The Middle Road

by K. G. Reuss

  “Surprised the fuckers haven’t choked me to death,” I mutter, chasing the chalkiness with my coffee.

  I rise to my feet, thinking I’ll get a breath of fresh air and try to clear the sounds of Derek’s death rattle from my head when there’s a knock at the door.

  I pull open the door to find Luke staring up at me, his dog wagging her tail beside him, his woman tucked beneath his arm where all women fit snuggly.

  “Hey,” I greet him, my grin spreading from ear to ear. “I was hoping it was you and not the damn police coming to see if we were slaughtering wild animals in here.”

  Derek gives a loud snoring splutter in answer.

  Luke raises an eyebrow at me as I beckon him and his dog inside.

  “He sounds like my grandpop’s old ’87 Mercury Grand Marquis used to after the muffler fell off. He’d gun it at takeoff just to piss Grams off.” Luke chuckles at the memory as he surveys our palace. I smirk back. It seems like an accurate description of what Derek sounds like.

  I couldn’t fault Derek for sleeping so soundly knowing how long I slept yesterday. Must be the clean air and the open road. I just wish he’d do it more quietly.

  “So, you’re coming with?”

  “I figured it was now or never. Figured Molly here ain’t never been away on an adventure either. You came at the perfect time.”

  Molly licks my hand and wags her tail as if she’s thanking me too. I’m sold on her. I think we will be good friends.

  “I’m glad you’re here. Truly,” I say, patting Molly on the head.

  I peek out the window and gauge the day. It’s just after 8:00 AM, and it looks like the grocery store is bustling. I need donuts to help wash down the meds.

  Yeah, big round chocolate ones with lots of icing. Maybe even some of those fancy ones with crumbled cookies in the icing. My mouth waters.

  Seems like a great way to start the day.

  “You like donuts, Luke?”

  “I love donuts. Especially the ones with that creme center.” Luke licks his lips as he rubs his stomach. Molly gives a whine. Apparently, she likes them too. That settles it. We definitely need some donuts.

  “I’m going to run over to the store and grab some if you want to come with.”

  Luke frowns down at Molly. “Is it OK if I leave Molly here?”

  “That depends.” I glance at Molly. "She going to steal the RV?”

  Luke laughs. “Nah, but she might crawl into bed with the phantom snorer back there.” He jerks his thumb in the direction of Derek’s tremulous snores.

  “Then I’m sad we’re going to miss it.” A smirk tugs at my lips as I think about how Derek will react to a bunk mate. Without another word, we depart, but not before I place a good scratch on Molly’s fluffy head.

  We walk quietly across the parking lot for a few moments before Luke clears his throat. “Mind if I ask what’s going on with you?”

  I lift my eyebrows in question as I glance at him.

  “I saw all the pill bottles on the table,” he explains, not bothering to look ashamed that he had a glance.

  I can’t blame him. He’s loading his life into an RV and leaving everything he’s ever known behind. In his shoes, I’d want to know who the hell I was traveling with.

  “Plus, you strike me as someone who’s going through some shit.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I give him a half-assed smirk.

  He nods thoughtfully. Luke is a good guy. And since there isn’t a reason in the world to keep him in the dark, I speak, “I have cancer.” It hurts to say it. Like the fucking words choke me as they pour out of my mouth. I stop walking and plant my hands on my knees, drawing in a deep, shaking breath. I’d never said those words aloud before.

  I have cancer. I’m dying. Fucking dying! Thirty-two years old and on my way out.

  Luke stops with me and instead of looking like he’s embarrassed at my quiet meltdown, he tugs me in for a hug. It’s awkward, for sure, but I find comfort in having someone give a damn enough to do it. I haven’t been hugged—really hugged—since I was a kid. My mom gave the best hugs. I miss those ‘squeeze-the-stuffing-out-of-you hugs’. Fuck. I should call her.

