Lost In Thought

My head is sore, the road is smooth, my thoughts are tangled. We have been driving in silence for less time than I think we’ve been. She disturbs the stale stillness by turning away from the window, I blink awake at the wheel. With the timidity of a beaten dog she reaches for the radio, her purposefully ragged sweater drooping over tiny knuckles. A Spanish song pummels us both with noise, like an uninvited and overexcited guest. For a moment, I am back, laughing at the sudden contrast. I turn to her and see her laughing too. Fireworks reflecting off her eyes, long nights on our couch, conversations made in a mutual, absolute comfort. A sort of calm I had once thought unattainable. Her eyes flicker to my jaw and then desperately meet back with my own. I looked back to the road as she scanned the radio for a generic station to fill the silence. My jaw is sore, the road is smooth, these trees have a lot of moss. 

It has been a while since I last had a mechanic take a look at this old van. When I bought it, it had nearly 200,000 miles. It refused to die, I enabled it. The odometer reads  285,890 miles. The poor thing pulls to the left now, either from mechanical issues or all the things we've installed to make living out of it more comfortable. I learned to compensate for the pull over the years. She hates driving the van. She said, a year ago, that the pull was dangerous. I had told her she was dangerous, with a cheeky smile. We both laughed. 

“This is a good song.”

Her voice had a cold start. It pulled me back. My eyelids became heavy, like when you receive news your body rejects. She spoke to me as though I was an unpredictable foreign entity. Her words were tossed down a deep pit, only to hear how long it took for them to hit the ground. She was measuring me. I realized I did not know her anymore to the rhythm of a techno love song. The road became blurry as I stared at it through sagging eyelids. A loud breath was taken in by one of us, followed by an exasperated exhale. She turned back to the window. I did not want to watch the road anymore.

A local radio host walked us through the benefits of listening to his station like a desperate used car salesman. I think to myself that music is just music, but the love song sways my opinion. I hope I never hear that song again. I hope time is passing faster than it feels to be leaving me. I catch myself tapping the steering wheel anxiously, waiting for the song to stop replaying in my head. The van is pulling to the left, music should just be music, my jaw is starting to show a bruise.

A cluster of dragging minutes slip through my fingers, not much compared to the years I had just lost. I blink quickly until the road stops feeling like an endless cycle, until the tree moss stops feeling familiar. The GPS reads 10 hours and 23 minutes. Her seat squeaks and I look towards her, she was leaning over to peek at my face. When our eyes meet I think: cruel, cold, distant… right there. A million thoughts and emotions turn to a rolling boil inside me as I meet her gaze, looking for a reflection of my own. I wish, for a moment, my eyes were flamethrowers. I wish they would blast all that I’m feeling into her, onto her, so I could be less alone. The car continues to pull to the left as trees fly by behind her. I hold her gaze in a death grip, dreaming of searing these emotions onto her like a brand. Her pensive intrigue turns to burning concern, betrayal, pitiful, unearned. The truck's left wheels rolled off the road onto the dirt, she screamed my name. My eye twitches and I compensate. The road is smooth, the trees have moss, my hands are shaking. “It feels like we’ll never get there.” She doesn't respond. I would prefer this silence to be my only passenger. 

I always wanted to travel to the old-growth forests in Oregon. The forests are mystical, deep, enveloping. I went as far as to buy trail shoes and a nice-looking Polaroid camera. I told myself I would learn how to use it as I went. Back then I laughed with her, realizing how the photobook would double as a way of tracking my progress. When I moved in with her in Alturas, I took a photo of the two of us on her couch. It was woefully out of focus. We were two blurry collections of colors sitting on a red square. Our similarly thrifted shadeless lamp emanated orange light that silhouetted our blurry forms dramatically. We made mac and cheese after, with cut-up hotdogs. She had joked that, although I might not work for National Geographic anytime soon, I might have a future in surrealism. I laughed from deep in my chest as I hugged her from behind. She chuckled in my arms as she stirred the mix into the noodles. She felt so delicate. 

