[ sixteen ] - oh the irony
monday night - four days until graduation
After we crossed from Clarksville, Arkansas to another small, neighboring town, Elliot scolded me for refusing to go to sleep. After much arguing, I surrendered, figuring out simply that we wouldn't be stopping for the night. It was much too risky. Besides, what would any hotel manager say after seeing the stolen FedEx truck and the companions were obviously not FedEx workers? So, I took Elliot's advice and easily fell asleep, just waiting for my turn to drive (to this, Elliot protested profusely, to which I argued that a girl driver was better than a sleeping driver; not much, but still better.)
I didn't know for how long I had dozed off. Two hours, maybe three? All it took for me to surrender to the exhaustion waiting in my limbs was to prop my head on the shaking window of the passenger seat and close my eyes. I wasn't sure either how I had woken up, the familiar feeling of delusion fogging my brain. After what seemed like an hour or two later, I blinked in the darkness, not knowing where I was for two seconds, later instilling a sense of panic that faded away when I saw Elliot.
I had looked over at Elliot yawning at the driver's seat, slumped to a degree. He seemed the same as I had left him: quiet, and focused on the road. But as I watched closer, his head kept drooping lower and lower and he yawned twice in the last forty seconds. Suddenly, before my very eyes, his head fell forward and he lost control of the wheel, leaving the truck without a driver.
"Elliot!"
I quickly lunged for the steering wheel with one hand, swerving us off the wrong side of the road just seconds before an SUV was to crash into ours. I was frozen for a while at the sight of the headlights in my eyes, until I turned the truck away, barely into safety. A symphony of angry horns and honking greeted us as I turned the lurching semi-wheeler onto the right side of the highway, my heart pounding. "Elliot, wake up!" I yelled.
"Huh? What?" his head shot upwards, confused.
"Hey what are you doing driving?" he blinked at the sight of me, my face in his, and me trying to ignore the close proximity that would've been fatal; just one move and in an inch we would be kissing.
I didn't offer a response, but I slowly took command of the steering wheel, leaning over Elliot, and pulled the truck over to the side of the highway.
"Why are we stopping? I was fine, I could handle a few more hours," he said, and as if the universe wanted to test this, he yawned loudly, covering his mouth his fist. To re-wake himself, he shook his hand quickly, slapping his cheek and grinning lopsidedly at me. I wasn't fooled.
"No you can't," I shook my head, unbuckling my seat belt. "You nearly killed us! Does this sound familiar to you?"
He rolled his eyes at the deja vu. A couple of days ago, our positions were reversed. He shrugged, "Sorry, I just dozed off for a bit, but I'm alright, I swear--"
"Elliot, don't be difficult. I swear I won't let anything happen to the truck, just get some rest, okay? You've been driving for too long, nearly the whole day." To prove my point, I tilted my head to the clock. It was half past eleven at night, and though cars started to become a rare sight on the highway, Elliot had been driving the truck since this morning, when we had so graciously stolen it.
I was obviously right about Elliot's exhaustion because he didn't bother to argue anymore. Honestly, I was expecting a much bigger argument, but he just waved me away like I was a fart, and almost collapsed in the driver's seat then and there if I hadn't caught his slumping body in my arms and gently patted his warm face.
"Come on, you can go to sleep just after you sit down," I whispered, awkwardly guiding him over to where I sat, while leaning and trying not to crush him. "Ow!" I hissed, reeling from bumping my head on the roof of the truck as Elliot buckled himself in my seat and I in his. Even before I pulled off the road, he was already propping his head on the window, snoring softly.
I refused to look over to my right and watch Elliot, because as creepy as it sounded, it was actually calming to see him doze off. There was something innocent about it, I guessed. It had three seconds after I realized I was fawning over a boy who was currently drooling and I demanded that I snap out of it.
[ three hours later ]
Driving a semi-wheeler was not that difficult at all. The Arkansas interstate was fairly flat, though not as straight and narrow as the Tennessee farm roads. As I thought this, it struck me with force at how far we've already come. We're making pretty good time if I do say so myself. I tpast the way the truck would occasionally groan like it was exhausted, or lurch over to one side. I just steeled myself for another long trip through the night, not even thinking about how coffee-deprived I was.
