Page 4 of The Hitchhikers
“We’ve never been past Vancouver,” Blue said with a shrug.
“Thank you for dinner.” Ocean wiped butter off her fingers with a napkin and patted her lips dry. “It was so good.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” Alice stood and began to gather plates. “Anyone up for dessert? We have watermelon.”
“Thanks, but we should probably go,” Blue said. “We need to find a spot to sleep.”
“You could stay here. We have a spare tent, and with those bikers camping near the river, it might not be a safe place for…” Tom’s gaze shifted to Ocean.
Alice focused on the dirty plates she was collecting. She didn’t look at Tom.
“Maybe they’re right, babe,” Ocean said. She sounded nervous.
When Blue didn’t answer, Alice glanced up at his face. He was looking back and forth between Tom and Alice. She wondered why he was hesitating. Did he sense that she was upset?
“You’ll be more comfortable,” Tom said.
“Okay. If you don’t mind…”
“That’s settled then.” Alice carried the plates into the RV.
Tom and Alice lay together in bed. They’d played several games of Uno by lantern light with the couple. Ocean had never played before, but she’d picked it up quickly, even if she couldn’t seem to bring herself to shout “Uno!” like the others and said it more like an apology. Blue had no problem slapping down his cards. During the night, Ocean had revealed she was nineteen and Blue was twenty-two, but Alice felt like Ocean seemed younger. More innocent. Alice had made Jiffy Pop on the fire, and Ocean had nearly jumped out of her seat when the kernels began popping. Then she’d watched with big eyes as the aluminum foil expanded into a silver dome.
“Did you believe their story?” Alice said. “That they’re just traveling?”
“Sure.” He adjusted his pillow. “Didn’t you?”
“They don’t seem prepared. They could be runaways.”
A soft shrug in the dark, the rustling of sheets. “They don’t look underage.”
“Their names are definitely made up.”
“No crime in that. They’re having fun.” She couldn’t miss the admiration in his voice and felt a stab of guilt. Maybe that was why he wanted to spend time with them. They made him feel young again. It had been the opposite for her. Thirty-six had suddenly felt like forty-six.
“They barely spoke about themselves.”
“Sounds like they had things rough at home. I don’t think there’s anything to be concerned about.” He stroked her arm. “Try to get some rest.”
His breath deepened as he relaxed. She willed herself to turnin his direction, to press her cheek against his bicep, but her bones were too weary. Her heart too heavy.
She used to find comfort in his solidness. Tom wasn’t a tall man, but he was built stout, with wide shoulders and strong legs. His black hair was thick and feathered back, his sideburns trimmed tight against his jaw. He enjoyed food, beer, and laughter with friends. He loved entertaining and they hosted Super Bowl parties every year. More than once, she’d heard someone refer to him as a gentle giant. She agreed, but she was jealous of how easily he could shrug off problems. How quickly he could make decisions without agonizing over every detail.
Sixteen years. It was a long time, and yet, the physical side of their marriage had never been a problem. Until last year. There was the fracture, then the ever-widening crack until it was now this big gaping, silent thing between them. He used to make small attempts, his hand linking with hers, his body rolling against her, his hand on her hip, his lips to her neck, but she couldn’t stop her muscles from stiffening, couldn’t make her body feel anything, and so he’d stopped.
Muffled music leaked through the RV walls, loud laughter, yelling. The group by the river. She’d fretted when Tom said he wanted to bring his dad’s old handgun, but now she was glad for the protection. Tom was making a soft snoring sound. She thought of the couple in the tent. Were they asleep yet? Tomorrow she would be cheerful. She would make them breakfast. Absently she ran her hands over her now-flat stomach, then yanked them away as though burned.
That night she dreamed of a small lifeless body being placed in her arms, swaddled in his blue knit blanket so snugly that she couldn’t see his face. Then the cedar coffin lowering into the ground. Dirt falling. She clawed and clawed at the earth, but she couldn’t bring him back.
CHAPTER 2JENNY
They’d zipped their sleeping bags together and lay with her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her. He was tracing soft patterns on her skin. The night air was still warm enough that they could sleep in their T-shirts and underwear, but their pants and shoes were nearby in case they had to dress in a hurry. They hadn’t unpacked their bags.
Simon’s voice was low and close to her ear. “BlueandOcean?”
“I wasn’t thinking. The names just popped into my head.”
“I like them.” Simon moved his hand to stroke her lower back, scratching gently. They’d been bitten by so many bugs on the beach, they were both covered with welts. Alice had given them calamine lotion and a red thermos full of water, and when she realized they didn’t have pillows, she’d insisted that they take a couple of decorative ones from the RV. They were firm, and roughly textured, but Jenny was grateful they didn’t have to use their packs as pillows again.
