I've Got These Woes and I Just Can't Solve Them

I didn’t know where we were, to be honest. If I did, I’d certainly tell you. But I didn’t. I just knew that it was 2:30 in the morning, February the 4th, and we were somewhere in the middle of the country. Nearly everybody was asleep around me except for John still in the driver’s seat and my brother texting on his phone. I’d catch him smiling a little to himself every time or so I’d look over at him. That probably meant that he was talking to Ali. I felt bad for them, of course, since they’d have to live their lives with the other so far away. Same with Camille and Kennedy. Both couples had spent the days before the day we left together to make up for the time they’d be without one another. It was really sweet. Bittersweet was more like it, come to think about it.

I sighed and stretched my leg out a little more from under Pat’s body. My back was against the window and my legs were out in front of me on the floor while Pat’s head was in my lap, face up, and the rest of his body along the seat, with his feet hitting the other window. He was asleep. Very asleep, actually. His chest rose and fell in just the perfect pattern and his nostrils would flutter just the slightest. And then sometimes, if I was lucky to catch it, his eyelids would quiver a little bit and then in a second his whole face would twitch a little bit. It was so cute. It reminded me of when a puppy or a dog was dreaming and his paws flapped a bit and his furry face would move. Sometimes the dog would let out little whimpers or something. Maybe Pat was dreaming, too? Like I’ve wondered with puppies, I wondered what Pat was dreaming about.

My eyes drifted shut and I tilted my head so it would rest against the part where the window and seat meet. I could only hope that it wouldn’t make me have a stiff neck later on. But I stayed like this for what seemed like forever; my eyes closed but not exactly sleeping. My body felt like it was asleep—totally peaceful and at ease. However, my mind was another story. Unlike my body, my brain wasn’t relaxed whatsoever. No matter how much I tried to focus on the sound of the van rolling along on the street, or the soft noises of the boys’ gentle breathing, I couldn’t get my head to exit reality and enter an easy, dark, slumbering world.

I had walked into this van and sat down in this seat knowing that this tour was going to be bad for me. I already knew that. But I didn’t know if it was worse for me to be sitting here, anticipating an actual moment where things would be crashing down, or if it was worse during the actual moment. I kept telling myself that when that time came, it would be a living hell, but here I sat, nearly torturing myself. ‘What if’ questions kept popping into my head like there was no tomorrow and images flashed through my mind like it was nobody’s business.

However, soon, I finally found myself sleeping. The only problem though was that I was having a dream:
It felt more like I was watching a movie rather than being in the actual dream. So far, the ‘cameras’ were showing the setting: It was inside a house. It was a pretty nice place, nothing absolutely fancy but it was certainly fine. Everything was nice and bright. I could make out some windows here and there, and then a lovely wooden staircase. I could see all these things—the white walls of this apparent foyer and the brown hardwood floors—but I couldn’t hear anything. There were no voices chatting within the house. There wasn’t any particular sound effect I could hear like a TV. There weren’t even birds chirping or car doors shutting outside the windows displaying a bright and sunny day. I started feeling a little frustrated with this, when the imaginary camera started moving again, about to display another thing for me to see. It was moving slowly. It was teasingly slow, really.

Then I finally heard a long, strong intake of breath. It seemed to make me open my eyes, only to see Pat’s groggy eyes squinting. It was his breath I heard that made me wake up. He looked around in front of him for a second before his eyes flickered up to my face. He smiled gently and slowly sat up.

I adjusted my posture against the window. My lap caught a chill as the air hit my thighs that Pat was previously shielding with his body. I looked up at him just in time to see him turning his head my way. “Hey,” I said in a near whisper from just waking up.

Pat’s mouth curved into a gentle smile as he blinked his dark eyes at me. Next he reached up and pulled a piece of long, messy brown hair away from his face. Then he asked in a still-tired, slightly husky voice, “Where are we?”

“Uh…” My eyes left his face for a moment and roamed quickly around the van. Garrett was now asleep with his phone away, Peter was awake in the passenger’s seat, Kennedy was dozing on and off, and Jared was just opening his light eyes.

“I don’t really know,” I finally said. “I just woke up, too, and before I fell asleep I had no idea where we were either.” I shrugged and gave him an apologetic look.

He yawned and rubbed his face. “Okay then.” Pat adjusted himself in his seat and called out, “John, where are we?”

John tilted his head up, acknowledging us as he looked in the mirror back at us. Then he answered, “Tulsa, Oklahoma.”

“Tulsa, Oklahoma,” I repeated to myself. I rubbed my bangs out of my face. “Alright…”

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” John replied to Pat, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Peter messed with the buttons and fucked with the time. The clock’s like a billion hours and minutes ahead now.”

