Out of sight

After a few hours the driving often became a kind of meditation, a retinue of handlings and decisions he barely had to think about anymore. The giant machine surrounding him just became a part of his body and controlling it became as easy as wiggling a finger. Yet even though Jim had already driven for somewhere around seven hours today, suddenly every single turn of the sixteen wheels underneath him seemed to twist and turn his insides. With wide, sleepy eyes he stared out at the road, street lights glaring every few feet. He shook his head, unable to understand what was happening to him, as his wife continued over the phone…

“You were never home Jim! Never! More than half the year you spend out on the road away from me, I mean, what did you expect? I have asked you so many times before to just work a little less, and don’t give me that same old excuse of ‘we need the money’, because I’m certain you could find something else to do, something that’ll keep you closer to home. But no, you’ve always chosen work over me.” Jim had stopped trying to get a word in, having years of experience in arguing with his wife, he knew that it was best to just let her rant, butting in rarely achieved the desired reaction. Still, even if he had wanted to, right now he had no idea what to say.

“So, that’s what I wanted to tell you. Howard said I should just text you, but I felt like you at least deserved a phone call. Take care of yourself Jim, please and don’t try to change my mind about this, because that time has long passed.” With those final words Mindy hung up the phone, leaving Jim alone in the silence of his truck’s cab, staring out at the open road, completely dumbfounded.

Red break lights bloomed in front of him like roses, joined by the shimmering of those few stars already visible in the darkening sky. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted his exit coming up and with a flick of his finger he turned on his turn signal. Again he shook his head. Damn near twenty years… twenty goddamn years of marriage and now his wife was leaving him for her colleague, Howard. He’d had the guy over for dinner before, had stood beside him at the grill, shooting the shit. Jim wondered how long it had been going on, feeling a boiling rage burn his insides. Slowly he tried to swallow it away, knowing that those kinds of destructive thoughts only served to hurt him further.

With a twist of his large steering wheel Jim turned into the exit lane and drove towards the rest stop he saw illuminated by a neon sign in the distance. As he got closer he saw a handful of other trucks parked on the lot, all there so that their driver could rest their eyes. Jim supposed most of them would just be camping in their cabs, as he himself was won’t to do. But hidden behind some shrubs, in a state of disarray, Jim knew he would find the weather-worn sign of the 24/7 motel. He needed a shower, he thought, and a night’s sleep not on the thin mattress barely big enough to fit his large frame. Jim pulled into the parking lot and took his time to park the sixteen wheeler, reversing into a spot at the far end of the lot. He tried to keep his mind occupied by the same old routine he had been performing for decades, but it only served to remind him of his wife’s words and all the time’s in the past that she had said something similar. Pulling the key from the ignition, Jim cursed himself under his breath, pushing down the onslaught of emotions threatening to overtake him down into his gut. That’s where he kept most of them anyway.

Whilst climbing out of the truck, Jim grabbed his phone and his wallet out of instinct, pushing his wallet into the back pocket of the blue jeans he was wearing. For a short moment he stared at his phone, a pained expression on his face. Knowing that he’d likely be drinking tonight, he decided it might be best to leave the thing behind, in hopes of avoiding phone calls he was sure to regret. Jim locked the truck, threw on his coat and began wandering towards the motel.