  “I ain’t gonna tell you that it’s going to be all right in the end, because chances are it ain’t,” Luke says as we pull away from one another. “I will tell you this though, for now, it is going to be all right. We’re going to have an adventure, my new friend. We’re going to drink beer and eat fucking donuts, and bitch about how women play with our hearts. Then we’ll all go to sleep. Maybe we’ll do it for quite a few nights. Maybe not. But we’re going to go to sleep every night knowing we conquered the world that day. You with me?”

  “I’m fucking with you,” I say, giving him a watery smile.

  He grins and tips his head in the direction of the store. “We best get our donuts. The old biddies get out and about and they take all the good ones.”

  “Plus, we look like a couple of fucking lunatics out here hugging it out in the parking.” I chuckle as we start walking again.

  “Ain’t the worst thing I’ve ever done in a parking lot,” he laughs loudly, the sound deep and rich.

  “Fuck, me either, brother.”

  He gives me a fist bump as we enter the store.

  He seems to know his way around the place and leads us straight to the donuts. I grab a box, and he proceeds to fill it with a dozen different kinds, all mouth-watering.

  “You know, I don’t think dogs can have donuts,” I muse as we walk through the produce section with our donut haul. “I think I read that somewhere.”

  “Ain’t too much out there Molly won’t eat.”

  “Well, just to be safe, let’s get her some treats and regular dog food.”

  Luke shrugs and leads me to the pet aisle where I gather an armload of dog toys, a bed, food and treats.

  He lets out a low whistle. “Damn dog ain’t gonna wanna leave you.”

  “Not many bitches do.” I give him a wink.

  Luke snorts at my joke and follows me to the register. I quickly pay for everything, even though he attempts to help. Once we’re back at the RV, we find Derek is awake and sitting at the table with Molly beside him. He’s petting her, and she looks like the happiest dog in the world.

  “There you are.” Derek glances up at me as Molly licks his hand.

  “Had to get some donuts,” I say, placing the package on the table. Luke and I sit down and each choose a donut. I go with the Boston cream and let out a contented sigh as I chew on it. It’s one of the best damn donuts I’ve ever had.

  Luke and Derek look equally satisfied with their donuts as Molly cocks her head at us, clearly annoyed she isn’t enjoying her own donut.

  “Hand me that bag,” I instruct Derek. He grabs the bag on the couch and comes back. I rifle around inside and pull out a big ass dog bone and hand it to Molly. We all laugh as she takes it and rushes back to Derek’s bunk.

  “Derek, I didn’t introduce you yet, but this is Luke Boyd and that beauty in your bed getting slobber on your pillowcase is Molly. They’re going with us to Nashville.”

  “We’re going to Nashville?” He bites into his donut and stares at me, waiting for me to answer.

  “Yeah, you know, I feel like it’s where we need to be heading. Luke here was just the push I needed.”

  “Well, yeehaw, let’s do this.” Derek gets to his feet and wipes his hands.

  I grin at my two friends.

  “Yeehaw! Let’s go.”

  Six

  Carter

  As we cruise along the highway, I look out the massive front window at the mountains, my eyes watering. Then it hits me. This is why people get teary-eyed when they sing “America the Beautiful”. No wonder Luke’s girlfriend plays such beautiful music here; it’s a reflection of her surroundings. We’ve got to be close to Heaven at this elevation.

  I’ve never really thought about God. I mean, yeah sure, I know who He is at least. I actually get mistaken for him in the thro
es of passion all the time, but that’s not an appropriate thought at the moment. So anyway, God wasn’t mentioned much in my home growing up—unless my parents were arguing or my dad was complaining about a bad deal, but when Luke called this state “West ‘by-God’ Virginia” He’s kind of been on my mind.

  God, I mean, not Luke, although he’s been on my mind too. I’ve been thinking about Heaven and God, and angels. A lot.

  Derek keeps looking at me sideways every so often like he’s dying to say something about me wiping my eyes, but he doesn’t. Smart man. He leaves me alone as we cross the border from this inspiring state and ride along the Virginia and Kentucky border.

  I glance back over my shoulder. Luke’s legs are stretched out on the bench of the kitchenette table while he reads. Molly rests at his feet like the loyal lady she is.

