Rocky Road

by Melanie Doweiko

  She decides to let them sleep but, with all this new information, she doubts that she’ll be able to. She looks at Cici. “Why are you crashing here?” she asks.

  “Oh, you know. Because I’m a disappointment to my family.” Her tone is nonchalant, but her fists clench and her “easy” smile is tight. “Probably better off here than there, anyway,” she continues, forcing a laugh. “What about you?” She’s reaching for a distraction, a change of subject, and Shawna is happy to oblige. If she can’t sleep, she might as well talk.

  “We’re a band, actually. On our way to a gig.” It feels so good to say that, like they’re official. The perfect distraction.

  “You’re in a band?” Cici asks, smile widening and becoming more real. “Wow! That’s so cool!” She props her head on her fists and stares at Shawna with eyes wide and full of wonder and adoration.

  Shawna can’t remember a time when anyone had looked at her like that. Ever. She feels heat creeping into her cheeks and a giddy smile spreading on her face. “Yeah, we’re pretty awesome,” she says, going to lean against the desk like she’s cool. She forgets that she’s taken a step back from it and her elbow slices through thin air, but she catches herself before she can fall. She takes a step forward, her elbow not missing the desk this time, and tries to pretend that didn’t just happen.

  Cici giggles.

  Now that she’s closer and less tense, Shawna starts to notice the dark brown of her eyes. So dark, it’s almost black. Chapped lips crack to smile at Shawna and she smells like cheap public bathroom soap.

  “What kind of music do you play?” Cici asks.

  “Mostly rock ’n’ roll,” Shawna says, “with a little punk thrown in. You know. All that stuff.”

  “A punk rocker, huh?” Cici glances at her surroundings. “This might be a good experience for you, then.”

  Shawna laughs, but takes a glance around as well. Cracked glass and plaster, no electricity, no one else around. She remembers their song about running away, all the yearning in it, all the glory, the freedom. She feels none of that here.

  “When’s the gig?” Cici asks.

  “Tomorrow night. In Indianapolis.”

  “Hey, that’s not too far from here!”

  “Yeah. We’re trying to rest up a bit so we can put on our best performance.”

  “You should probably get back to your beauty sleep then,” Cici says.

  “Beauty sleep? I don’t need beauty sleep! I’m already drop-dead gorgeous! Our band is the Beauty School Dropouts after all!” Shawna says.

  Cici snorts. “Really? Like from Grease?”

  Shawna smiles. Not many people get the reference. “Yeah!”

  Cici starts to sing the song their band name is referencing, doing a little dance with it. Shawna giggles and joins her.

  At some point, they end up on the roof of the van, lying on their backs and staring at the stars. They’re just far enough from a major city for the stars to be more visible than what Shawna gets to see at home. Cici is resting her head on Shawna’s chest and pointing out constellations. The poor girl is touch-starved and hasn’t even seen another person in weeks. Shawna doesn’t mind. She enjoys cuddles, and Cici’s hair is fun to play with.

  “ . . . and there’s the Big and Little Dippers, but they’re also known as Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. The bears. There are a lot of legends about them. Ooo, and Leo! My favorite!”

  “You know a lot about stars,” Shawna says.

  “I spend a lot of time in the library,” Cici says. “Free information, warm place to stay for a while. It’s nice. Plus, I got a good place to watch them from.” She spreads her arms to indicate the sky above them.

  Shawna had never thought of libraries like that, always associating them with homework and the local knitting circle (of which Cass is a secret member). Then again, she’d always associated homelessness with drunks and stupidity, not clever, funny, young girls in need of a hug.

  Could this be Shawna? If she ran away—really ran away—is Cici who she’d become?

  Someone’s feet crunch on the gravel and the girls sit up to see a man with no shirt walking up to the van with a crowbar. He’s the skinniest person Shawna has ever seen, in a frightening way. His too-pale skin reflects the moonlight, which deepens the shadows cast by the outlines of his ribs. His arms are covered in dark splotches, shaking with the weight of the black bar in his hands. His eyes are wide and sunken, exaggerated by the bags under them. It looks more like a skeleton is walking towards them than a man.

  “Hey!” Cici shouts. The man freezes. She lets a stream of Spanish loose on him, and he drops the bar and sprints away.

