by Raen Smith
“Thank you for that,” I say. “In all seriousness though, I wouldn’t recommend hopping on that thing. No one really uses it anymore like they used to. Not like in the movies or like the seventies, according to Viv anyway. It’s all degrading, foul-mouthed prison talk. It’s all stuff that you definitely don’t want to hear. Stuff that will make your ears bleed. Seriously.”
“Have you failed to tell me something, Mr. Rowland? Have you spent some time behind bars in the last five years since you’re so familiar with prison talk?” she asks, holding her thumb over the button like a threat. “I’ll do it. You know I will.”
“Suit yourself. Just don’t come crying to me when those guys -”
But she doesn’t let me finish. Her thumb is already pressed on the button and her mouth is poised over the device. “Hey, Truck Nation. P. Sullivan reporting from –” She releases the button.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“Chattanooga.”
“Chat, Chat, Chattanooga,” she says with the button pressed. “We’re in sunny Chattanooga where the temperature is climbing to a mild yet refreshing sixty degrees.”
She lifts the button and eyes me with a smile.
“Hey, Chattanooga Cub. You sound sexy. Tell me girl, whatchya wearing?” A gruff voice crackles over the radio. “Tell me how big those tits are.”
Piper’s mouth drops open, and she shoots me a look of disgust before bursting into laughter. She holds up the device again. “How big you want ’em to be, you dirty dog?”
She waits and looks at me again. I shake my head and say, “You’re getting in over your head, girl. You have no idea.”
“Hey, Chattanooga Kitten, don’t listen to that dick. He’s got the clap. What’s your pretty little kitten look like?” Another voice cuts in with a thick Southern accent. “I’m in Tennessee myself.”
“Oh, my God,” Piper says to me. She covers the receiver with her hand and the men’s voices turn into a muffled sound of whistles, panting and words so dirty that I need the Urban Dictionary website to look them up. I give her a shoulder shrug before I start laughing.
“I told you,” I say. “You don’t want to mess with those guys.”
Just as Piper is about to turn off the CB, a lighter voice cuts in amid the crude men.
“Hey,” the voice calls. It’s unmistakably a woman’s voice. The rest of the voices crackle and disappear. Her voice is cool and clear. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” Piper answers.
“Are you driving by yourself?”
“No, I’m just riding. A –” Piper pauses, “Friend who wants to be my boyfriend is driving.”
“A friend, really? You kiss all your friends?” I accuse her light-heartedly. “You must have a line of guys that want to be your friend.”
“So, he’s not your boyfriend?” the woman asks.
“Not my boyfriend,” Piper confirms.
“Yet,” I whisper.
She shoots a raised eyebrow at me before turning back to the CB. “What’s your name?”
“Jennifer. Yours?”
“Piper. My friend’s name is Cash.”
“Cash and Piper. It sounds good together.”
“Jennifer?” I whisper.
“I suppose it does,” Piper says, ignoring me. “So, I need another girl’s opinion, Jennifer. I’ll tell you a short version of our story, and you can tell me what you think about it all. So, Cash and I met five years ago. We shared a kiss and then went our separate ways. Yesterday, he showed up at my door and asked me to go for a ride with him. Five days, fifty square feet…”
“One last shot at love,” Jennifer finishes.
“Yeah.” Piper gives me an incredulous look. “So, what do you think? Should I fall for this guy or what?”
“What does he look like?”
“He’s hot. Dark hair and blue eyes. Enough muscle but not too much, around six feet tall. He’s got a killer smile, and he’s smart. And, most importantly, I just learned that he has some serious dance moves.”
“But he’s a truck driver?” Jennifer asks. “Why does he drive a truck?”
Piper looks at me, silently questioning.
“Because I love the open road and the smell of diesel,” I answer.
“That’s it?” Piper looks disappointed. “I thought there’d be more.”
“Because I didn’t want to be trapped in a concrete jungle for the rest of my life. I wanted to see what the world has to offer, and I thought maybe I would find you, as crazy as it sounds,” I admit.
“That’s so sweet,” Piper says with a cock of her head. “Except I was only two hours away.”
“Don’t remind me,” I reply as a few sprinkles of rain land on the windshield.
“He likes the open road,” Piper says into the radio. “And his lame ass decided not to go to medical school. The guy’s brilliant and could cruise through school in a heartbeat. He could save lives, but instead, he’s punching cowboys and getting shot at.”
“Hmm,” Jennifer says. “Sounds like a classic case of underachievement.”
“You’re telling me,” Piper replies.
“Or brilliance,” Jennifer offers. “Maybe he’s got this whole thing figured out. He’s living the easy life on the road without the stress and anxiety of keeping up with the Joneses. It doesn’t sound so bad after all.”
“I like Jennifer,” I say. The drops are thicker now and splashing with force against the glass. I switch on the windshield wipers at the lowest level.
“What about his responsibility to society? He’s brilliant, and he should share his knowledge and talents with the world,” Piper says. “He has a duty to become something bigger than this, no offense or anything.”
“None taken. I’m not a truck driver,” Jennifer says.
“You’re not?” Piper asks.