A white truck came down the opposite lane, its lights reflected on a puddle in the road. I was sent back to the first time I met Rebecca, at the Niles Theater in Alturas. I was just passing through, looking for some kind of inspiration, I don’t know what for. The theater’s sign caught my eye, it was raining so the bright green and red neon brought a splash of life to the town. It felt old, but confident, like it knew it belonged there. I was standing in front of the building, in the rain, for a few minutes before she called me out. I can’t remember what she said but she was good at her job. She talked me into buying two tickets to some animated movie, along with a large popcorn and Pepsi. Thinking back, she wasn’t too good at her job, since she left her post to watch it with me. I didn’t pay much attention to the movie, I was too nervous of making a strange noise or swallowing my soda loudly. I left to go to the bathroom and splashed some water on my face to sober up. I gave myself a pep talk and tried to remember what my friends back in college said about small-town girls. The music was loud when I walked back into the theater, it was sad. On-screen, it looked like one of the side characters had passed away. I snickered quietly at the absurdity of a sad animated movie. When I found my seat she was sitting still, eyes locked to the screen. Her hand was frozen in the popcorn bucket as tears streamed down her cheeks. I took my seat next to her and she looked to me, “You missed it.” Her eyes met mine with a shimmer of genuine sadness. “I’m sorry.” I meant it. She grabbed my arm like a pillow and held it to her side. I no longer felt scared of swallowing my soda loudly.

In the years that followed she had become my home. We lived in that small Alturas attic for 3 years before setting out for the big city. We brought the lamp, camera and not much else. I said I would learn to surf and become a professional photographer, she said she would make it as an actress. She has the looks for it. Backlit by a staggering beach sunset, she told me how our life would change forever when she finally got cast in “the role.” I found myself lost in her ambition, she told me how her plan would go as though it had already happened. That was the first time I wished I had more money since I had met Rebecca. Her empty ring finger was a soreness in my heart. I ended up calling my sister. 

I spent the day searching homeless shelters for a donation box they would let me look through. I found a shirt with buttons and pants that didn’t have holes. Some asking around brought me to a boy who couldn’t have been older than 17, who offered to cut my hair for free as long as he could record some obnoxious before and after video. Red, Rebecca’s new “celebrity name”, had a shift as an extra on the set of an indie movie about lesbian soccer players. She said this was her big break and I believed her. She also said she might be out late, the crew was going to celebrate wrapping up filming and she might be invited. I used this time to drive up to the fancy part of town to meet Sam in secrecy.

“Tastefully late, as always.”

“Traffic.” I sat down at the table she reserved. “You look good.”

“It’s a bit early to be stoaking my ego, sibling.”

“I was being honest, sibling.”

“Oh! So all it took was some time in the sun?” She leaned in, eyes sarcastically excited.

“More like out of it.” This was a bad decision, she's mad at me.

“Speaking of out of it, what the hell are you doing here? I can barely pay ren-” She paused.

“What?”

“Holy shit you're homeless, aren't you?”

“That's not why I called you, Samantha.” A headache showed on the horizon, rolling in fast.

“You finally hit rock bottom and you want me to bail you out.” She nodded to herself as she talked, as if uncovering some fantastical mystery.

“No, it's just been…”

“It’s been five years.”

“Huh?”

“Five fucking years, sibling.”

“There is no way that much time has passed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I should trust the wandering junkie over my globally accepted method of timekeeping. That's my bad, I’ll do better.”

I looked at her, hurt, her glare showed a crack. She blinked hard and looked around the room, tears starting to leak from the break. Something in my heart twisted a bit.

“Listen, Sammy, I-” deep breath, be honest, “I called you because I wanted to ask for the engagement ring.”

She looked dumbfounded. A flicker of rage passed behind her eyes before she looked at me closely.

“Holy shit, you actually found someone.”

“Yeah, I love her. A lot. Her name’s Rebecca.”

Sam wiped her eyes. “If she can handle you I'm sure she’s wonderful.”

We laughed quietly, in a pitiful attempt to not cause more of a scene in the restaurant she chose. “She is.”

Under the pressure of frustrated glares in outfits much more expensive than our own, we left before ordering anything. Sam took the whole roll of bread that was put on our table. I wish I had reached out years ago. I told her that I just said the funniest joke she’d ever heard and she understood immediately. We both obnoxiously laughed our way out of the restaurant, eating the bread. Their pompous frustration made me feel rich. We talked for a while, I was happy to hear she broke things off with Dale. It turns out he beat her. Eventually, we found a bar and she offered to buy me drinks to celebrate my soon-to-be engagement. Hours flew by as we talked, she had grown a lot but she was still my sister. She walked me through shots of her favorite whiskeys and I pretended that I could tell the difference between the brands. I noticed someone with a hoodie of the movie Red was working in and pointed it out. She smiled as I told her all about Red, I never noticed how proud I was of her. My heart swelled, fueled by whiskey and warm realizations and I ended up tearing up. Sammy joined my waterworks for a few minutes before we broke into tired laughter. Sammy left a nice tip and I thanked her for the drinks. She hugged me outside the bar, for a long time. “I thought I lost you, you can’t just leave like that. It’s not fair.” I hugged her back. “I’m so sorry, sibling. I’ll stay in touch.”

