Time Lines

Evalee:

Ten days. That was how long Jimmy said it would take us to drive from New York to San Francisco. Comfortably.

I don’t want to drive more than five hours a day if I don’t have to, he’d said to me as we finalized our plan. I usually go along with whatever he says. It’s just easier that way. And what did I care how many days it would take us to get there? I’d been counting down days for the past two years, seventy-three days and eleven hours.

Now? We were driving towards a new life— one I knew could be the break I needed. From him, I mean. From Jimmy. How to do it was a whole bigger thing, but I had ten days, I figured, to sort it all out. Trouble was, by day nine, I still didn’t know. I was waiting for divine intervention, I suppose. Or maybe some rare courage.

The first couple of days went ok, really. I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending with Jimmy, he’s completely clueless about my true feelings. Can’t see anyone but himself in all things.

I learned how to pretend from watching my mom with my dad when I was a kid peeking from the darkness of the stairwell as she talked to her sister in Omaha on the phone about him, all the dirty details of it. Then acted a whole different way once he came home. I saw real clearly, real early, how the truth is not always what it seems. How people hold secrets in the dark and pray for change in the light.

Ohio, Indiana, Missouri, Kansas.

It was all the same to me really. I tried to keep things light in the car, find good music on the radio, have good snacks at the ready, make small talk. Let him pick the hotel or the campsite and act pleased with his suggestions. Keep the peace and Jimmy’s spirits high so as not to incite any anger or frustration with me. He gets that way sometimes. Just like my dad did. Until he disappeared and mom and I were on our own. A blessing in disguise though she cried anyway.

Jimmy won’t ever disappear so I will have to, that much I know. I can handle it now, though, because I know there is an end in sight. This is my free ride out West and then I’ll figure out my escape plan from Jimmy.

Once we hit Colorado, I started to feel a sense of relief and hope. You know, an obvious shift both geographic and internal just hit me. All those endless, featureless plains and nothingness flatlands that stretch forever reflected the endless drab of my own interior after six long years with Jimmy. Then suddenly, the rising mountains, big sky and sunset horizons of the western states reminded me that my future was spreading out ahead of me.

Expansive. Clear blue. Wide and limitless. Anything would be possible, I really felt that.

Chess:

I wasn’t trying to apple-polish him, I just wanted him to see that he could help me out. I had ten days to get from Boston to Los Angeles to make good on a deal and I needed Alec’s expertise to make it all go real smooth. After dumping me flat—Rhonda just dumping me flat like that without any warning—and no promising prospects for real work, I had to get out of there and this deal was my ticket. I was lucky it had come my way at the right time.

This time. This time would be different.

“Alec, listen, dude. I don’t have much money right now but if you fix the van up so it’s road-worthy for this long trip, I’ll cut you in on the deal. Once I get to Los Angeles, that is,” I said.

I’d known Alec since we were kids and we looked out for each other as best we could without getting in each other’s way. Lucky for me, he was a bit desperate, too, and agreed to do the work and get paid later and I was ready to hit the road. I made good time the first couple days out and my intention was strong but knowing I had the ten days to get there I dilly dallied here, ambled a little there. Who doesn’t love a road trip, right, and I needed some space to think some things through.

I made the best of all those long stretches across the midwestern states with some good tunes and plenty of time to ruminate and wonder what’s next. Maybe I’ll just stay in L.A. Find myself a sandy beach hut and a good woman and call it a day. I’ll have a good hunk of dough to last me a bit, long enough to sort it all out, I figure. Start all over. For now? It was just me and that long, white line. Miles and miles of cows and fields and tractors and junk cars and worn-out shacks. Over and over again. Then things started looking different.

By the time I hit Utah, I was bone tired but hopeful. The scenery had changed inside and out. Like I woke up and could finally smell the coffee. See the nature of possibility, the light at the end of the tunnel. All those hackneyed metaphors that mean nothing until they do. I detoured a bit to take in the marvels of the western landscape, I mean, when would I be back this way again, you know? Zion. Now, that’s a true wonder. Makes you feel small and insignificant but amazed and positively inspired all at once.

You think about all the people who’ve gone before you in these parts, walked the same dusty trails through these dry, hot, red rock canyons. Stepped into the same river and splashed water on their face just like I did. The magnificence of it all leaves you wordless. Breathless. It could put the faith of God in ya when you need it most. I suppose we all need something to move us, to push us on to find our way. Walking back to my car after a good long hike and long, hard think, I felt it. I caught a good feeling that this trip, this thing is a turning point for me.

Get straight. Get right with all things. Lead a cleaner, better life. We’ll see. Only time will tell.

But I could have one last hurrah before any of that needed to happen, I decided, as I headed back down the road in the van. So, I stopped in Vegas for the night and blew almost all of the last of my wad but I had that money waiting for me in L.A. the next day to count on, so I didn’t care. No, I didn’t have great luck in Vegas, never have been good at gambling, but I knew real good luck was waiting for me elsewhere.

Just knew it.

I headed out early to shake the dust of that town off and I couldn’t sleep anyway, feeling anxious about the toughest part of the trip ahead of me. Could anything, would anything go wrong with this thing?

But everything was easy. Imagine that. I guess I’m on the right road after all. No wrong turns, no back alley burns. No shifty, uncharted mishaps or misdeeds or Hollywood movie villains. They were, all three of them, college frat-boy looking guys, no muss no fuss. Go figure. After making the clean, done deal in the desert at dusk that morning just as we planned it, I pulled away with those who-knows-who guys in my rearview. For good, I’d hoped. I was so ready to finish off this last leg, make the drop, get on with my life.