I didn't bother taking note of how my eyelids were drooping, because compared to Elliot, I hadn't done one good thing to contribute to this trip. Sure, my plans were quite brilliant compared to his nonexistent ones, but I was too chicken to carry out with most of them that my fear usually got in the way of things. Actually, it wasn't fear, just my doubts.
I don't remember a time when I was a positive child. Clearly, I was truly born a pessimist, and that in itself wasn't such a shock when I found out my mother and father were both slightly doubtful -- mostly when it came to their marriage. Dad had always been the poor puppy trailing along after Mom like the annoyingly loyal person he was, and Mom was much too oblivious to notice this. She was much too busy partaking in her booming cardiologist career to go on dinner dates with him, and after I was born, they were permanently sprung into a consistent battle for time, money, and the lack of whatever it was that kept them together.
They both drifted apart from the exhaustion. Mom being tired of the way Dad always cared for her, or in her words, "suffocating her," while Dad couldn't handle the way Mom just shoved him away, completely ignoring his efforts to love her better. And during all this time, I was in my own little bubble, where the truth was nothing but a fantasy - that all came crashing down when my mother started seeing another man, someone who wasn't my father. All good things came to a horrid end, and there seemed to be no hope, no shining light. Not anymore, at least.
And my being on this trip kinda proved that. Except for the part where Elliot showed up. I must say, that was the only lucky thing that had happened in the seventeen years of my existence. He was the lucky one.
My thoughts were sliced in half when Elliot started mumbling in his sleep.
I squinted through the darkness, only broken by the soft blue light of the digital clock and the speedometer. I caught bits and pieces of gibberish here and there, while Elliot shifted in his sleep. I paid no mind to it until I heard the one thing that sounded like an actual word,
"Samantha," he muttered longingly. "Samantha, no." His eyes were closed, but he was thrashing around, clearly having nightmares about the girl he left behind.
I couldn't help myself. I didn't really have a choice but to sit there and listen to him mumble things until he woke himself up. He seemed perplexed, taking a hasty look around his surroundings, before letting his head fall to the back of his seat. He sighed, clearly disturbed.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"Two, three hours?" I said, trying to keep my voice steady, wanting to leave no indication that I heard his cries.
"You've been driving since then?" He seemed vaguely impressed. I straightened my form, tightening my grip on the steering wheel and changing lanes with ease.
"My butt hurts," I told him, as I peer him through the side mirror.
"Lemme drive," he offered, leaning over to me.
"N-No, I'm alright -- you go to sleep. You need it," I said, throwing him a long-lasting look before I realized I was supposed to be focusing on the road.
I could feel his eyes lingering on me, making me tremble a bit. He was studying me, if I was lying to him or not. "What's wrong?" he obviously detected.
"Huh?"
"Did I say something? You seem tense."
"You were, uh, talking in your sleep."
"Really?" he didn't seem surprised at this. "What was I saying?"
I bit my lip as headlights from a passing car blind me for a moment. Should I tell him that he's been muttering a Samantha for over fifteen minutes, or would that make him even more of a sobbing wreck? I was never one to lie, but I was never one to tell the whole truth either.
"Something about beef jerky," I said, nodding.
He knows. He knows me too well in the span of the four days we've been stuck together that he could tell the difference between what was real and what wasn't. But if he did know I was holding back, he didn't mention anything.
His grey-green eyes are on me once more. I didn't dare to crane my neck to see him. "I'll just -- I'll go back to sleep then, if you're fine?"
"Don't worry about me," I breathe, glancing at the bright green digital clock. It was almost two in the morning, but it felt much, much longer.
"I can't help it, Vienna Sausage" was all he said before a faint snoring returned from the silence.
I wipe my eyelids tiredly with my forearm and continue keeping on, thoughts swirling around in my mind, only to say,
He has someone else.
You shouldn't be thinking this way.
He's not your priority; graduation is, college is.
Don't do something you'll regret -- don't feel something you'll regret.
My hand reaches out for the volume knob on the radio and I push back all my thoughts in frustration, choosing instead to drown myself in pointless hispanic music that made no sense, but thankfully masked the ramblings of my mind.