  “Crackheads,” Cici says with disgust once he’s gone and lies back down.

  Shawna continues to stare in the direction he ran, unsure. The night had been turning out so nice, but that half-dead man had startled her out of whatever spell Cici had put her under. They’re squatting in an abandoned building. Their van could have been broken into. Their gear could have been stolen. They could have been attacked.

  She needs to wake her bandmates up and leave. Now. She’ll carry Cass into the van herself, if she has to.

  “Shawna? What’s wrong?” Cici asks, tugging at her arm.

  “I have to go,” Shawna says.

  Cici sits back up.

  “What? Why? I thought you guys had a few more hours until you had to leave,” she says.

  Shawna turns and looks at Cici. The fear and urgency in her eyes must be apparent, because Cici’s expression falls.

  “Oh. I see. Yeah. Dangerous place I live in and all that,” Cici says, starting to climb off the top of the van. “Don’t want to risk your safety.”

  “Cici, wait,” Shawna says, following her.

  “No, no. I get it. I know. I wouldn’t be here, either, if I had a choice.” It sounds more like a fact that she’s been forced to accept rather than something she truly understands. There’s an undertone of bitterness and hurt in her voice.

  “I don’t mean it like that.” Does she? She’s not sure. At this point, Shawna just wants to do something about the hurt in Cici’s voice.

  “No, you do,” Cici says, turning to her. She doesn’t sound angry or accusatory, just sad. She sighs.

  “I’m not asking you to stay,” she says. “I’m . . . I don’t know what I’m asking. I don’t know if I’m asking anything, at all. It’s just . . . it sucks, living like this. It really sucks.” She hugs herself and looks away.

  Shawna isn’t sure what to say to that, so she pulls Cici into a hug. It takes a moment, but Cici melts into the contact, hugging Shawna back.

  “I’m sorry,” Shawna says.

  “It’s not like it’s your fault,” Cici mumbles into her shoulder. “My parents kicked me out. I’m just too stubborn to apologize for whatever I did. Thought it might be better to be away from all the shouting and screaming and my dad . . . ” She shudders. “But it just sucks in different ways. I just . . . I can’t. I can’t go back now . . . ”

  Shawna’s heart aches for this girl. There has to be something she can do. “Maybe . . . you can come stay with me?” She’s not sure of the offer, but it’s all she’s got.

  Cici shakes her head. “I’ll only slow you guys down. Live-in groupies are bad for business.”

  “No. No, I mean when the gig is over. When I go home . . . ” Because, if the billion-and-two messages on her phone are any indication, she can still go home. She can always go home to a pair of loving parents who she knows will never, ever kick her out. She can go home right now, if she wanted.

  Cici can’t.

  “No,” Cici says, “I don’t want to get between you and your parents. Just . . . I’ll be fine. Really. I’ll be okay.”

  Shawna’s not so sure about that, but she doesn’t push it. She just holds the girl.

  Not long after, the bandmates are all in the car again and Shawna is asleep in the passenger’s seat.

  Cass stares at her, having woken up in confusion after
an hour of Rev driving. “So Shawna let us stay in what was probably some kinda crack house?” she says.

  “I mean, that’s kind of a crude way to put it, but I guess?” Rev says.

  “Insane. She’s insane. I’m going back to sleep.” She shifts in her seat and does so.

  THE MUSIC IS DOWN TO A SOFT WHISPER FROM the speakers as Shawna and Cass sleep. Rev is still driving or, at least, she should be.

  Rev is not in the driver’s seat. She’s on the side of the road, desperately looking between a map and the highway sign that had caused her to stop the car. Something isn’t right. Something is off. A letter here or there, a number with too many digits. This would be so much easier with Google Maps, but if she turns on her phone now—or any of their phones—she’s going to have a panic attack at the sheer amount of messages. She can’t drive with a panic attack, so here she is, in the dark with a paper map, trying to convince herself that she’s wrong. She has to be on the right road, she just has to.

  Part of her has already accepted that she’s not. They should have been at the Angry Whirlpool hours ago.

  A car with only one working headlight drives past, then slows and comes to a stop in front of the van. Rev freezes, not sure what to do or think, her tight grip crumpling the sides of the map.