“No, I’m an electrical engineer,” she says. “I’m at work right now, in a cube actually. I get bored every once in a while and turn on the CB for entertainment. I was just about to turn it off when you came on the line. You sounded interesting so I thought I’d stay.”
“Thanks, I guess,” Piper says. “Don’t you think that turning on a CB for entertainment is kind of weird? I mean, there are so many other things that you could be doing at work. You could be buying shoes online, checking Facebook, or Googling useful information like how many Blow Pops are in a bag. The information highway is literally at your fingertips.”
“I tune into the real deal. The actual highway with actual people,” Jennifer laughs before she adds. “Some of the dirtiest stuff you’re ever going to hear is on this thing. It’s so disgusting and ridiculous that it’s funny. It pulls me away from diagrams and CAD drawings that bore me to tears.”
“Sounds like a sad job, Jennifer. Where are you from?”
“Wisconsin, just like you.”
Piper looks at me with shock, “How did –”
“The accent. It’s easy to pick out.”
“Oh,” Piper laughs. “Yeah. It’s that bad, huh?”
“Don’t you know,” she emphasizes know, adding a soft ‘a’ sound at the end to make it sound like Noah.
Yeah, we’re from Wisconsin alright. There’s no denying it.
“I have a friend named Jennifer who lives in Madison. What are the odds?” Piper asks.
“Well, considering there are probably about a million Jennifers in the United States alone, pretty good I suppose. How did Cash find you, Piper? How did he know where you lived?”
“I ran into his friend a few days ago. I was with the other Jennifer, who prefers to be called Jen by the way, and bam, Cash shows up at my door three days later. I guess I have Jen to thank or scold, I’m not sure which one yet, for giving my address to him.”
Jennifer’s silent on the other end.
My eyes are fixed on the road ahead of me, watching as the rain sputters against the road in a hazy chaos, when a sudden moment of realization washes over me. Jennifer. I think about the truck stop in
Illinois and then the truck stop in Kentucky and then the Wildhorse Saloon. The color was striking, like nothing I’ve seen before, except, I’ve seen it three times now in the last two days. This would mark the fourth, if she responds how I think she will. The euphoria is intriguing and unsettling at the same time, and I have no idea what it means. I pull the transmitter from Piper’s hands.
“What color are your eyes, Jennifer?”
“Well, Cash. It’s nice to meet you. Don’t you think you should avoid hitting on me when your girl is sitting right next to you?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say. “Just tell me, Jennifer, what color are your eyes? I’m curious.”
I lift my thumb and hold my breath, unsure if I want her to answer how I expect her to.
“They’re a clear blue, like Cal Ripken’s eyes. Clear as glass someone once told me.”
A shudder curls through my body as I hand the device over to Piper. I move the wipers to the next level, watching as they slide away the water with quick swoops. Down, up. Down, up. The water comes, the wipers remove. It makes sense. The laws of science dictate how the rain reacts to the motion. This is how the world works. But the eyes…
“What was that all about?” Piper asks me.
“Nothing,” I say, gripping the wheel and leaning forward to look through the rain. My right hand throbs from punching the Cowboy as I squeeze tighter. The pattering sound of rain echoes in the cab and fills the space in between us.
“It’s not nothing. Rule number one: no lies,” Piper says before she moves the transmitter back to her mouth, but before she can say anything, Jennifer comes back on.
“What matters most in life to you, Piper?” she asks.
Piper pauses, looking at me before pushing the button. “That I’m happy. And that I live a life full of courage and take on every day like it’s my last because you never know when your number’s up.”
“Does Cash make you happy?” Jennifer asks.
Piper doesn’t pause this time. “Yes.”
“Then whatever he chooses to do for a living has no bearing on your happiness. And from the sound of it, you might have a boyfriend,” Jennifer says. “Or even better, the one.”
My eyes meet hers in a moment that takes my breath away. Piper doesn’t take her eyes off me while she lifts the transmitter back to her mouth and says, “It’s complicated.”
“Nothing’s too complicated when it comes to love,” Jennifer replies.
Piper inhales and brings the transmitter to her mouth but doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing she can say to argue the fact. She pauses for another second before pushing the button, “Thanks, Jennifer.”
“Anytime.”
Piper puts the device back and turns off the CB.
“What’s complicated, Piper? What’s stopping you from being with me? Why didn’t you leave any contact information when you left Appleton? Why didn’t you come and see me when you came back? If it’s your dad worrying about you being with someone like me because I’m not good enough, I’ll go to medical school. I’ll become a doctor. I’ll be a neurosurgeon if I have to –” I rattle off, the frustration edging in my voice. I’ll do anything to be with her.
“Why did you ask what color her eyes were?” she interrupts.
“What?” I stumble as my head still spins from her words that being with me is complicated. I turn the wipers on the highest level, the rain coming down in torrents. The rhythm of the rain is louder now, and we have to talk louder to hear each other.
“Why was her eye color important? Why does it matter?” she asks.
“Because -” My voice trails off because I’m unsure how to explain this to Piper. I’m not sure if I can even wrap my own head around it. This type of thing is Big Dave’s territory, but for me, it just doesn’t make sense.