  “Whatcha reading?” I holler back at him, but my voice echoes through the cab and bounces off the massive windows sending a shooting pain right through the back of my eyes like a sonic boom. “Damnation! Motherfucker.” I grab my head and lean forward as far as the seatbelt will allow, massaging my temples and trying not to choke on the damn belt.

  “Are you all right, Carter?” Derek doesn’t know what to do. He’s got one hand on the wheel and the other reaches for me. I motion for him to keep going, but he ignores me. “Maybe I should stop for a bit.” The bus slows down as we near an exit at the Cumberland Gap Mountain Pass.

  “Don’t stop. Just drive,” I hiss, the searing pain making me want to wretch.

  “I’m pulling over—”

  “I told you to just fucking drive, Derek!”

  “Shut your ass,” Derek snaps back with a growl, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “I’m the goddamn driver, not you, so I decide if we pull over.”

  “And I’m the goddamn driver’s boss, so I say keep driving,” I snarl, clutching my head.

  “You’re going to be roadkill in a minute if you don’t shut the hell up.” Derek eases the RV off the road and puts it in park. He disappears into the back only to return a moment later with some pain medication and a bottle of water.

  “Thanks,” I mumble, taking them from him. I swallow down the pills and catch a smirk on Derek’s face as he watches me from the driver’s seat.

  “Just drive.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.” He shakes his head and puts the RV back into drive and pulls onto the highway.

  “Everything OK?” Luke asks, popping his head between the seats.

  “He’s fine. Just having a meltdown.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

  Luke glances between us before moving back to his seat, shaking his head. I’m sure seeing two New Yorkers verbally battling one another had to be enjoyable to watch. He’s probably wondering what the hell he got himself into climbing into the RV.

  Later, we end up pulling over in a rest area so Luke can take Molly out for a doggy pit-stop. He straps on the new leash I bought her and exits the bus to give us some privacy or some quiet time for his own sanity. He’s got to be questioning his decision-making process after that scene earlier.

  Derek hovers over me waiting for some direction from me, any direction. His eyes are wide with fright when I look up.

  “Don’t worry, man. This isn’t the end. Just bring me my pills.”

  He scurries off to the table and brings me the whole bottle, twisting the adult-proof cap off for me in my aggravated state.

  “Go lie down. You don’t need to keep me company up front,” he commands.

  “I’m good, damn it. I don’t want to miss this adventure, not one fucking second of it. I’m a grown-ass man, not a preschooler who needs a fucking nap,” I snap at him.

  He takes a step back from me, not used to feeling the brunt force of my asshole ways.

  “Well, you sure are grouchy like a kid who needs a nap or a man that needs to get laid.”

  He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and pulls his baseball cap down lower on his head before walking to the door.

  “All right then. Go for a walk and get some fresh air. Or better yet, go find some pussy. Just don’t fucking scare me like that again,” he calls over his shoulder as he throws the door open and kicks it when it bounces back on him. He mutters and curses while he walks away, making me feel bad.

  I meet up with Luke, and we play chase with Molly for an hour. Some little kids join in and by the time we make it back to the bus, my headache is gone, and my mood is much better. See, I knew bringing her along would be a good addition to the trip. She’s turning out to be one of those therapy dogs without any training.

  Derek is still really pissed at me, and even though I give him one of my best apologies ever—hell probably my only apology, or at least in a long, long time—he continues to be moody.

  I’m a little rusty. He needs to give a dying man a break. But it’s OK because that lightning bolt of pain scared the shit out of me too. I can’t be mad at him for yelling. I decide to give him space and time, so I go into my room to make some calls.

  A few hours later, I come out with my notebook tucked under my arm. My notes are scribbled messily in it since I’m used to having a secretary do that for me, but the pages are full of a mighty fuckin’ good plan of action for Mr. Luke.

  I take a seat next to Luke, who’s reading again. “Whatcha reading? You never told me before.”

  “It’s called How Music Works by David Byrne.”

  “Oh, yeah. And how does it work?” I lean sideways to take a peek at the cover. It’s solid black and tells me nothing about what’s inside.