“Ugh,” Peter scoffed. “I didn’t mean to freaking do it! My foot kicked it when I was nodding off...”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” John responded.

“Nice, Peter,” I said, alright making the move to get my phone from my bag.

“Great,” Peter threw his hands up dramatically. “Now I’m already getting lip from the bird in the back.”

I frowned and couldn’t help but a laugh a little. “’The bird in the back’?” I whispered to myself. John and Pat laughed in their seats. “It’s just about 6:30 in the morning,” I announced.

“Cara,” Garrett groaned, his eyes still closed. “Please shut your face.”

“Well sorry, but—”

“No, no,” John defended me, “Everybody needs to get up anyway. We’re at a Denny’s and I’m hungry and tired, so we’re gonna eat and then Peter, you’re driving.”

“Yaaaay,” he said unenthusiastically.

John parked the van and its motherload of stuff in the trailer in a space next to a red Dodge truck. “Okaaaaaay, everybody! Wake up!” And before anybody even responded, Peter opened the door and got out.

***

“How come it’s always Denny’s we seem to go to?” I asked myself aloud while scanning the large menu.

“I think it’s a force of habit by now,” Pat answered me.

“Plus,” added Jared with a menu in his hands, “The food isn’t horrible.”

I nodded, deciding that the two of them were right. I continued to read the menu before me, not quite deciding on anything yet. I felt like everything on the menu were the same common breakfast foods, only in many different combinations. Eggs, bacon, and toast; eggs, sausage, and toast; eggs, bacon, and a muffin. Nice way to shake it up—add a muffin.

“What are you getting?” I asked aloud, awaiting an answer from anybody that happened to hear me.

“Omelet!” Peter called, excited.

I frowned a little, the idea of an omelet not appealing to me at the moment. I really didn’t want anything big, but I knew that I needed to eat because who knows when the next time it would be when we ate. Then another thought occurred to me just as I was scanning the description of the Greek omelet: What if I was pregnant right now? That would mean that I had to eat properly, right? What happened to women and their children when they didn’t eat right or even eat at all?

Easy now, I told myself. You don’t even know what is or isn’t inside your body right now.

But thoughts had already begun to plague my mind for the day. “I really don’t want that much food,” I mumbled.

“Just pick something, Cara,” Garrett sighed. “Our waitress is coming back, so hurry up.”

I rolled my eyes and kept looking through the laminated pages. However, my brother was unfortunately right, for the waitress did come back with a notepad and pen, ready to take our orders. Thankfully, she started on the other end—John’s side—and worked her way up to me. I put the menu down and looked up at her middle aged face just as she finished with Pat, whom was sitting next to me. It was my turn now.

“And you, dear?” She asked, pen point pressed to the small paper, ready to go.

“Uh… Can I order from the kids’ menu?”

She stifled a smile behind her nearly plum-colored lips and slightly raised a dark eyebrow. “Are you 12 years old or under?”

I sighed at my failed attempt at a smaller order. “No,” I mumbled. “I’ll just have eggs and toast.”

“What sort of toast?”

“White, please,” I replied, feeling embarrassed.

“Alrighty then! I’ll be back,” she announced.

“Nice, Cara…”

I shot my brother a dark look as some of them chuckled, and leaned my cheek into my palm. “It was worth a shot.”

Garrett responded sarcastically after taking a sip of soda, “Yeah, ‘cause you could pull off being 12.”

“Well—”

“Noooo,” Peter interrupted me, eyes on me but not on my eyes. I frowned when I noticed that he was mainly referring to my chest.

I huffed. “Fine.”

We sat around the table and talked for the next fifteen minutes or so before the food was brought out to us. Like I had expected, they had given me tons of eggs that I didn’t want. I’d probably end up eating two out of four slices of toast, and then a fourth of the eggs on my plate. It didn’t take me long to conclude that I was full, so while everybody else finished their breakfasts, I went to the restroom to pee and brush my teeth.

I weaved in and out through the tables of dining customers, holding the bag on my shoulder closer to my body so that I didn’t whack anybody. When I finally reached the door to the ladies’ room, I was happy to see that nobody else was in there. I did what I had to do in the stall, and washed my hands afterwards. Then I went on to brushing my teeth and rinsing when I was done.

With my bag on my shoulder, my arm pushed the door open, only to come to a loud halt. I had hit something. I quickly walked out, ready to apologize if needed. But I forgot about saying any sort of sorry when I realized what I hit was the men’s bathroom door, which was opened by John.

“Oh,” I mumbled, letting the women’s door close behind me.

John let out a laugh. “Sorry?”

“Mm.” I nodded and walked back out to the table. My back felt a warm, weighted sensation upon it; no doubt it was John’s stare. He was probably confused, but it didn’t matter anymore, for I was confused as well.