by John Rector
“My mistake.”
“That’s right, it was, so when you report back to your girl out there, you tell her I’m fine and then you tell her to mind her own fucking business.”
He stared at me, and I did my best not to blink.
It didn’t work.
The man shouldered his backpack then brushed past me, out of the men’s room and into the diner.
I stood for a while, staring at the closed door, not sure what to do next. I told myself not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t help it. If that was what I got for trying to be nice, then lesson learned.
Before I left, I went back to the stall and took a closer look at all the blood on the floor. I didn’t know what was wrong with the guy, but it was obvious that pretty soon there was going to be one less asshole in the world.
That was good enough for me.
When I came out of the bathroom, the man was gone. Sara was sitting in the booth. She stared at me as I got closer, waiting.
“He’s fine,” I said.
“That’s it?”
“What else do you want?” I picked up the check and said, “We still need gas. You ready to go?”
“Did he say anything at all?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Anything. He ran out of here in a hurry. You weren’t nasty to him, were you?”
I looked out the window at the parking lot. There were one or two cars out there, but I didn’t see him around any of them and that was just fine.
“I asked if he was okay, and he said he was.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Sara stared at me. “You’re not telling me something.”
“I’m telling you what he said. Now we need to get going if we want to stay ahead of that storm, unless you want to spend the night in this diner.”
Sara frowned then slid out of the booth and started back toward the bathrooms. “I’ll meet you out front,” she said. “But we’re not through talking about this. You’re hiding something from me, and I can tell. You’re a shitty liar.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
She didn’t say anything else, just kept walking.
I stood at the table and watched her go.
Sara wasn’t a beauty, at least not in a movie star sort of way, but watching her walk made me ache inside.
It was like watching something dirty.
Everything slid just right.
Once she was gone I counted out enough money to cover the bill and a small tip, then I dropped it on the table. I picked up my coffee cup and drank the last cold bit then stared out the window at the storm coming in over the empty fields lining the highway.
I thought again about turning back to I-80, but pushed the idea away. The storm was moving fast and I didn’t want to take the chance of getting stuck. Our only option was to keep moving. We could still make it if we hurried.
As I was leaving, the waitress came out of the kitchen and thanked me. “You two be safe out there,” she said.
I told her we’d try.
3
I watched the numbers on the gas pump roll by for a long time. It was depressing, and when I’d had enough I turned away and stared out across the parking lot toward the empty highway and the swirling snow.
The sky to the north was a black and gray mass, pulsing like something alive. It was getting closer, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The longer I stared, the more my mind let go and twisted the clouds. Soon I was seeing shapes and faces moving behind the storm.
It wasn’t a good sign.
Usually, that detached feeling was followed by blinding headaches, but since I’d already taken more of my pills than I should have, I didn’t think I had anything to worry about this time.
I closed my eyes and tried my best to relax. I told myself I was just tired from the road, and that seemed to help. When I opened my eyes again, the storm was just a storm. Beautiful and cold.
“Hey, kid.”
I turned around, fast.
The man from the lunch counter held up his hands and smiled. “Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I told him he didn’t, but my voice cracked when I spoke. I cursed myself under my breath.
He came around the car to where I was standing. He had on a thick black winter coat with a fur-lined hood, but when he spoke I could still hear the shiver in his voice.
“Sylvester White,” he said. “Call me Syl.”
He held out his hand.
I shook it. “Nate.”
“Listen, Nate. I want to apologize for being such a prick in there. I’ve had a bad run of luck and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I had no right to do that.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried about it, kid. I’m trying to make it right. I don’t like acting that way. It makes me look like an asshole.”
I didn’t argue.
Syl crossed his arms over his chest and said, “It’s fucking freezing out here.”
Being from Minnesota, I didn’t think it was too bad, but I kept that to myself. Instead, I motioned toward the storm and said, “Looks like it’s gonna get worse.”
Syl looked off to the north and I noticed something change in his eyes. It was like he was seeing the storm for the first time. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then he turned and pointed to a white Cadillac parked on the side of the building.
“Piece of shit died on me when I pulled in,” he said. “I was hoping to get to Omaha, but now it looks like I’m stuck out here until all this blows over.”
“Sorry to hear it.”
The gas clicked off and I replaced the nozzle on the pump and the cap on the tank then looked past Syl toward the diner.
Sara was still inside.
“Where’s your girl?”
“Bathroom,” I said. “Long drive.”
“Where you two heading?”
“Reno.”
Syl made a warm sound and smiled. “My second home. Chicago’s first, but if I had my way, I’d be in the desert.”
I didn’t say anything.
“You got family out there?”
“Cousin.” I thought about saying more, but I didn’t.
A moment later, the door to the diner opened and Sara came out into the snow. She closed her coat tight around her chest then started across the parking lot toward the car.