Samantha, I thought, what a beautiful name.
I kept driving.
- x -
Elliot had called for her numerous times in the last two hours.
I lost track of how many times he would yell for someone who wasn't there, saying her name over and over again until he would realize that he can't get to her. Then, the cycle would continue when he would gasp for breath, clawing at the darkness, panting in frustration, then mumbling himself back to yet again, another troubled sleep.
He would wake himself up most of the times, pretending I didn't see anything and choosing to shrug off his nightmares and her name. When headlights would flash in our eyes from a rare oncoming car, I would glance over and be unfortunate enough to see the beads of sweat lining up on his forehead, or the way his eyebrows would furrow worriedly, or the way his hands would twitch uncontrollably whenever Samantha's name was called.
Samantha, Samantha, Samantha. His Samantha.
The last time he had called her name was the worst.
He had screamed with his eyes closed, being overtaken by something that wasn't him -- not exactly possessed, just enraptured by the thought of his dying girl / friend. It had gotten so severe that I had to pull over on the side of the dirt road, the FedEx lurching and groaning and refusing to cooperate. Without thinking of the potential aftermath, I had taken off my seatbelt and reached for Elliot, cradling his head and saying, "Shh, shh, nothing's there, you're fine."
Elliot buried his face in the crook where my shoulder met my neck, and I smelled the faint scent of the pineapple hotel shampoo in his brown locks. For a while, the both of us just sat there without talking and seemingly holding our shaking breaths, with Elliot being in the middle of his dreams and reality and I being unlucky enough to be awake through it all.
He was shaking badly, but after a while he didn't thrash around. He still hadn't opened his eyes but he had stopped screaming for her. I didn't focus on that. I kept my mind set on comforting him and calming him down. He was a distraction to my already hazardous driving. If he asked why I was hugging him or letting him cry on my thin shoulder, that would be my excuse.
My fingers stroked his auburn hair, tracing the paths my hands made and in the darkness, his breathing returned to normal. His head became limp on my arm, his hands resting on mine when he finally calmed down. His warmth against mine, I slowly held a firm grip on his arms, his head lolling to one side. He was knocked out cold, by sadness or heartbreak or insomnia in the middle of the night -- I couldn't tell.
I strapped him in his seat, and got back on the wheel, but not before hearing "Vienna" in a soft, faint whisper coming from his lips.
I didn't know whether to smile or cry or punch the window.
- x -
It was four in the morning, and cars started to thin out on the highway. I've been going as far west as I could possibly manage, and around three o'clock, I managed to cross our meager FedEx truck across the Oklahoma border, a bright green sign welcoming me into the "Sooner State."
I figured Oklahoma's nickname was a wonderful sign; the sooner we got home, the sooner we crossed into California, the sooner all our worries would be gone.
My eyelids began to droop heavily, and the realization dawned upon me that I've been holding my bladder in since my bathroom conversation with Kara hours ago. I spent enough time in health class to know that that wasn't just unpleasant, it was unhealthy. Elliot had had it lucky; he could just whip out his accessory and go wherever he wanted, like an animal. I was a lady, more or less, and I desperately needed a toilet seat, asap.
I reached out to shake Elliot on the arm, "Hey, hey Elliot, wake up!"
When he opened his eyes, I grinned wide. "Welcome to Oklahoma!"
If someone had taken a 'before and after pic' of Elliot hours ago to now, he would've be completely unrecognizable. You couldn't even tell he had spent half the night screaming in his sleep. His bloodshot eyes were gone as the morning came, and his pale face shown with confusion.
"Huh? Wha--? Oklahoma already?" he straighted himself upright in his seat. "And it's still Monday? And you got us through Arkansas? And we're not lying in a ditch?"
I sighed, "Your faith in me, Elliot, is overwhelming. It's Tuesday morning, actually -- four thirty am. Yes, I drove. No, obviously, we're not dead in a ditch so I assume you trust me in the driver's seat now?"
"Nice try, but never," he shook his head, running a hand through his hair before giving me a faint glimpse of a calm smile. Had he known that just hours ago, he had been in a totally different state of mine? He was close to sobbing, for pete's sake.
