arm over the center console of the vehicle to nudge Skipper's elbow. The sudden contact caused her head to make a small jerking motion as she tore her gaze from the window through which she'd been watching dark grey clouds accumulate.

    "Nope. I sell 'em for a dollar," came her response.

   In one swift, determined motion, Wade pulled his wallet out and shoved a crumpled one at her. "Paid. Now. Your thoughts."

    Skipper stared at the currency in a sort of shocked confusion, unsure what to think now. How was she supposed to tell him her thoughts if she couldn't think? Why did he even want to know? This wasn't like him! Usually, it was the other way around. Usually, she was pestering him for information and attention. Just trying to get him to show more than a frown.

    With a great heaving shrug, she let her breath slowly escape her nostrils. Her breathing came off sounding a lot more labored than usual, and even she could pick up on that. The pieces started coming together when she realized this; since arriving back in America, she had been rather withdrawn the past few days. That was unusual. At least, it would have seemed unusual to him. He'd been respectful about it, but maybe he had noticed she wasn't herself lately. Maybe that was why he was asking about her thoughts.

    Was he seriously trying to find out whether or not she was okay?

    As if validating and answering the questions in her mind, Wade's words gently disturbed the air. "You look so lost. Do I need to pay another dollar to make you talk? I didn't realize you were coin-operated."

    "This isn't a coin." She lifted the dollar and attempted a watery smirk. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to switch on the headlights and windshield wipers as the clouds burst into tears.

   "It's still money. Whatever."

   "You don't need to pay me anything. I'm the one paying you, remember?" A slight frown twisted her brow and Wade shook his head, gesturing to the bill in her hand.

   "That's for your thoughts. You've been way too calm and quiet and that's not normal. You haven't even threatened me in, like...three days? Are you feeling sicker?"

   Though his tone was light and playful, a deep concern was masked beneath it. Skipper picked up on this and felt a tinge of guilt. But what did she even have to be guilty for? She shoved it aside with a rapid shake of her head before turning her attention back to the window, gazing at the rain as if Wade had never spoken to her. It wasn't exactly her intention to ignore him, she just didn't know what to think or feel right now.

    In a way, she felt a lot like the rain. Or, more specifically, the clouds themselves—something that had so much energy to pour forth, and once spent it would be evaporated into nothing. Never to be seen. No one would know, or care, or give it a second thought. Because death is just one of those inevitable things that happens to all of us, and in the grand scheme of things, so many are dying that no one knows about.

    A stray tear crawled from her eyelid, bubbling up an trailing down her cheek. Wade bit his lip in an apologetic manner, as though he had been the cause of her tears. In truth, it was merely her internal conflict that was eating at her. So much happened below the surface of her being that she never expressed, and sometimes it just built up to these little breaking points. She considered it normal, not something to be ashamed of.

    Rather than prod her for anything, Wade shifted his focus to the rain as well. They'd been stationary in a McDonald's parking lot since stopping off for a late lunch.

    But it was now hours since then, and here in the parking lot they remained. Listening to the rain, watching it fall. Wade continued to say nothing. If Skipper was not going to talk, he wouldn't make her. He knew her enough to know that even if he tried, he couldn't make her do anything anyway. Instead he chose to rack his mind, searching his memory to see if he could locate an exact time he noted the change in her demeanor. She'd been rather sullen since returning to the States from Mexico. Perhaps that was when it had started? Though he could distinctly remember each day, it was all a blur when he tried to pinpoint when she'd changed.