My phone rings in the cupholder, vibrating violently with a picture of Sammy. I press decline. The road is smooth, my heart is a knot, my jaw is sore. I turned off the radio. She moved but didn’t say anything. I could have sworn we passed that rock a few miles back. 

Rebecca was not where I usually picked her up that night. At first, I had worried that I was supposed to pick her up but remembered that she said she would be out late. I parked in our normal spot and hid the key in the wheel well so she could get inside when she came back. I dreamt of something beautiful, bright, and uplifting. I remember waking up excited. 

The GPS must have made a mistake, I know that tree. I open my mouth to ask her to check my phone but stop when I hear her whimpering quietly, hiding under her movie crew hoodie. My eye twitches three times as the knot tightens, the road feels like it is too bright. I become aware of my consciousness and feel it sloshing around in my brain.

She didn’t come back the next day. I had never been more worried in my life. My sister asked if I was using when she saw me to drop off the ring. I had bags under my eyes from searching the roads around the movie set throughout the night. Sammy helped me look, sitting in the passenger seat. She didn’t say anything about being correct that we were living out of a van. I appreciated that. We spent the whole day driving around town, checking police stations and homeless shelters. We were told at least 3 times that, if she was an adult, we had no cause to believe she was missing and didn’t just leave. Only one of the officers looked me in the eyes and said he would do what he could. The others looked at me like a story they had heard a million times. Sammy calmed me down and talked me into driving back to our parking spot.

Rebecca was sitting on the curb at our normal spot. She was wrapped in a blanket I’ve never seen. When I pulled into our spot she glared at the cement. Without a word she walked to the back of the van, opened the doors, and began collecting her things. Her makeup was smeared and her hair was a bird's nest. She was wearing a new hoodie for the movie she was working on, the same one I saw at the bar. I asked where she was but she didn’t respond. I stepped out and walked back to her, asking what the hell she was doing. She looked at me, finally, with a look I had never seen on her. She looked like a small bomb, as though she had so much to say that no words would be enough. She squinted back tears and turned back to her pile of things, wrapping them in the blanket she was wearing. I grabbed her shoulders and asked her what I did, by now my sister had walked around to stand behind me and Rebecca finally saw her. Her eyes flared up. She struck me hard across the jaw with a 5 lb yoga weight.

I regained consciousness a minute or so later, Sammy gently shook me until I was able to tell her to stop. Rebecca was curled up in a ball, wailing. Sammy told me she explained who she was to Rebecca. She told me what Rebecca had done at the celebration party after seeing us at the bar, hugging and crying. I had regained consciousness but the world around me seemed blurry. I stood up, gave back the small box Sammy had brought me, and called Rebecca's parents. They had moved to Portland. Sammy hugged me when I put the phone down, I felt nothing. My eyes locked on my Polaroid camera, held up in storage netting above Rebecca as she let out horrible, guttural sobs about how she didn’t know. Sammy said she lived near here, that she would walk home, and that I should call her soon. I calmly reached above Rebecca, taking the camera, our first photo, and the shadeless lamp. I handed them to Sammy, I did not look her in the eyes. Without a word, I began driving Rebecca back to her parents. 

The car ride was silent for the first hour. There’s a foreign and desperate feeling somewhere deep in my mind, clawing. I blink away ringing in my ear and reach into the glove compartment for headache medicine. After a while, Rebecca climbs up to the front seat. I feel nothing when I notice the hoodie is 3 sizes too large for her, and that she is only wearing panties underneath. She doesn't say anything. I feel something bubble up in her mind and grow on the tip of her tongue. The tip of her tongue. I blink away the ringing. The road is smooth. She opens her mouth and I roll down the window. My jaw is sore. The wind roars and her words fall back down her throat, catching on the way. She gasps, broken, sucking in air before quietly sobbing into her curled-up knees. My thoughts feel tangled. I feel suspended in time, preserved by the task of driving. Delicate China, teeter-tottering over the edge of a table. My eye twitches violently when my mind asks me what I will do after I drop her off. I whisper a private wish under the window's howl, begging that I never drop her off.