“There she is,” I said.
Syl looked then turned back to me. “Listen, kid. I know I didn’t make the best first impression, and normally I’d never ask, but with the storm coming and since you’re going that way, how about dropping me off in Omaha?”
I started to say no, but he stopped me.
“The airport would be great, but anywhere in the city is fine, a hotel or a bar. Someplace I can get a cab.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”
“I’d pay you, of course. Let’s say three hundred dollars?” Sara came around the passenger side and said, “What about three hundred dollars?”
Syl looked at her and smiled, big and welcoming. The change was dramatic and seamless, like it’d been rehearsed.
A warning light flashed in the back of my mind.
Syl held his hand out to Sara and introduced himself.
Sara shook it and smiled back.
“I was talking to Nate about a ride into Omaha.”
He told her about his car and about the storm then repeated his offer of three hundred dollars. He finished by taking a packed money clip from the front pocket of his pants and counting three one-hundred-dollar bills off the top. It didn’t make a dent in the size of the clip.
“What do you guys say?”
“I don’t think so,” I said.
Syl turned toward me. Behind him I saw Sara’s eyes get big. She looked at me and mouthed the words “three hundred dollars.”
I frowned.
“You have to do what you feel comfortable doing. I understa
nd that, but are you sure I can’t persuade you to help me out?”
“I’m afraid not,” I said.
“What if we make it five hundred?” He peeled two more bills off the top. “That’s a lot of money. Come on, kid, I’m desperate out here.”
Sara came around the car and grabbed my hand and squeezed, hard. Her eyes never left the money. “You’re not some crazy, psycho killer, are you, Syl? Tell the truth.”
Syl laughed, warm and gentle, and this time when the warning light flashed, it was blinding.
“I’m afraid those days are behind me, my dear.”
Sara looked up at me. “I don’t see the harm, do you?”
Syl held out the bills, and even though I knew the decision had been made, I stared at them for a while before taking them.
“Thanks, kids, I appreciate it.” He motioned toward the Cadillac and said, “Let me grab my suitcase and we’ll get moving before that storm catches us.”
Once he was gone, Sara turned and took the money from me. “Five hundred dollars.” She bounced as she spoke. “Oh man, can you believe this?”
I looked past her toward Syl. He was coughing and struggling to pull a black suitcase out of the Cadillac’s trunk. Eventually it came free and he started back, his face hidden in the shadows under his hood.
“I think our luck is changing.” Sara fanned the bills in front of her and smiled. “And we’re not even to Reno yet.”
She leaned into me and raised her face to mine. A single snowflake landed on her cheek and hung, delicate and white, before dissolving against her skin.
I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb.
“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” she asked.
The wind picked up. Sara didn’t seem to notice.
“Are you sure you want to give him a ride?” I asked. “We don’t know anything about this guy and I don’t trust him. He could be—”
Sara shushed me.
“Kiss me,” she said.
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I,” she said. “Kiss me, for good luck.”
I frowned. “That doesn’t work.”
“Of course it does,” she said. “It always works. Now kiss me.”
I stared at her for a moment longer, then bent and pressed my lips against hers.
It was a good kiss.
But it didn’t work.
4
Syl insisted on paying for the gas, and we didn’t try to stop him. While he was inside, Sara and I waited in the car and I listened to her talk about all the things we could do with the five hundred dollars. It was nice to see her happy, but the money wouldn’t last nearly as long as she thought it would. Before we knew it, we’d be right back where we started.
“You know what I’m going to do when I turn twenty-one?”
“Get drunk?”
The second the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them. I looked at Sara, but she didn’t seem to care, even though on some level I knew I’d struck a nerve.
I tried to apologize, but she cut me off.
“I’m going to get a job in one of the casinos dealing blackjack,” she said. “You hear those stories about big winners leaving their dealers thousand-dollar tips. Can you imagine?”
“That’d be nice,” I said. “But you still have a few years to go.”
“You do it then. You’d make a good dealer.”
“I can’t work in a casino.”
“Why not? You’re old enough.”
“Background checks.”
“They do those?”
I laughed. “With that kind of money flying around?”
“Oh.” Sara was quiet for a minute, then she shrugged and said, “I guess you’re right, but I’m still going to do it when the time comes.”
We kept talking about what we were going to do once we got to Reno, then we saw Syl come out of the diner and cross the parking lot toward the car.
I watched him come.
Sara noticed and said, “Will you stop worrying.”
I told her I’d try.
Once Syl got close, Sara got out and moved the passenger seat forward and started to climb into the back.
Syl stopped her.
“I’ll take the back,” he said. “This is your car.”
“For five hundred dollars, I think you can ride up front.”
