He popped the trunk and got out along with her, yelling across the car. “You’re going to be sorry about this.”
“Got that right. I’m already sorry. Sorry I met you.”
Derek took out Zoey’s suitcase, his anger and voice ramping up more with each word. “What the hell makes you think you’re so perfect? You think anyone else would go through what I did to get you to come home? You’re not even worth it.”
Then, after taking a few steps and a windup, Derek launched her suitcase down the embankment. He stomped back to get into his car, but right before he did, he bared his teeth and pointed a finger.
“Good luck!” he shouted from across the roof in an attempt to be heard over the passing traffic.
He got back into his car and rolled down the passenger window. Like an idiot, she took a step over to the car and peered in. “And just to set the record straight, I didn’t come to New York for you. I went there for Ruth.”
She could read his lips as if she couldn’t hear him loud and clear. By the end they had curled up in a sneer. Even if it was a lie, there was truth behind it. She backed away from the car, standing straight up, looking off into the horizon. Even when she didn’t care one whit about him, he still managed to hurt her.
With the tires screeching loud enough to be heard over the muffler and kicking up dust, he peeled away, accompanied by the sound of a car horn blaring as he merged. She saw his hand thrust out the driver’s side, middle finger up. Whether it was directed at her or the honking driver was immaterial. He had managed to kill two birds with one stone.
Zoey watched his car, and the finger, until it was out of sight. Then she half stepped, half slid her way down the steep embankment, scooping up what she hoped was her own toothbrush as she passed it. Her suitcase had opened up upon landing, likely with some unzippering help from Derek before he heaved it. As she gathered up her remaining possessions from the shrubs and weeds, she began to laugh again. Never had she seen karma work so quickly.
“This is nothing less than I deserve.” She pulled a pair of her panties out of a thorny bush and contemplated the ironic significance while chucking it back in the suitcase. “I never made an impulsive decision that didn’t end up kicking me in the ass.”
It became a game, retrieving her scattered garments, balling them up, then shooting them in the direction of the open suitcase. She wanted to take her time, because as soon as she climbed back up the small hill, she would have to get back to deciding what she was going to do next. There were only a few hours of daylight left. If she didn’t find a way off the highway, she was going to be in deep trouble. She seriously doubted taxis picked up from the side of a toll road, especially when you couldn’t tell them exactly where you were. Then she spied her magic bag, open with at least half the jars of spices broken in the impact, sprinkling a dust of their own on the ground. All her laughter came to an end and her eyes burned with tears she refused to shed.
How had it come to this? Only hours ago she was making love on a golf course with the man who made her feel like the most cherished, beautiful woman in the world. Now she was battling bees for what was left of her toiletries. Was there a part of her that secretly deemed her worthy of only drama and failure? She had stayed with Derek long past their relationship’s expiration date. She was having trouble remembering why she married him. Had she gone to New York for adventure, or to try and watch over her sister, or for something else entirely? And what about her business? She had been so gung-ho when she started it. So much so, she curtailed all other activities to make it a success, then threw it all away to go back to Ohio.
“Heeeeyyy!” Zoey turned toward the sound coming from the highway.
Zoey squinted through the sun up the ditch. It was a woman, standing on the shoulder. At least it sounded like a woman. It was hard to tell. All she could make out for certain were a baseball cap and sunglasses. Her hands were planted on her hips. The backdrop, an eighteen-wheeler.
“You okay down there?” the figure asked.
“Yeah!” Zoey called back, hustling to gather up the rest of her things.
“Need any help?” Zoey’s savior took a few steps in making her way down the embankment.
“No, I got it.” Zoey zipped the suitcase closed and started dragging it back up the hill.
When Zoey reached the shoulder, she stood the suitcase up and brushed the dirt off her butt and the backs of her legs. She took a seat on the suitcase to catch her breath, finally able to take it all in. It was a woman, and a petite one at that. She was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt that upon closer inspection read keep calm and carry bacon. A woman after her own heart. The brunette hair under the cap was in a ponytail. She looked to be near to forty, with a cautious smile.
