I don’t have any blog ideas for Forth and Back at the moment: only Cup of Angst. So, here’s some fiction:
The morning was holding its breath.
Audrey leaned over the balcony just outside her discount hotel room and puffed a clouded breath of air into the misty Illinois morning. She couldn’t quite remember the name of the town, but she knew where the Greyhound station was, which was all she really needed.
The early breeze blew a few strands of wet hair across Audrey’s cheek and she realized they were beginning to turn crisp with the frosty air—she had just emerged from the shower after all. Even after showering, Audrey didn’t feel clean. This hotel room was by far the sleaziest dwelling she’d ever encountered, on the road or otherwise. The toilet was cracked, the tile in the shower stall was yellowed and peeling, the linoleum floor was stained with rusty-brown water spots, and that was just the bathroom.
Spots of flaky-white crust topped the tacky queen-sized bedspread, the two watercolor portraits of frolicking kittens on the wall were cracked and askew on their nails, the desk lamp was missing its shade, and there was even a wad of chewed pink gum stuck in the folds of the green vinyl window curtains.
As far as Audrey was concerned, the $33 a night room was brilliant. Though she was certain she’d contracted leftover syphilis from a two-dollar hooker who rolled around in the unwashed bed sheets with a long-haul trucker, this sort of hotel room was the stuff that first-time solo journeys on the cheap are made out of.
Half an hour later, Audrey was standing in line to board the early bus to Memphis. She inhaled diesel fumes and bounced on the balls of her feet, clutching her yellow-canvassed backpack tightly to her chest. The right pocket of her faded Levis shook with the vibration of her cell phone, no doubt about to deliver the fifth worried message from Nathan.
“Look—,” his digitalized voice spoke angrily, “I don’t know what this is all about. Are you mad? What did I do? It’s not going to help if you don’t talk to me. I’m standing outside your apartment right now so if you’re curled up in bed ignoring me again—I’m here. And I’m gonna stay until you come out. So…just…please——
Come out.”
Audrey figured it would be another two or three messages before he realized that she wasn’t mad, and could possibly be in danger. Of course, she was in no danger and if she happened to get into it later, well—that might be okay.
Slowly the bus finished boarding, and Audrey nestled into a window seat on the middle left side. There was a sparse crowd, so there was no worry of someone sitting next to her. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to talk to someone, or if she should continue to avoid human contact. Then again, a Greyhound bus in Bumfuck, Illinois at 6:45 a.m. probably wasn’t the place to find friends. It was, however, fodder for a good solo journey.
As the bus slid on and off the freeway, darting between other small towns and stations, Audrey focused on the window. It was southern Illinois—of course there was nothing to see. However, it was nothing she’d ever seen before. She could see a whole city from her desk at work. Actually, the reception desk at Unicare Insurance Company in Madison had quite a stellar view for the droll work that was done there. She could see a good chunk of the capital building, a colorful strip of State Street, and even one of the M lakes—Monona or Mendota, she always forgot.
The bus came to a railroad crossing and stopped, opening its door and crawling across the tracks, a move required by law but ridiculous by reality. Fields of sharp, stubby corn stalks coated the brown land, as far as Audrey could see. The Wisconsin landscape was familiar, but then a dilapidated barn, painted in a disgusting cobalt blue hue snapped up on the horizon and Audrey smiled. Distance was growing.
***
Late afternoon sunlight shone in the windows of Audrey’s bedroom on the third floor of a converted shoe factory near the UW-Madison campus. Her white bed sheets were twisted around her smooth waist, and damp with sweat. Oscar, her tabby cat, was curled in a warm ball beside her.
Audrey twisted her head to the right side of the bed and her ponytail flopped loosely over one eye as she spotted Nathan reading in the rocker near the window. His brown jeans were rolled up to the knee and he wore no shirt. A pewter cross hung lazily on his bare chest, rising and falling with his steady breathing. Nathan was reading Tolstoy and rubbing his chin, which was cupped in an ink-stained hand.
Dust swirled in an eddy of sunlight and Audrey sneezed. Nathan’s eyes rose from the text and he smiled, never particularly startled by anything.
“How long have you been here?” Audrey asked, rubbing her nose.
“An hour or two.”
“Man. Have I really been out that long?”
“I guess so.”
Audrey noticed a vase of fresh daisies sitting on her kitchen table. The white and yellow flowers blended together and swirled gently in the water with the breeze. Nathan saw her looking and smiled.
“It’s your half birthday,” he said. “Thought I’d celebrate.”
Setting the book down next to the flowers, he crawled onto Audrey’s bed and began to kiss the side of her neck, down her shoulder. Sensing an intrusion, Oscar hopped down from the bed and up onto the windowsill, ready to watch all the people sifting up and down the sidewalk below.
***
“Miss? Miss??”
Audrey awoke to an intrusive finger poking her in the knee.
“Miss? It’s St. Louis. You have to get off now. There’s a break.”
Groggily, Audrey sat up and looked around. Familiarizing herself with her surroundings once again, she smiled at the elderly woman who had roused her from sleep. The woman smelled like onions and sweat, and was lacking at least half a dozen teeth.
“Thank you,” Audrey said as the woman shuffled down the aisle and out the door.
Checking her cell phone, she saw that she had one missed call from her mother and one from Nathan, though no voicemails were left. It was 5:37 in the evening, which meant it was time for dinner.
The bus depot was located in the heart of downtown St. Louis, so cheap food was not hard to find. Audrey walked a few blocks to a sub shop and ordered a footlong turkey on wheat. As she ate, she watched dozens of people flutter by, mostly oblivious to the fact that she was dining in the window. Absentmindedly flipping her phone open and shut, Audrey’s finger hovered above #2—Nathan’s number on speed-dial—but refrained from dialing.
As the early autumn sun dipped lower and lower in the sky, Audrey nursed her soda, wondering how to kill time until the bus departed again at 10 p.m. The trip from St. Louis to Memphis would be an overnight journey, requiring a night of uncomfortable sleep, all crunched up in the sticky upholstery of her bus seat. However, it would almost seem a luxury after last night’s dwellings.
Even though the bus had only crept slightly closer to the Gulf, Audrey noticed a significant increase in temperature. From outside the sub shop, she spotted a large park across Market Street. Tucking her jacket into her yellow canvas bag, she strode across the still-green grass and sprawled out under an ancient oak. The chill of the ground seeped into her skin and Audrey shivered under the quaking leaves of the tree. A jazz band was performing near a fountain in the center of the park. Each member was blowing furiously into their brass, donning maroon smoking jackets and Stevie-style sunglasses. The rush of the fountain molded with the blare of the trumpets and created a sound that added a little extra rush to Audrey’s blood.
She looked to her left and saw a grungy-looking middle-aged man propped up against a shopping cart full of black plastic garbage bags, munching on an apple. When he was finished, he tossed the core to a couple of quarreling squirrels that immediately stopped wrestling and focused on stripping the fruit of its last bit of detectible flesh.
The wind blew, sucking all the air out of Audrey’s lungs. She shivered.
