Strangers With A Past

The low gas signal flashed on my dashboard. My car was a heaping pile of shit which chugged enough fuel that would have Greta Thunberg calling a COP meeting. Remembering the sign a few miles back signalling a gas station up ahead I prayed that Norman would make it. 

Yes, I named my car after a fictional serial killer.

Seen as I was in the ass end of nowhere, I wasn't surprised that the rest stop rivalled that of the one from Hills Have Eyes. A bus pulling out left only me and a shitty-looking pickup truck. Isn't this how all horror films start? With a creak opening my door, I stepped out and sweat instantly coated my skin. With a muttered Jesus Christ I made my way to the shabby-looking store. A bell rang above me and my eyes instantly searched for the owner. From the outside, it looked run down and almost abandoned, but the inside was surprisingly clean and most importantly, air-conditioned. I made my way to the fridges to grab a few bottles of water. I had around 4 hours left until I reached my hotel and I didn't want to stop again. 

"Hello," I called out.

A man popped up from behind the counter. Like literally popped up. I clutched my chest.

"Jesus, how long have you been down there?" The man appeared to be no taller than 5 ft 4.

"Since I saw your car pull in."

I didn't know whether to laugh or be creeped out but when his soft chuckle reached my ears, I instantly felt at ease. I began to open my mouth before a door I didn't notice at the back of the store burst open. A man, no older than 26, came rushing out with a muttered 'no, no, no.' He turned to face me and the sales clerk.

"The bus left didn't it?" I noted an accent. Australian.

"Yeah, about 5 minutes ago." I've missed my fair share of busses in my life, but to miss one this far from civilisation was a kicker.

"Where you heading?" I don't know why those words slipped out of my mouth.

"Houston. My friends getting married tomorrow."

I frowned. My friends were also getting married in Houston tomorrow.

"Jessica and Michael?" It was his turn to frown.

"Yeah? How..." He trailed off. 

The owner was watching this interaction like it was a Wimbledon tournament.

"Jess is my best friend. I'm a bridesmaid." 

He nodded his head in understanding, but he also seemed deep in thought. When you were younger adults used to tell you how small the world was, I never actually believed it until this moment. The world is way too small. On top of that, parents also used to warn you about strangers and hitchhikers, but I took pity on the guy and that's why I didn't hesitate to say, "Wanna carpool?"

It made sense at the moment to ask this guy if he wanted a ride. I mean we were heading to the same place, but I don't even know his name. I invited a stranger into my car without knowing his name or sending proof of identification to my friends. All those crime documentaries I watch and now I'm going to be the star in my very own. A chuckle broke my thoughts. "You look constipated." I whipped my head to my new travel buddy to see a smirk playing on his face.

I could feel the heat start at my neck and travel up to my face. He opened his mouth again, but this time I cut him off. "If you say I now look like a tomato, I'm kicking you out of the car without stopping." His smirk still lingered but he drew a zipping motion across his lips and then 'threw away the key.' In my peripheral vision, I saw his hand come up.

I screamed. 

He screamed. 

I swerved. 

He knocked his head on the window.

I hit the break.

The sound of Rihanna's Bitch Better Have My Money, could just barely be heard over our harsh pants. My hands were still clutching the wheel and my eyes were focused on the Mini logo in the centre.

"Fuck. Are you okay?" The still-nameless guy asked. He sounded exasperated but clear-headed. Me on the other hand...

"I'm sorry. I saw your hand coming up and I thought..." I trailed off. I didn't want to admit I thought he was attacking me. One, that was kinda embarrassing and two, I didn't want to make him feel bad or uncomfortable.

He nodded his head in understanding.

"No no, I should've spoke first. I'm sorry. Are you okay though?"

I nodded.

"Are you? How's your head?"

He touched the side of his head like he forgot he just bounced it off my window.

"I'll live. Let's try that again. I'm Levi." I watched as he brought his hand up in what I now knew to be a handshake. I laughed as I put my now clammy hand in his. "Avery."