He yawned, stretching upwards to the low ceiling, "I feel abnormally tired... drained, actually. Did I even get any sleep last night?"
I bit my lip, unsure of what to say. Maybe the truth will work better this time. "Yes... and no."
He raised an eyebrow.
"You haven't exactly had a peaceful sleep -- you were --"
"Oh no, I was talking in my sleep again, wasn't I?" he interjected, and when I nodded slow, he was devastated. "Oh God. Sorry if I weirded you out. Childhood habit. Mom says I've been muttering things ever since I was a toddler -- I didn't freak you out or anything did I?"
Oh no, of course you didn't freak me out, not when you started calling for her, not when you started to fits in your sleep, and especially not when you were shaking in my arms.
"No. No, you didn't freak me out." I changed lanes on the highway briskly, my left butt cheek slowly starting to become numb.
"Good. Well, what was I saying this time?" As if he didn't have any vague idea or any clue.
I went for it. No regrets, no turning back. "You were calling for a girl. A Samantha?"
A pained look was painted on his face, stricken with sure surprise at the sound of the mysterious but neverending connotation of a name that held so much in just three little syllables. Elliot turned his eyes away from me and instead looked out the window.
"Elliot? Who is she?" I asked gently, and instantly regretted ever saying anything.
"Just a friend," he grunted.
"You seemed awfully upset about it last night," I told him, easing my way into another lane and gaining speed.
"I, uh, feel uncomfortable talking about her, honestly. Can we stop talking about her?" his voice shook and he tried hard to fight it from choking, which it did.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course," I nodded my head, biting my bottom lip hard to avoid saying anything else. My big, fat stupid mouth just had to talk.
Ten minutes of tense silence later, I suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pee, and I crossed my legs in instinct, my grip tightening on the wheel. In an instant, I spotted an exit to my right and immediately dove for it, impulsively switching two lanes and gaining a massive amount of honking and horns from it.
"What are you doing?" Elliot asked, his eyes wide.
"I haven't peed in hours," I told him, "Besides, I've gotten us this far."
"Yes. Very far indeed."
"I got us a whole state!"
"Yes. So I assume you want me to drive now?"
"That'd be wonderful," I smiled, pulling into a Shell gas station off the corner of the exit and hopping out quickly after parking the truck. But before I disappeared into the gas station, I grabbed the keys out of the ignition, not about to make the same mistake as last time. As I looked around, our simple FedEx truck was the only vehicle with four wheels in the parking lot. There was a mass amount of motorbikes on one side, with its owners and riders clad in leather jackets and black sunglasses chatting with each other in the large group.
To my surprise, Elliot followed after me, his hands shoved smugly in his pockets and a glazed look on his face. The gas station was empty, save for a couple of police officers chatting over some donuts in the small connecting cafe. My body stiffened at the sight of them and on impulse, my first instinct was to run, and run far away.
Without thinking, I stepped back at the sight of the cops, and bumped into Elliot's hard chest. His hands found the crook of my elbow and he slowly walked me over to the restrooms. For a minute, I thought he would go in the ladies' room with me, until he stopped at the intersection between the mens and the ladies.
"Don't act like you've just stolen a truck," he whispered at me, before disappearing through the mens' restroom, giving a final smirk before leaving. I sighed, thanking him for that sage piece of wisdom, before going to the bathroom. I came out minutes later to find him waiting by the postcard aisle, turning the rack and mindlessly reading them.
I tapped his shoulder, "Well, I have been relieved. You?" but before he had a chance to answer, I took him by the elbow and steered him towards the door,-- "Great! Let's get a move on before the cops--"
Suddenly, Elliot's hands latched themselves on my shoulders, steering me harshly into the aisles of junk food. "What? What's wrong this time?" I found the need to ask, already feeling my gut sinking.
Elliot pointed over the top over the racks filled with Lay's Chips at the windows overlooking the parking lot. What I saw made my heart drop to my toes. The police officers have left their donut post and were now standing in front of our FedEx truck with suspicious looks. Had they gotten a report of the stolen truck? Were we now nationally wanted, labeled as juvenile theives? But we haven't even given our names?
"I knew it. I knew we were going to get caught, one way or another," I said, crouching behind the safety of the junk food aisle.