“Thanks for stopping,” Zoey said, wiping the sweat off her brow with a dirty hand.
“I was driving by when I saw that guy make the throw. What a dick.”
“Yeah. Soon-to-be ex-husbands can get pretty touchy.”
“He’s lucky I can’t stop on a dime, or he would’ve been staring down the barrel of my forty-five. I got his plate number when he passed me before I turned around. You want me to call the cops?”
“Hell no,” Zoey replied. “Believe it or not, this was the best-case scenario. With any luck, I’ll never see him again. Ever.”
“Well, all righty then. Come on, I’ll give you a lift to the next rest stop. Name’s Phyllis.”
Phyllis motioned for Zoey to stand up, and she took the suitcase to store in the big rig’s lower storage compartment. She was surprisingly strong for such a tiny woman.
“I’m Zoey. Thanks again.” She knew about the dangers of accepting rides from strangers, but this was the kind of serendipitous moment that you don’t take for granted.
Phyllis was not only strong, she was also wiry. While Zoey scaled the side of the truck cab like she was trying for an attempt at Mount Everest, Phyllis had already swung herself back in the saddle with the ease of a well-oiled spider monkey. She leaned way over and opened Zoey’s door for her final heave-ho.
Zoey settled into the passenger seat, preparing to share space with a cloud of stale cigarette smoke, a slew of empty coffee cups, and stacks of lady porn.
But she was mostly wrong. The inside of Phyllis’s cab was pristine and smelled like bubble gum. There was a cup of coffee in the cup holder, next to a liter bottle of water. Phyllis buckled her seat belt, cranked the mighty shifter into gear, and after checking that the coast was clear, the big rig jolted forward and they eased back into traffic.
“Where you headed?”
Phyllis had unwittingly asked the million-dollar question. Zoey didn’t want to go to Cleveland. It wasn’t just because of Derek either. Her parents would try to push her back into Derek’s arms. In their eyes, marriage was for better or for worse with few exceptions. There was nothing for her back in New York either, other than a sister who had deceived her and the love she had stupidly cast aside.
“Honestly?” Zoey said. “I don’t know.”
“You’re welcome to ride along with me for a spell. This load dumps in Detroit.”
The Motor City. It was as good a place as any. “Thanks. I’m going to take you up on that, if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t’ve asked if I did.”
From all the stereotypical things Zoey knew about truckers, Phyllis was supposed to be longing for company and conversation. But there was nothing typical about the woman who had come to her rescue. Phyllis wasn’t chatty. Zoey couldn’t even consider her as overly friendly. She had no interest in probing Zoey for details on how she ended up a damsel in distress. She kept her eyes on the road and her vibe screamed that she didn’t suffer fools lightly. It was a safe assumption, considering she was willing to point a gun at Derek. That alone was reason enough for Zoey to like her.
“What made you want to be a truck driver?”
“I wanted to travel, but hate to fly. I figure, when I see everything there is to see here, th
en I’ll bite that bullet.”
Was her response designed to start the conversation, or end it? Zoey was too weary to analyze or worry that she needed to fill the dead air.
A Garth Brooks song began to play inside the cab, one of her mother’s favorites. A random memory flashed in her head. Zoey and Ruth as children, in the backseat of their parents’ minivan during countless road trips to various, usually historical family vacation destinations. The memory in question involved a trip to Williamsburg, Virginia. It was a game they played to kill time. Whenever they passed one of those big rigs, they would wait to see if the truck driver would look, then hold up one of their arms and pull it down repeatedly, a universal sign used as a request for the truck driver to sound the horn. The giggling that would result when the truck driver complied, the way they would stick their tongues out when they didn’t. It was Garth on the radio when Zoey knew they had outgrown the game and Ruth switched to giving a one-finger salute to stone-faced drivers who dared to ignore them. Ruth and Derek really did have lots in common.
