This writing was accepted for publication in the 108 page perfect-bound ISSN# / ISBN# issue/book “Seasons” Down in the Dirt, v171 (the May 2020 Issue) Order the paperback book:

Order this writing that appears in the one-of-a-kind anthology Outside the Box the Down in the Dirt May-Aug. 2020 issues collection book		get the 422 page May-Aug. 2020 Down in the Dirt 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book 2020 in a Flash the 2020 flash fiction & art collection anthology		get the 296 page flash fiction & artwork & photography collection anthology as a 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Road Trip

Mike Schneider

    The text from Osa was clear, “May I call you?” but the message was opaque. My former girlfriend of three years—two of which we lived together—we had broken up 18 months ago. I hadn’t heard from her since. As much as I missed her at first I refused to pine, moved on with Teri just a few weeks later. Now our wedding was but a month away, July 28th.
    Reluctantly I texted back, “ok.” A few seconds later my phone buzzed.
    “Liam, I need a favor, a really big one.”
    I hesitated for several awkward seconds, finally said, “If I can help you I will. What’s the problem?”
    “I need a ride to New Mexico and back.”
    “Jesus, Osa!”
    “I know.”
    She went on to explain her sister, Alicia, who lives in Taos, was scheduled for a life-saving operation at the Cleveland Clinic in two weeks, can’t travel alone because she must remain prone. And Osa can’t drive.
    “I had a fender bender after smoking a joint, drew a year’s suspension. We could take my dad’s van, I would pay for everything.”
    She had to know I was engaged; her brother works with my aunt.
    “There would be two overnights, one going, one coming back. We could get separate rooms,” she said.
    She’s a nice person but became clingier than I preferred, so I moved out. Teri and I are both teachers. We give each other space. She was currently out in Napa Valley with her mom, visiting her grandmother.
    After a long silence I gave Osa a qualified yes.
    “If Teri doesn’t mind,” I said.
    “If you can save a life go with her,” Teri said. “It’s ok. I know you love me.”
    I pulled up to Osa’s parents’ house at 7:30 Saturday morning. Her looks hadn’t changed, still stunning, even in jeans, with her wavy blonde hair, light skin, Nordic features, and slim figure.
    “If we push it I think we can make Colby, Kansas by tonight,” she said as we pulled away.
    “Wherever that is,” I replied, then didn’t say much more for the next 12 hours. Oh, we’d talk, sporadically, for five or six minutes maybe—are you still lifting, is the ad agency treating you well, did your little brother choose Brown or Penn—back and forth like that every hour or so, then fall silent again. Teri called five times for a couple minutes of chitchat, apparently not quite as blasé as she had claimed to be about me riding 3000 miles cooped up close enough to my ex that if we weren’t careful our arms occasionally touched.
    Kansas City was 350 miles short of Colby but by the time we reached it I was exhausted.
    “Looks like it will be a three-day trip. I’m sorry,” she said.
    “Me too but that’s the way it goes. At least I’m not missing work, or anything else.”
    She gave me about a quarter-inch smile with downcast eyes that pretty much said, ‘Sorry I fucked up.’
    We got one room with two beds, hit the sack right away. For some reason, an hour and a half later I hadn’t yet gotten to sleep, was staring at the ceiling when Osa, in a familiar tone, whispered, “Are you still awake?”
    Our beds were only three feet apart but I was ready as soon as I got there and so was she. God, I had missed her. I had no idea how much. Osa was so warm and loving. It was as though we had never been apart.
    Looking back, it’s hard to believe I didn’t already know it, but that night I realized breaking up with someone, and unloving them, are two different things, and finally saw my emotional attachment to Teri for what it really was, a handy conduit for the love I still felt for Osa but refused to admit. By morning we were a couple again, albeit a very tired one.
    As we were about to leave the motel, she turned to me and said, “We can go back now.”
    “What?”
    “Please don’t be mad,” she said, timidly. “Alicia’s fine. I was never able to get past you, patiently waited for you to come back. Then I heard your wedding was scheduled for the end of July and could not stand the thought of you being married to someone else, so I made up the story about Alicia.”
    I smiled, held her close for a long moment, and said, “Thank you. Perhaps we should stay a little longer and get some more sleep or whatever.”
    “Great idea,” she said with a grin, “Which first, sleep or whatever?”

Copyright of written pieces remain with the author, who has allowed it to be shown through Scars Publications and Design.Web site © Scars Publications and Design. All rights reserved. No material may be reprinted without express permission from the author.

Problems with this page? Then deal with it...