As the road climbed, the first dusting of snow shimmered on the treetops. I pulled into the last rest stop before the turn-off to Smoke River. I needed to pee, and my legs ached. I parked next to a minivan and got out to stretch.
A woman stood by the minivan as kids filed out in a line like a clown car.
“Everybody pees,” the mother said, shuffling the kids forward in twos like a mom on Noah’s Ark.
“I don’t have to pee,” a little girl whined.
“Yes, you do. Everybody pees. Everybody tries,” the mom said. Our eyes met, and she shrugged as I gave her a sympathetic smile. Seeing her reminded me of making this drive with Gran and Mom. Once upon a time, I’d daydreamed about what it would be like to have kids of my own someday and bring them to Smoke River.
What was wrong with me? I couldn’t manage a successful relationship. The last thing I needed was to daydream about imaginary kids on an imaginary vacation with my imaginary family. I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and headed to the restroom.
After hover-peeing above an icy toilet seat, I washed my hands in cold water and warmed them in a howling air dryer. I walked across the darkened parking lot back to the truck. Overhead, a solid bank of clouds covered the stars. I did not like the look of those clouds. I shivered as a gust of icy wind raked through the parking lot. A wave of goosebumps crawled down my body. I raced to the truck. The weather was changing.
The minivan was gone, replaced by a bright yellow Jeep with a gleaming chrome grill. Its engine was running. As I unlocked my door, a woman strode toward the Jeep, yelling at the top of her lungs.
“You asshole!” she belted, hurling a fistful of dirt and pebbles at the Jeep.
Keys in hand, I froze as she scooped up another handful of ammunition and walked behind the Jeep, blocking us both in. The Jeep revved its engine, and the woman moved back and forth behind both our cars. What the hell was happening?
“You and your dumb-ass car! That’s right. I called it acar, you asshole!” she yelled, arms flailing. Hands empty, she darted back to the curb to reload with more dirt and pebbles.
The moment she was out of range, the Jeep backed up, tiressquealing. The woman chased after it a few steps, hands balled in fists at her side.
“Drive away, motherfucker!” she yelled as the Jeep did a three-point turn and headed to the exit. “Take your big dick and all your stupid rules. You are going to miss my fine ass.” The woman teetered on tall, shiny, red boots. A gust of wind picked up leaves, spinning all around like her own personal tornado.
“Holy shit,” I whispered under my breath. What was I supposed to do? This definitely felt like a situation where someone needed to do something.
The woman exhaled, rolled back her shoulders, and turned away from the rest stop exit. The yellow Jeep was long gone.
As she walked, I caught a glimpse of the woman’s fancy dress beneath her long, brown fur coat. It was fitted, black, and short. I didn’t know people still wore fur coats, and I was certain this one was real, though it did remind me of a bear.
“Are you okay?” I asked, closing the door to the truck.
She looked at me as if she wasn’t aware there were other people watching. “What?”
“I asked if you are okay.”
“No,” she snorted. “I’m fucking not.”
“You need me to call someone? Or do you need a ride?” I did not want to delay my drive to Smoke River, but this woman was alone at a rest stop in emotional distress. Clearly, the man whose dick she once liked was now driving his big dick away.
“No, I don’t need a ride,” she said. Crossing her arms, she pulled her fur coat in tighter around her body. “I’m fine. And it’s none of your damn business anyway. Back off.” She turned on her fancy heels and walked away.
Well, shit, I thought. So much for helping a sister in need. I knew how bad it felt to be hurt by a man, even the wrong one. Maybe the big dick in the yellow Jeep had cheated on her like all my exes had cheated on me.
I climbed into the truck and started the engine to get the heat going. I didn’t like that darkening sky. Before I hit the road again, Idecided to send a couple of texts in case I couldn’t get a good signal at the cabin.
My battery had dropped to ten percent just on low-power mode. I was going to have to turn the phone off for the rest of the drive after I texted Mom and my friends back in Seattle.
To Mom
All is well, almost there. At rest stop and phone battery low, will call in the am XO
I thought for a moment and sent one more message.
I’m sorry I didn’t eat the tacos
I love you