Ruth. Always making up her own rules, usually ruining the game for both of them in the process. The same Ruth who sided with Derek. It was more than she wanted to think about right now. Zoey opted for closing her eyes, and within minutes she was asleep.
Zoey was startled out of her nap by the sound of the truck’s horn. It was a loud rapid beeping sequence, like the trucker’s version of Morse code. Another truck, on the opposite side of the highway, began doing the same. It was a volley of deep, rowdy, ear-vibrating sounds that had her bolting upright in her seat. It was almost dark.
“Sorry,” Phyllis said with a sideways glance. She flipped on the CB. “Nothing’s wrong. That was my husband.”
“You’re married?” Zoey asked, still trying to gather her bearings out of the sleep cobweb.
“Yeah, he’s my Bubba.”
“His name is Bubba?”
“His name is Jeff.” Phyllis gave a Zoey a smile. “Bubba is a little nickname that truckers call each other. Sometimes I call him Billy Big Rigger when I want to tick him off. He drives a route too. He’s heading to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.”
It was the first real emotion she had displayed since picking Zoey up.
Suddenly the CB lit up and came alive. A man’s deep voice rang in the cabin.
“Hey, little mamma. Is that a seat cover I saw in there?”
Phyllis pushed the button on the side of the microphone and laughed into it. “That’s an affirmative. Glad to see you’re wearing your glasses.”
“I was getting worried about you, was afraid you got bit by a bear in the bushes. I expected to see you about an hour ago at the split.”
“Yeah, I was helping a damsel in distress. Say hi to Zoey.”
“Hi, Zoey.” Jeff obediently complied.
She pushed the button and the microphone in Zoey’s direction.
“Hi, Jeff.”
“Keep an eye on my girl there. Make sure she’s not having any shutter trouble.”
“Okay,” Zoey said, without having the slightest clue what she had agreed to.
Phyllis brought the CB handset back to her own mouth. “So, yeah, the only thing in the bushes for me today was a snake in a roller skate.”
Zoey didn’t need much clarification there. She had an excellent idea of just who the snake was.
“Bet you showed him a thing or two.” Jeff added a laugh of his own.
“That’s a negatory. Didn’t get the chance.”
“The Lord was with him today.”
“Or the devil. How you doing, Bubba?”
“Had to mash the motor after some road-rager went greasy-side up. Had me brake-checking for miles. Luckily, the coop was all locked up so I saved some quality time. I’ll make it to the yard tonight, but might miss the lumpers. I’ll fingerprint that shit myself to get out of there.”
“Flex those muscles, handsome. Me and seat cover here are going to pull into the next rest-a-ree-a and fill up on some go-go juice.”
Zoey could hardly contain her glee at the exchange taking place. It was true, truckers did have a language all their own. She wasn’t sure exactly what they were saying, but it was every bit as amusing as she’d hoped it would be. She was, however, pretty sure that she was the seat cover.
“Be careful they don’t confuse you two for a couple of lot lizards.”
Phyllis let loose a hearty laugh. “Fat chance. You be careful out there now, ya hear? This life ain’t no fun without you.”
The last thing Zoey heard, before Phyllis turned the CB off, was Jeff saying, “Love you, baby girl.”
“That was amazing.” Zoey giggled, completely enthralled.
Phyllis released a much more subdued laugh, shaking her head, and said with true affection, “He’s been waiting for that since we knew we were going to pass each other. It makes his day when I play along. And he really gets off talking like that when he knows there’s a captive audience. He’s such a goofball. I only turn the radio on when I pass him, or I’m stuck in traffic.”
“I figured you would have it on all the time.”
“Honey, this is the twenty-first century. We use cell phones the same as everyone else.”
“What the heck is a lot lizard?”
“A prostitute that works lined-up rigs at a rest stop.”
“Oh,” Zoey said. “They really have those?”
Phyllis graced Zoey with a look that translated her disbelief that a person could be so naive. “Yeah. They’re also referred to as commercial company. Guy ones are called male buffalo.”