  A woman steps out. A large woman. A mountainous woman. Rev has to crane her neck to look up at her as she walks closer. She finds herself rooted to the spot, unable to say or do anything other than stare.

  The woman glances over at the van, then gives Rev a once-over.

  “You lost or somethin’?” she asks, single eyebrow raised, hands on her hips, thick southern accent dripping from her words.

  Rev is unable to speak. What if she says that she’s lost? Would this woman do something? Lead her somewhere she doesn’t want to go? Would she help? Is Rev even lost? She isn’t sure. She’s clutching the map to her chest.

  “You gonna say somethin’, kid?” the woman asks after a few more moments of Rev’s silence.

  Rev takes a sharp breath, then looks down at the map, then at the road, then into the distance. Anywhere but at the woman. “Oh . . . w-well . . . I-I mean . . . I just . . . I mean . . . ”

  As Rev goes on, the woman’s brow furrows. She glances in the direction Rev is staring off into, then turns back to Rev. “Ya sound a bit nervous, there, girlie,” she says.

  “U-um . . . ” Rev says. Nervous doesn’t begin to describe what she’s feeling.

  The woman sighs. “I’m not gonna eat ya or anythin’,” she says, “I just wanna help. Honest. Ain’t safe for a young girl on the side of the road at night.”

  Rev is aware of this. Hyper-aware, in fact. She looks down at the now-crumpled map, then back up at the woman. No words come to her.

  “Just . . . nod if you think you’re lost,” the woman tries.

  “If you think you’re what?” Rev and the woman turn at the sound of Cass’s voice. She’s awake and staring at Rev.

  “Who’s this, then?” the woman asks, raising an eyebrow again. Rev wonders how she’s able to do that, mostly to avoid the rage pouring off of Cass, to refocus her mind on anything but the fear trying to fill it.

  “Nobody,” Cass snaps at the woman. “But you”—she points at Rev—“I am going to kill you!”

  “What’s going on?” Shawna asks, halfway through a yawn.

  “Oh, Shawna!” Cass says in the most obviously fake pleasant tone anyone has ever used. “So glad you’re awake! Sleep well?”

  Shawna blinks a few times, taking in her surroundings. “Why are we stopped? Did something happen to the engine?” she asks.

  Cass releases a loud, long, and very fake laugh. “See, the funny thing is, apparently, we’re lost!” She returns to glaring at Rev.

  “Lost?” Shawna takes a moment to process this. She turns to Rev then, concern written all over her face. “Rev?”

  Rev looks away from her bandmates, crumpling the map to her chest again. The woman puts a rough hand on her shoulder. She flinches. The woman removes her hand, and Rev takes the breath that had caught in her throat.

  “Now, don’t be too hard on your friend, here,” the woman says.

  “Give me a reason, lady,” Cass says. She looks ready to drag herself through the window and slam her fists into whatever part of Rev she can reach.

  Again, the woman raises an eyebrow. “Folks make mistakes,” she says. She turns to Rev. “Lemme see that map a’ yours, hon.”

  Rev hands it to her.

  The woman smooths it out and holds it so that both she and Rev can see. “Where y’all tryin’ to get to?” she asks.

  “Indianapolis,” Shawna says, getting out of the car to look at the map with them.

  The woman squints at the map, then looks up at the road. “Which way were you headin’?” she asks.

  Rev points out which was she was going.

  “Ooo, that is the wrong direction, girlie,” the woman says.

  “Wrong direction?” Cass says. “Where the hell are we right now?”

  The woman scans the map for a moment and points.

  “Looks like we’re somewhere around Minneapolis, Minnesota,” Shawna says.

  “Minne . . . ? We’re should be, like there right now!” Cass says.

  “I’m sure we can still make it . . . ” Shawna says, rubbing her eyes, not sounding sure at all. “We still have . . . ” She counts on her fingers. “Ten hours before we have to get there?”

  “’S about a nine-hour drive,” the woman says.

  Cass unleashes a noise somewhere between a growl and a scream. “I’M GONNA KILL YOU, REV!” she shouts.

  “I made a mistake!” Rev shouts back, raising the map to hide herself. She wishes she could just fight with Cass like she normally does. “I’m sorry!”