  “It’s a novel about one man’s musical journey from personal enjoyment before records to the age of the internet.”

  “Really? Is it any good?”

  “It’s pretty deep, but I understand exactly what he’s sayin’.” He places his bookmark between the pages and closes it. “Basically, it’s that music is an individual, soul-searching journey.”

  Yeah, and so is your health.

  I set my notepad down on the table, and his eyes widen in either fear or amazement at the jotted chicken-scratch, arrows, and circles with names and numbers written all over the margins.

  “What is all of that?” His fingers complete an air circle over the page.

  “That, my friend, is a plan and some gigs for you once we get to Nashville.” I tap the notebook several times with my index finger for emphasis.

  “And what is this?” He points to a heavily traced doodle in the corner.

  “Oh, that’s me doodling a bunch of grapes while waiting impatiently to some really bad hold music. Ignore that shit.” I click my pen and color it all in as one massive ink blot while he laughs and points to where I missed a grape. “Now listen, I got you a guaranteed five-minute spot at the Douglas Corner Café on Tuesday. That’s open-mic night, and if we can make it over to another hotel down the street before 10:00 pm, we may be able to get you another spot.”

  “Holy shit, Carter. Two in one night? I don’t know what to say.” He sits back in his seat.

  “Well I do. Tell me you can write music too.”

  “I’ve dabbled in it. I may have a few songs in my soul.”

  “I’m gonna puke, Carter,” Luke says, holding his steel girlfriend tight to his chest as we stand by the side of the stage in a hotspot called the Basement.

  “You’re not going to puke. That’s just your nerves.” I turn to face him and grab his shoulders tight, shaking him slightly. “Listen to me. Do you want this dream to come true?”

  “Yes,” he says calmly, but nods his head excitedly.

  “Can we get your emotions all on the same page here? I’m not feeling your excitement.”

  “That’s because I feel sick most of all.”

  “C’mon, Luke. Do you want this more than anything in your whole existence?”

  “Hell yes!” he shouts in my face, but not loud enough to drown out the jukebox.

  “You’ve got ten minutes before the next
set starts to shake these nerves and talk yourself into showing all these people here that living without Luke Boyd music in their life is akin to dying. Trust me, I know. Now I’m going to go find a seat and enjoy the show. Do whatever you need to do to rev yourself up because pep talks are not in my skill set.”

  Luke nods his head and walks to the far corner of the stage, turning his back to me and the crowd. I know he’s scared shitless. Fuck, I’m feeling a little nervous for him, and all I’m doing is watching. He’s got to do this for himself; I can’t perform for him. I can only provide the opportunity.

  It isn’t too crowded tonight with the heavy downpour of rain outside, but there still aren’t any open booths, so I head to the bar.

  I slide onto the last stool next to a row of booths, hoping I’ll get lucky enough to snag one if I loiter nearby. Right behind me, a man jabbers on about “priceless contracts, no better deals, and sky-rocketing royalties” like he’s trying to convince someone to sell their soul to the devil. Jesus Christ, what a liar. I can smell the bullshit coming from his lips before he even opens them.

  “Excuse us for a second,” his oily voice says, and the booth goes silent.

  “You’re hurting me. Don’t squeeze me that hard, Richie,” comes from a woman’s voice, her pain audible through gritted teeth.

  I set my beer down to say something to Richie, the piece of trash, when she stumbles out of the booth and catches the end of the table with her hands to keep herself from falling on the dirty floor.

  She stands straight and tall, adjusting her silver dress which had ridden while she sat, pushing it back down her long legs. It clings to her slim body as she brushes it off. She fakes an inspection of her shoes like they caused her to trip. “Go get us two more beers, Teddy. Long necks,” he says, dismissing her. As she turns toward the bar, I catch her rolling her eyes.

  Large, round green eyes flash at mine for one second before she slides in between my stool and the next one. She holds up two fingers like she’s hailing a taxi, “Mike, I need two beers,” she hollers at the bartender on the other side. “For dumb and dumber” she mutters under her breath. I snort out loud at her comment.