Levi offered to drive after I nearly killed us both but I assured him it wouldn't happen again. I also wouldn't want to subject someone to this piece of shit car that most definitely won't pass its next MOT check. I surprisingly felt comfortable in Levi's presence and the soft hum of the radio added to that. He felt familiar. I learned that he met Michael when travelling around Thailand. I had to stop my eyes from rolling at how cliche that sounds. I mustn't have a very good poker face because he said, "Alright miss judgy. Let me guess, you met Jess at uni? What was it? Same dorm? Same class?" When I side-eyed him and remained silent he smacked his hand on his knee. "Nailed it." 

Nailed it indeed.

It was when we hit the hour mark that I realised something about Levi.

He has a staring problem.

I could feel his gaze piercing the side of my face. I hated people staring. I always felt like there was something on my face. I couldn't help but shift in my seat.

"Not to be creepy, but I know you." There was nothing comforting about that sentence, but I surprisingly felt calm.

"Too late. Your staring was creepy enough." He chuckled.

"Touche."

"You know me? Dare I ask where from?"

He squinted his eyes and tilted his head in thought.

"Avery Jackson! We met at the Lakeside Lodge in Nantucket like 6 years ago."

I thought back to 6 years ago. I remember Jess surprising me with a summer trip with a group of people from uni. One of those attendees was now soon-to-be husband, Michael. It clicked almost straight away.

"Holy shit, you were the guy who jumped from the roof into the pool! You were so wasted, I'm surprised you even remember anything from the weekend."

A small sad smile passed over his face.

"I remember what I need to remember," his eyes met mine, "I stopped drinking after that weekend." He rubbed his palms on his shorts.

"6 years sober then?" He nodded.

"Good for you Levi." And I meant it. My family has no history of substance abuse or addictions, but I've witnessed what it can do. I know it couldn't have been easy for him.

"How old are you by the way?" When I first saw him I guessed twenty-six.

"Twenty-Six. You?"

Damn, I'm good.

"Twenty-Five."

Now that I knew who he was, bits and pieces from that weekend started to come back. At the time he was very thin for someone of his height. If I had to guess, I would say 6 ft 3. Shoulder-length blonde hair, ill-fitting clothing, drunk morning, noon and evening. My heart clenched at the memory. Now that his gaze was out the window, I took the chance to analyse him properly. 6 years later.

Cropped blonde hair, long on the top and short on the sides. Patchwork tattoos decorated his tanned arms. Bulky in all the right places. He looked good. Healthy too. I returned my eyes to the road before I'm the one that gets accused of having a staring problem.

"Thank you." I tensed slightly. I had an idea of where this was going. This time he looked nervous. His inked arm came up and scratched the nape of his neck nervously.

"For what you did that weekend." When I continued to remain silent he sighed and told the story like it was yesterday. "I was completely wasted one night, well, all the nights, but this one more so. It was around 4 am and I needed water. I knew I wasn't being the quietest so it was no surprise when I heard someone come down the stairs. Probably coming to tell me to shut up," he laughed but I only gave him a small smile in encouragement, "You appeared in the kitchen. Well, 2 of you did. My head was spinning so bad and I didn't know which was the real you. I remember you grabbing my hand and leading me to the couch. You brought over a glass of water and a few slices of bread." Oldest trick in the book. "You didn't speak and you didn't force me to speak. You just sat with me whilst keeping me watered and fed, but then I threw up." I winced as I remember the spew, the smell. "God that was embarrassing but you didn't make a deal out of it. You helped me upstairs, cleaned me up and waited with me till I fell asleep. You didn't treat me like I was a burden. I woke up feeling better than I probably deserved, and then I came down the stairs in the morning expecting the smell of vomit to hit me, but only the scent of cleaning products did. I overheard you telling everyone that you spilt some wine onto the rug whilst coming down to grab some water in the middle of the night. I was so grateful. You didn't have to do that, cover for a drunkard, but I remembered everything that night. I pretended I didn't out of the shame I felt. So I'm sorry about that night, well that weekend, but thank you."

A singular tear slid down my cheek. I don't know how I could've forgotten that night, forgotten Levi, but as soon as I knew where I recognised him from, the memory of that night came flooding back. I didn't blame him for not recognising me. I bet he wanted to forget that weekend more than anything. I quickly wiped my tear with the back of my hand and reached over to grab Levi's hand in a tight squeeze.

In a way, Levi was a stranger. Especially this version of him. I didn't know this guy sat next to me but you bet your ass I want to. It's going to be an interesting 3 hours and an even more interesting weekend.