Elliot sighed, sinking to the floor. "We gave it a good run. We made it to Oklahoma with Fergie's help."
"Fergie?"
"Oh, that's the FedEx truck's name. Fergie."
I stared at him blankly. "Of course."
"What?" he blinked at me.
"Elliot, we have to find a way to get out of here," I start. The feeling of adrenaline and a race against time was all-too familiar to me; but not a good-familiar, like meeting an old friend. More like a horrid-familiar, like getting in touch with your worst mortal enemy.
Elliot started moving towards the back, pointing towards the back exit. We were about to leave through the rear door when we heard a low rumbling noise of a heavy vehicle. And suddenly, a two truck appeared before our very eyes.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" Elliot groaned.
We watched on, devastatingly, as the police officers and the tow man lifted up our precious Fergie onto its menacing hook, and were about to tow it away. The cops talked into their walkie talkies, no doubt reporting about the found FedEx truck.
"They'll be looking for us soon," Elliot urged.
"When will this stop?" I asked.
"What?"
"When will all this stop--"
"I know what you meant, I just -- I feel the same way," he said, a bit irritated. "If it wasn't for me losing our Range Rover in the first place, we could've avoided all of this and--"
"It's not your fault--"
"Vienna Dawson, I'd appreciate it if you didn't interrupt me because I'm trying to apologize and--"
"--Elliot James, it's not your fault," I interjected stubbornly. "We just gotta... keep moving forward. Look to the bright side of things. Don't stop believing?"
He gaped at me, clearly shocked. "I've never met such a pessimist like you, Vienna Dawson."
We spent a few seconds just staring each other down, completely absorbed in the junk food aisle and the temptations of zebra cakes when we realized that hunkering down, weak and vulnerable, was not the brightest idea. The both of us quickly sped out through the back, where a separate station of gas aisles were found,
"Where do we go now?" Elliot asked, dumbfounded.
"I don't know, Elliot. Honest, I don't," I told him. I guess I was all out of plans.
We stood in the corner of the gas station for a while, with Elliot trying to figure out which was was East while I tried to suggest following the stars, to which Elliot pointed out wouldn't work because it was dawn and the stars were going away for the night.
Elliot groaned. "It's like all of our bad luck seems to rain on us whenever we're in a gas station." He lifts his head up and points to a 'No Loitering' sign. "I'm half expecting Elisa to come barging out of the door and helping us out again."
It would've been nice, seeing the friendly old woman we encountered back in Tennessee. She was just so kind and warmhearted that it was shocking. There weren't many people like that in the world today. I guessed the world just moved so fast that people forgot they weren't alone. That were other people and other lives to help make better.
But Elisa was two states and a hundred miles away, and I knew that we would never see her again.
I sighed heavily, but held a hand out to Elliot. He stared at it, confused. "What?"
"We keep walking west. We're bound to hit something soon enough, am I right?" I tried. This whole 'positivity' thing was a hard thing to keep up.
He scoffed. "Like, what, the ocean?"
"Now, who's becoming a pessimist? Admit it, I'm rubbing off on you," I teased, smiling.
"No. You are not," he was trying hard to suppress his grin but took my hand in his awkwardly, before letting it go after a moment of it having no purpose. "But you're right. No more big plans, I'm guessing?"
I shook my head. "Not after Fergie."
"Hey, the was my idea!"
I didn't answer; instead, I started to trudge out of the gas station, quickening my pace especially after I saw the police officers going back into the station and asking some people if they had seen two teenagers on the run. If they had looked out the windows, maybe they could have seen a girl and a boy running down a dirt road trying to pretend like nothing was wrong. But fortunately for us, they didn't.
And so we walked.
- x -
© paulina r. all rights reserved, 2014.
[ a/n ] extremely sorry for the long wait :-( but hopefully you'll like this mega-long chapter :-) it only takes [ seconds ] to click that little star up on the right hand corner, but it would make my whole day if you could vote, comment your thoughts, anything. thanks so very much reading, the fact that this book has already reached 25k just bLOWS my mind you don't even know how much i love all of the support, thank you, thank you, thank you!
xoxo
paulina
[ yes. this is unedited. ]