Zoey may have been ignorant, but it didn’t curtail her fascination. In fact, it added to it.
They exited at the ramp into the rest stop and slowly pulled into the lanes to get gas. Phyllis swung down from the cab to deal with the go-go juice. Zoey carefully got out to make a beeline for the bathroom on the other side of the parking lot, keeping an eye out for any sign of lot lizards on the way.
“How long have you two been married?” Zoey asked from her side of the table after they met up at the stop’s main building and ordered some burgers and fries from the Burger King.
“Almost twenty years. Probably lasted that long ’cause of all the time apart.”
“I guess absence makes the heart grow fonder?”
“It probably sounds unconventional to most folks. But it works for us.”
“People need to mind their own business.”
“Hallelujah, sister.”
They finished eating and went back to the truck, where Phyllis took a nap and Zoey mostly kept watch for any sign of the activity Phyllis alluded to. It was a lizard- and buffalo-free night, and Zoey was mildly disappointed. As soon as Phyllis woke up two hours later, they were back on the road.
“I log a crap-ton of miles during the nighttime hours,” Phyllis said.
* * *
Zoey stayed with Phyllis for three days, stopping at countless greasy spoons and truck stops along the way. They made for good traveling companions. Phyllis had an aversion to extraneous small talk, although she would swear a blue streak when reckless idiots cut her off. Jeff checked in with his wife several times a day, mostly by phone. It was heartwarming to see Phyllis’s softer side during those conversations.
Zoey let her phone battery die and never bothered to recharge it. She had nothing to say. To anybody.
Zoey was finally able to hear herself think. During the days, she watched hundreds of miles of scenery fly by the passenger window. It was different from the road trips she had taken as a child. This time, there was no final destination to get excited about reaching, just miles of open road. She tried to associate it with where she was in her life. All her roads were open. Now she just had to choose one.
After they left Detroit, Zoey insisted on treating Phyllis to a night in a nice hotel, mostly because she was starting to get a backache from all the sleeping she did sitting up and she was desperate for a good shower. She got them separate but adjoining rooms, saying both
of them were probably ready for a little privacy. Phyllis didn’t argue.
They showered and met up to head down to the hotel’s restaurant for a good meal. Zoey did a double take. Phyllis was dressed in a flowery sundress with a cropped jacket. Her hair was down around her shoulders in waves, and she had applied some lipstick. She looked adorable.
“I know.” Phyllis grinned. “I clean up nice.”
They sat over prime rib and a bottle of wine, both of them savoring a meal that wasn’t fast food.
“I’m looking forward to getting home,” Phyllis said during dessert. “I haven’t been in the same room with Jeff in almost a month. That’s not to say I’m not going to appreciate the hell out of that bed upstairs tonight.”
“Do you ever get lonely?” Zoey replied.
Phyllis was thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes. Not too often. I like my own company. And you know, there is a huge difference between being lonely and alone. Both serve a purpose. When you’re alone, you can listen to what your heart really has to say without other people’s opinions getting in the way. You just have to be strong enough to live your truth after you hear it. And you can be in a room full of people and still be lonely.”
For a woman of few words, Phyllis really knew how to drive a point home. Zoey took the statement and reflected on how it applied to her own life. Was it a fear of loneliness that kept her with Derek as long as she did? After all, she didn’t have to move to New York to get rid of him. She could’ve crossed the bridge and moved to Cleveland. But at the time, she just couldn’t bear the thought of running into Derek and having him see her struggling.
And was it a fear of loneliness that kept her as Ruth’s roommate? She knew the kind of life Ruth led. It was easier to wallow in disapproval than strike out on her own.
Which brought her to Tristan. It was likely she was so gung-ho about making him over because she projected her own fear of being lonely onto him. No, that wasn’t true either. He may have started out alone, but it was clear he had gotten lonely. It’s what made him reach out to her in the first place. Their backstories might have been different, but a lot of their motives were the same.
Under the Table Page 17