Hit the refresh button.

Day Ten - Somewhere near Barstow

Evalee:

“Ah, shit,” Jimmy said, hitting the steering wheel with his hand. “The goddamn tire indicator light keeps coming on. I’m gonna need to stop and have it checked out. Can’t drive on a low tire.”

OK, was all I said. I was bleary from an early start after camping out in the desert and a long, restless night and Jimmy didn’t want to take time to make breakfast. He was always in a hurry like that. Didn’t care what I might want or need, he had his schedule to keep. A timeline to pay attention to. For what or why, who knows, that was just the way he was. Stubborn. Rigid. Non-negotiable.

I was hoping he’d stop somewhere that had a decent cup of coffee and a clean bathroom but I wasn’t gonna ask. Nope. Lucky for me, first place we came to was one of those gas stations with a mechanic’s garage and a diner and gift shop attached. Jimmy pulled to a fast stop just in front of the garage and jumped out of the car, leaving me there without so much as a word.

I pulled the visor down and checked my eyes in the tiny mirror. Brushed my bangs to one side and pinched my cheeks for color. Pulled some tinted lip balm out of my jeans pocket and gave myself a refresh.

I grabbed my purse from under my seat and checked to make sure my secret stash of money was in the special hidden pocket I’d sewn into the lining before we left New York. I’d fixed it the same way I watched my mom do one day just before my dad left us. Jimmy was already chatting with the mechanic in plain view and pointing back towards the car when I hopped out. I gave him a wave and gestured to let him know I was going into the diner.

The air smelled dry and a little dirty as I ambled across the parking lot and into “Roxie’s” to check things out.

The place was about half-full of all sorts of people, no one you’d call interesting right off the bat. Pure Americana, if you ask me. Except. There was this one guy sitting alone at the end of the counter. His head was turned to one side and he seemed to be watching me walk across the floor towards the take-out area.

He sure was a good-lookin’ guy, dirty blond hair swept to one side like some kind of urban Jeremiah Johnson or something for goodness sakes. Built solid. Rugged. Sitting there in a gray shirt, loose blue jeans and black boots. But I looked away as I got closer to the counter to order my coffee. Maybe he was just gazing out the window, anyway, and not even noticing me.

Lost in thought. Planning his life. Who knows about anyone, anyhow.

Chess:

The door jingled when she walked into the coffee shop, alerting me to turn and look up at that moment to take her in. I mean, all of her. In. She was like a breath of fresh air to me. Like nothin’ I’d ever seen before. Floating across the diner then suddenly landing there.

Standing there.

Next to me, my seat at the end of the counter near the cashier, and she, just there. Beautiful. Not even noticing me or the air we shared in that small space between us. Me breathing in her exhale. Me catching the scent of her lotion, her warm, salty skin aroma drifting my way, entering my bloodstream.

“I’d like a tall coffee with cream. To go, please,” she said, to the nodding woman behind the register.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her long black hair. A perfect, loose strand of it tickling at the valley of her throat from the gentle wave movement of the overhead fan she stood directly under. I’d just as soon be that piece of hair so lucky to lick away in the notch of her bisque-colored skin. Mere inches below a perfected, dimpled chin.

Full, shimmering lips. I watched as her slender fingers went quietly rummaging through her wallet and pulled out a bill. I scanned her surreptitiously, her blue jeans and t-shirt hugging just the right places of her lithe figure. She looked like a dancer. Moved. Like a dancer.

“To go where?” I blurted out.

“Excuse me?” she said, looking my way with stunning blue eyes, surprised.

“Tall coffee to go. Where ya goin’, headed where, I mean?” I asked her.

“Who wants to know?”

I smiled and reached my hand out to her, saying, I’m Chess. And you?

She smiled at me and asked, Like the board game? and I said Yes. Like the board game. Then she told me her name and we just kinda hit it off. I can’t explain it. Like our paths were destined to meet right there, right then in that greasy little spoon on the side of the road to nowhere and somewhere all at once. A split-second in freeze frame before all the big action happened and the world shifted into something sublime and surreal and just so right and good and happily ever after.

She told me how the tire light had come on and her boyfriend was having it checked by the mechanic. Out there. And she pointed towards the door then looked back at me. He would be getting gas, too. Checking the oil. Organizing things in the car. She might as well sit for a minute and chat a bit. I could tell right away something was not right with her and the boyfriend, just something told me in my gut she wasn’t happy.

Needed a rescue.

She told me they were on their way to San Francisco, but I didn’t care. I’d already made another plan in my head. Was I crazy to think it? To actually say it? I don’t know what came over me exactly in that moment when I said those words to her that sealed a fate. Intersected our lines in time. In that very impeccable, precise moment in time. It was uncanny. Supernatural.

You see, we had both left home on the same day at the same hour to drive away from our now past lives. And, quite certainly, towards each other. To meet right there. I just knew it. It was just too coincidental to not mean anything. The spark too strong. My body was vibrating.

“Come with me.”

What? she asked.

“Come with me,” I said again. “To L.A. Just leave all your shit in your boyfriend’s van and come with me. Right now. Let’s go.”

She let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head emphatically side to side but by the time her head stopped moving she was standing, pulling her purse up onto her shoulder.

Let’s go then.