  “Not as sorry as you’re about to be!” Cass shouts.

  “Shut up!” Shawna shouts.

  Cass and Rev pause and turn to her, surprised.

  “Both of you just shut up for two seconds! God, I’m so sick of this! We’re doing this thing! We said we were doing this! We’re not gonna kill each other before we can! We’re gonna get back in the van, we’re gonna keep driving, and you’re both going to stop yelling at each other!” She stops to take a few shaky breaths. “Please,” she adds, voice breaking halfway through the word.

  “Okay, Shawna,” Rev says, concerned.

  “Yeah,” Cass says. She scrambles into the driver’s seat. Rev knows she’s not going to trust her to drive, and she’s not sure Shawna should, either. Rev gets into the back seat.

  Shawna sniffles and wipes away a tear that managed to escape.

  “Everythin’ alright between you three?” the woman asks.

  “Yes, we’re fine,” Shawna snaps, then pauses. “I’m sorry,” she says in a quieter tone. “Thank you for your help. You’ve been very kind to us.” She shakes the woman’s hand.

  “Y’all take care of yourselves, now,” the woman says, giving Shawna’s hand a small squeeze, “and each other. Be safe, okay?”

  Shawna nods, then climbs into the passenger’s seat and stares out the window, trying to hold back the rest of the tears.

  “I really am sorry,” Rev mutters from the back seat.

  “Just shut up, Rev,” Shawna says.

  Rev flinches and curls into herself. She counts her breaths. It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine . . .

  Isn’t it?

  She loses count and starts over again.

  “HEY, SHAWNA?” SAYS CASS AN HOUR INTO DRIVING

  “What is it, Cass?” Shawna is exhausted, emotionally and physically. She couldn’t get any sleep after the incident on the side of the road and spent most of the time trying to convince herself that she wasn’t about to cry. Nine hours until the gig . . .

  “I think we need to talk about Rev.”

  Shawna groans a little. “I honestly don’t want to hear it. Really, whatever annoyance or problem or grudge you have, I just don’t want to
hear it.”

  “It’s important.”

  Shawna scoffs.

  “No, I mean it. Don’t you think it’s a little weird that, twice now, she’s held us up?”

  Shawna glances into the back seat, making sure that Rev is still asleep. She turns back to Cass. “What do you mean?” she asks.

  “I mean there’s no way she just ‘forgot’ her guitar. And getting us lost? She was driving the wrong way. Backwards, Shawna. Seven and a half hours backwards.”

  “Are you . . . are you trying to say that she’s sabotaging us?”

  “Finally seeing the pattern, are we?”

  “No way. Rev wouldn’t do that. She’s our friend, Cass.”

  “She’s your friend,” Cass says. “Ever noticed how we don’t get along? Like, at all?”

  “No. I never noticed that,” Shawna says in a flat, sarcastic tone. “Friends fight. There are plenty of times when I’ve seen you two get along fine.”

  “What about the charity gig, huh? Remember what she said about that? She said that we shouldn’t do it.”

  “I mean, we weren’t getting paid,” Shawna says. “She was probably just worried about us being taken advantage of. Or maybe she was just nervous.”

  “Listen to yourself! You’re just trying to defend her and not looking at facts. She doesn’t want to be a part of this. She never did. The only reason that she’s here is because you forced her into it.”

  “No. No, that’s not true.”

  “It is and you know it. It’s what you do, Shawna.”

  Shawna thinks about that, thinks back to middle school, when she first had the idea for the band. She thinks about the moment she asked Rev to start a band with her. She caught Rev singing something and asked her what it was. She had to push and cajole before Rev even admitted that she had written it herself, and it took months of begging and needling and convincing until Rev agreed to start the band on the condition that she didn’t have to sing. How much of that was Shawna forcing herself and her own ideas onto Rev?

  Maybe talking about how she couldn’t play an instrument was Rev’s way of trying to back out without hurting Shawna’s feelings, but Shawna got her an electric guitar and a “How to Play” book and insisted that she learn. She didn’t even consider Rev’s feelings, and when she did, maybe she was reading them wrong. Maybe it wasn’t sentiment that made Rev push against Cass joining, but another escape attempt.