Gas and Lucky Strikes

There was an eighth left in the tank and thirty miles until the next station. I was praying I’d make it. The limit was sixty, but I turned on cruise control at fifty to lower the consumption just a little more. The roads are near empty after two in the morning. Every set of headlights is desperate to get to its destination. Wherever that might be. Home, holiday, a loved one. I was in no hurry. When the gas station finally came in sight on the right, the fuel symbol on my dash was rapidly blinking in red. They look so different in the nighttime. Deserted and devoid of life. Just the pumps lit from above by lampposts. One of them was flickering fast enough to make your eyes hurt.

I filled up the tank, blowing a huge dent in my nearly depleted savings, then locked the car doors before walking through the door towards the attendant sitting in his glass cage in the corner of the seedy-looking place. “Evening. Pump five and a pack of Lucky Strikes please,” I said to the man behind the counter. He was a young man. If I had to make a guess, I’d say he’d just passed his mid-twenties. I was trying to cut back on my smoking, but the only other person at the station having a cigarette next to the entrance just gave me that longing I couldn’t resist. He rang up the total. Ninety-four, sixty. I gave him two bills with Grant’s face, making Andrew Jackson the only inhabitant of my wallet until Lincoln joined him. “Busy night?” I asked him.

“Only had two cars in the last three hours.”

“I always wondered, what do you do to keep busy during night shifts?”

He took something from below the counter and held it up for me to see. It was a Sylvia Plath novel. “It’s rather depressing, really. She always is though. Should’ve known what I was getting into.”

It was only when he looked me in the eyes again that I saw they were faintly red. Then I noticed the streaks below them. They were dried up completely, but it was clear he’d been crying. “You alright man? Can’t imagine ‘t was just the book.” He only gave a slight nod before casting his gaze downwards. “You smoke?” I asked him, opening the pack.

“I’m not allowed to leave this unattended,” he said, indicating the glass habitat.

“There’s nobody here, who gives a shit.”

He was silent for a few seconds, running it over in his head, then he gave me a nod and got up. He walked to the glass door, put the key in, and unlocked it. Once outside, he locked the door behind him again and followed me as I walked to the door.

I shook out two cigarettes and put one in my mouth and offered the other one to him. That scratch when you inhale the first cloud of smoke. There’s nothing quite like it. It’s why I hate light cigarettes, they don’t give you that same sensation. I handed him my zippo lighter and as he held the flame to the end of his cigarette asked him, “so, what happened?”

“A woman. Like always.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I said before taking another drag. “Girlfriend, fiancé, wife?”

“Girlfriend,” he said, sitting down on the curb. “If I can even call it that. It’s also fucked nowadays, man. What the hell is a situationship? What does that even mean? Either you’re with someone or you’re not.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“‘bout a month. Things happened so fast. We met and there was this connection. Just like that, instantly. We spent nearly every free hour together, you know. Told each other everything. Things neither of us had ever shared with anyone else. And it just felt right. Then, all of a sudden, she broke it off, saying things moved too quickly and she wasn’t ready for commitment.”

“If you aren’t dating for marriage, you’re dating for heartbreak. That’s what my dad always told me when I was younger. Proved himself right over the years too. Too bad I couldn’t tell him. Everybody is so scared of commitment nowadays. Scarred by previous relationships. Afraid of change. Afraid of being loved.”

“Why do you think that is?” he asked. “Being afraid of being loved, I mean.”

“Depends on the person. When I was younger, I used to hate myself. I couldn’t imagine anyone loving me. I had nothing going for me except for the girl I was with at the time, and then I pushed her away because of it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Every single day. She was amazing, I realised, looking back. She wanted to stick around when I was at my lowest. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. A year later she moved away, and we lost contact. What was your girl like?”

“Bubbly. Kind. Enthusiastic about everything, like, you couldn’t even imagine. Some funny-shaped cloud would have her staring at the sky for five minutes straight. Great looks too, but, you know, those fade eventually.”

“What’s her name?”

“Melissa,” he said, and I saw tears brimming in his eyes. We sat in silence for a while, looking at the tail lights passing on the highway. Both of us quietly took drags of our cigarettes for a minute or two. Then he asked, “how’d you get over her.”

“Time. Lots and lots of time, mostly. Hooked up with some random girls too, but that just left me feeling empty in the end, so it’s not something I can recommend. Wrote down what I felt in a letter for catharsis and put it in the mailbox without an address on it. It’ll get easier over time, but slowly. You’ll think about her from time to time even years from now, but your feelings towards her will change. Right now, I’m just thankful I met her and I’m sorry I didn’t love her with everything I had. Cruel lesson, but it'll stop hurting in time.”

“And when will that be?”

“When it’s done teaching you the lesson.”

“So, what did it teach you?”

“To always love someone with your whole heart. It’ll be too much for some women, God knows I smothered more than one relationship that way, but you’ll never regret it. And one day, when the right person comes around, she’ll stick around. But first you’ll get hurt many more times.”

“Where are you going?” he asked, nodding at my car still at the pump.

“I’m not going anywhere, just going,” I said. He looked at me puzzled, so I clarified. “I don’t have any destination in mind. My relationship ended, same as yours. It was some time ago, but I just couldn’t stand all the familiar sights. The cafés we got coffee, the parks we walked, the beach where we met. It was all just… a little too much.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Same thing that happened to you. The girl up and left. Something about previous relationships and having to work on herself. Same soup, just reheated. I have no regrets though. The time we spent together was pretty damn amazing, but that’s also why it hurt so much.”

“What did she teach you?”

“Huh?”

“You said the pain fades when it has taught you the lesson. So what did it teach you?”

“Sometimes you can do everything right and it still won’t work out. I have no regrets about anything we did, so that can’t be it. I think she taught me what it can feel like to be loved by the right person at the wrong time. But it’s still hurting, so there’s probably more to it,” I scoffed. “I’ll let you know when I find out,” I said as I crushed the cigarette on the concrete. “What did it teach you?”

“I’m not sure yet. I guess I’ll find out soon though. Plenty of time to think here.”

“Well, I’ve got to go and hit the road again. Stay safe,” I said and got up.

“Stay safe? I’m in a bulletproof glass box all night.”

“Not what I meant, brother,” I said tapping my chest with my fist twice. “That’s what you’ve got to protect. Don’t let anyone break you to the point where there’s no rebuilding.”

He nodded. “You too. Thanks for the cigarette. And the talk.”

“No problem. Now, go do some thinking,” I said as I got back in my car. I put it in first gear and gave the horn a double tap before driving off into the cold, lonely night, waiting for the sun to rise once again.