Syl refused again, and this time Sara didn’t press. I didn’t blame her. Nearly everything we owned was packed into the backseat. It would’ve been a tight fit, even for her. Syl somehow made it work, but it wasn’t easy for him.
“You gonna be okay back there?” I asked.
“Like a baby in the womb,” Syl said. “Snug and warm.”
Sara got in and closed the door. She turned back toward Syl. “If you change your mind, just say something. I’ve got short legs.”
“I appreciate it, sweetheart, but I’ll be fine.”
Sara looked at me and shrugged.
“We ready?” I asked.
They both said we were, so I put the car in gear and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
At first, the roads didn’t seem that bad. The snow had settled in patches along the sides, but the center was clear and we made pretty good time. All around us, thin snakes of snow slid across the asphalt then dissolved under the car as we passed.
No one said much.
I heard Syl adjust something behind me and I looked back at him in the mirror. He shifted a couple bags around then coughed and said, “You two don’t travel light, do you?”
“Everything we got is back there,” Sara said.
“Everything?”
“Everything worth keeping.”
Syl was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Are you two running away from something or toward something?”
“What do you mean?”
Syl coughed again. “You packed everything you owned into your car then set off across the country. It seems to me you’re either running away from something or toward something. I’m asking which one.”
“Both, I guess,” Sara said. “We’re getting married.”
“Is that so?”
“Just as soon as we’re settled.” She looked at me and smiled. “Isn’t that right?”
I said it was.
“How do your parents feel about that?”
Sara laughed. “Mine aren’t too happy, but they’ll deal with it.” She motioned toward me. “Nate’s folks are dead.”
“Both of them?”
“They died when I was a kid,” I said. “I grew up in and out of foster homes with my little brother.”
“What does he think?”
I shook my head. “He’s gone, too.”
“He died a few years ago in a car accident,” Sara said. “Nate was driving.”
I looked at her and started to say something, but my throat felt thick and I couldn’t find the words. I rarely talked about what happened to my brother, and never with strangers. For her to throw it out in such a casual way stopped me cold.
I stared at her, but she was turned toward Syl and didn’t notice. When she did finally look at me, she smiled and touched my arm and said, “It was tough.”
“Sorry to hear it,” Syl said. “What was his name?”
I cleared my throat. “Vincent.”
“Is that how you got that scar? The accident?”
“No,” I said. “That was something different.”
“Looks like a big deal. Does it hurt?”
“Not all the time.”
I think Syl was waiting for me to go on, but I didn’t, and no one said anything else for a long time.
When the silence got to be too much, Sara said, “How about you, Syl. Are you married?”
“Never found the right woman. Thought I did once, but I was wrong.”
“Things didn’t work out?”
Syl smiled. “They sure didn’t.”
“That’s too bad.”
Syl coughed, hard, then winced.
> “You okay?” Sara asked.
He nodded. “It’ll pass.”
“We can try to find a doctor if you’d like.”
“No, thank you. I’d rather hear about your parents. What’d they say when you told them you were getting married?”
I laughed, couldn’t help it.
Sara slapped my arm, then looked back at Syl. “It was a lot to take in all at once,” she said. “I’m their firstborn, so it was hard for them to let go. And they’re kind of religious.”
“Kind of?” I said.
“Okay, very religious,” Sara said. “They’re both recovering alcoholics.”
“I can see where that might be a problem.”
“It’s fine, whatever they want to believe, I have my own opinions.”
“They didn’t rub off on you?”
Sara shook her head. “I was older when they started all that stuff, so it wasn’t like I grew up in church.” She paused. “I never really bought into it.”
“That must’ve upset them.”
“A lot of things I’ve done upset them.”
“Like getting married.”
Sara smiled. “That’s one.”
“I think they were more upset about becoming grandparents than about us getting married,” I said.
“You’re pregnant?”
Sara looked at me and frowned. “We weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”
“Don’t worry,” Syl said. “I can keep a secret.”
“It’s not the reason we’re getting married, you know.”
“That’s good.”
“I didn’t want to tell anyone about the baby because it’s bad luck to say anything this early.”
Syl made a dismissive sound. “There’s no such thing as bad luck. Things either go your way or they don’t.” He coughed then cleared his throat. “In the end, you get what’s coming to you. All that matters is how you deal with it.”
“Play the cards you’re dealt.”
“That’s right.”
“Sara believes in luck.”
“Some people do,” Syl said. “My experience tells me different.”
“What experience is that?” Sara asked. “What exactly do you do?”
“For a living?”
“Yeah,” she said. “How do you make enough money to pay five hundred dollars for a ride to Omaha?”
Syl shook his head and smiled. “Truth is, I don’t, but these are special circumstances.” He seemed to think for a minute, then said, “I guess you can say I settle disputes for a living.”