“Because?” Piper says. She’s leaning over the seat now. I can feel the penetration of her stare, and I know she’s not going to relent. I take a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I repeat and then start in.
“What are your thoughts on the universe?” I ask. I’ll start slow, I decide. Ease into this conversation to see if it sounds as crazy as I think it does.
“What do you mean, the universe? That’s a pretty loaded question. Like what do I think about existence? The planets? Saturn? The moon?”
“The universe as an entity. As a whole, you know,” I say, “Like how we exist in the universe and how she reacts with us.”
“Oh, like that universe. She.”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Well, I’m definitely not the existentialist kind of girl. I think while it appears that we have choices, we don’t have a say how the universe chews us up and spits us out. I think we all go back to the same path that the universe has already predetermined at some point. We may have traveled an extra couple miles here and there, but ultimately, we end up back where we belong.”
“So, you believe in fate?”
“Yeah, I guess I do.”
“Even though science plays a huge role in determining people’s future? Like surgeons who eradicate brain tumors? If someone survives, you think that was the original plan for that person?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Do you believe in a spiritual path?”
“I don’t know what that is,” she says, “But how does all this universe stuff relate to Jennifer’s eye color?”
“I’m getting there. The spiritual path, according to Big Dave, is a journey that someone takes to get an understanding about the universe. There’s a union between the person and the universe. The path is full of experiences and signs that teach the individual about life and what his or her role is in it,” I say. I’m on the verge of shouting, the rain slamming against the cab. I ease up on the gas, carefully watching out for the red flashes of taillights ahead of me.
“You could have just asked if I believe in signs. The answer is yes. Absolutely, a hundred percent yes.”
“Okay, so you believe in the spiritual path,” I repeat, rubbing my hands against the steering wheel. “You believe in fate and destiny and all that bullshit.”
“Yes, I believe in all that bullshit. And I believe what goes around, comes around. I believe things happen for a reason. That’s why I never left you my contact information. I thought if it was meant to be, we would find each other again. I left it up to the hands of fate.”
“A phone number would have been a hell of a lot easier.”
“But it wasn’t meant to be at that time,” she says. “But what does this have to do with some stranger’s eye color?”
“It was a sign,” I say, knowing that as much as I don’t want to admit it, the four people we’ve encountered over the last twenty-four hours have to be what Big Dave considers huge, flashing signs with the big red arrow. Just like Hudson running into Piper. This way, idiot. Do not pass go, do not collect a hundred dollars. Just follow the sign!
“A sign of what? So she had clear eyes. I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy. I don’t usually believe in this stuff. Actually, I try to stay far away from it as I can but being raised by a spiritual guru can muddy your sensibility. He’s been trying to fill my head with all his spiritual pathway and enlightenment stuff ever since I can remember. I’ve mostly pushed it away. I believe in science and the proven laws of nature and all that. I like to surround myself in a logical world. It makes the most sense.”
“I agree to some extent,” she replies. “Is this the point in the ride when you tell me that you’re going to make me drink the purple Kool-Aid and then cut my body into a million little pieces and scatter me across the highway?”
“God, Piper.” I run my hand through my hair. All of this is crazy.
“Okay, okay. I’m totally kidding. I get where you’re coming from. Let’s go back to the eyes. So Jennifer’s eyes are clear blue. What does that mean?”
“Do you remember the guy we saw at the very first truck stop? The g
uy in the orange jumpsuit who looked like Principal Watkins?”
A crack of lightning illuminates the dark sky.
“Yeah, the Lorax?”
“He had eyes as clear as glass. He winked at me and told me I picked the right girl.”
“Okay, coincidence so far,” Piper says. “It seems a little strange but still a coincidence.”
“Then there’s L. Her eyes were the same color. Two motherless kids end up saving a childless mother. What are the odds? Then Damion at the bar. Same color eyes and used the same phrase Hudson always uses. Then Jennifer on the CB.”
“Same color eyes,” Piper whispers.
“I know, right?” I glance at Piper wrapped up in the seat. She’s holding her legs, rocking them back and forth gently.
“It’s like Ebenezer Scrooge except we’re not dead or at least we better not be,” she says. “Quick, squeeze my arm. Am I alive?”
I take a long look at the road ahead before I reach over and grab her arm gently. “Can you feel that?”
It feels like more than just squeezing some girl’s arm. It feels warm and electrifying, like it does every time I touch her.
“Yeah, can you? What does it feel like?” she asks.
“It feels like an infinite amount of possibilities. It feels warm and right and exhilarating. It feels like you,” I answer softly.
She sighs and puts her hand over mine, and I breathe in deep, trying to stay focused enough to maneuver the truck on the road. I pull back my hand as much as I don’t want to and put it back on the wheel.
“You’re right, and as much as I hate it, I love it at the same time,” she says.
“You’re confusing as hell. How can you hate this?”
“It’s just that…” Her voice trails off, and I know that she has no intention of finishing her thought. She has no intention of breaking down this crumbling wall that she is desperate to keep rebuilding. It’s exhausting trying to kick down this wall, but I keep at it because I know what’s on the other side.