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

After the show in Georgia, we drove for a few hours on the nearly deserted southern highway. I guess the plan was to stay in a hotel that was somewhere in between Georgia and Alabama for a night before continuing our journey down to Montgomery. There we would stay for the couple days before the show. Then we’d be off again to Memphis. It kind of sucked how we had to drive up to Tennessee just to come back down the highway to Texas anyway. But the boys didn’t mind. They never seemed to. They just lived for their music and fans, and everything else came secondary, and for that, I sort of admired them.

“If I see another church or McDonald’s, I swear…” Peter sighed and ran a hand through his hair, rolling his eyes and turning away from the dingy window.

“Well,” Jared started, “We’re in the south, dude. What did you expect?” His chest rumbled with a short laugh.

“We’re actually staying in a church tonight,” sarcastically said John from the driver’s seat. “Everyone gets a pew to themselves.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly where I wanna be: in a dark church I’ve never been to in the middle of the night in the middle of the south.” Garrett leaned his head back on the seat and shook his head a little. “Sounds like a scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

“Sounds great!”

I smiled at Pat’s comment to my brother as we pulled into the driveway of the Days Inn we would be staying at that night. In the middle of this dark exit just off the highway, it resembled the golden gates of Heaven, as it was the lightest and brightest thing for, what seemed like, miles. We quickly and robotically got our things and checked in. As I looked around, I could almost see the small triumphant and thankful smiles on the guys’ faces; a hotel was like heaven while touring.

“Come on, I’ve got our key,” Pat gently stated to me with a smile. He grabbed his backpack, swinging it onto his back, and kindly carried my magenta duffle bag for me.

I followed him to our room, which happened to be on the ground floor. The walkway, which was outside, was dimly lit and I could hear our footsteps echoing softly on the concrete. I opened the door for Pat and I and we dropped our stuff against the wall. We both seemed to sigh at the same time.

“The shower’s yours,” I told Pat as I walked further into the room, sitting on the end of the bed.

Pat picked up his backpack and dropped it on the bathroom floor. Then he turned back around and kissed me on the cheek before saying, “Thanks, babe.” And then he swung his body back into the white bathroom before beginning his shower routine.

Meanwhile, I grabbed the remote, flipping through channel after channel. I hated that the channels were always different. Why was MTV on channel 54 in New York City, then 32 in Tallahassee, then 68 in Philadelphia, etc.? It was just frustrating. “Don’t know why I really care though,” I mumbled as I gave up looking for something to watch, letting my body lie back on the stiff bed.

I looked up and blinked a few times. As I looked at the bumpy, eggshell white ceiling, all I could think about was how I wasn’t very tired despite it being almost ten o’clock at night during a busy tour. I actually felt kind of restless, like I needed to be somewhere, and I was late. Late.

“Fuck,” I mumbled as I ran a hand through my hair, closing my eyes for a second longer than needed. “Late.” The word reminded me that I couldn’t remember when the last time I had my period was. As much as I wanted to disprove and disagree with it, I’m almost positive that I was late for my period. The thought has been on my mind, but it was something I’d forget about until something random stirred up the thought, rousing it back to life like a dead bug you’re desperately trying to kill.

I moved my numb fingers a little and I realized that somewhere in between all of my thoughts, I had laid both of my hands flat against my lower abdomen. I looked down at the sight as I bit on my lower lip gently. The longer I looked at my hands on my stomach, the more antsy and freaked out I felt. So I indubitably took them away and by my sides, finally.

After another five minutes, Pat came out of the steamy, warm bathroom in the clothes he’d be wearing to bed. He threw his bag somewhere near the bed and told me that I could take my shower now, so that’s exactly what I did.

***
An hour or so later, Pat and I were in bed together, bodies entwined together contently. We talked about the tour, the band, their music, and, for some reason, our childhoods. Pat told me funny stories about him and his family, including a time where he was Captain Hook for one Halloween. I told him about the year I tried dance classes but the teacher was so serious and hated how I only wanted to wear my tap shoes. Then things turned a little more serious when we started talking about my parents, specifically my father.

“Was he ever, like… violent?” Pat frowned as he asked the question. I felt so close that I thought I could see every single strand of hair in his dark eyebrows as they pulled together from his expression.

“No,” I answered softly. “Just a little distant.” I held onto Pat as I laid my head down on his chest. “Sometimes,” I started, trying to think about my dad, “it almost felt like he wasn’t there. Like he worked kind of a lot.” I struggled to recall memories of my father during daily life, not including things like Christmas and me and Garrett’s eighth grade graduation.

I could almost tell what Pat was going to ask before the words even left his mouth. “You don’t think he was cheating on your mom or anything like that, do you?”

I frowned, even though I knew he’d ask that. “No,” I shook my head quickly. “My dad was more likely to work overtime than ask my mom how her day was or compliment her. That was the problem.” I sighed. “I guess… I don’t know.” I licked my lips, trying to say the words again. “I guess he wasn’t the best dad or husband, but he was a good provider, you know? He worked hard for us. I know he loved us,” I scrambled, thinking that that didn’t sound right, “I mean, he loves Garrett and I still, and probably still my mom a little bit too, but my parents just wanted different things out of their relationship. I’m actually surprised it lasted as long as it did.” I looked up at Pat.

When my eyes met his, a warm smile drew upon his lips. “You’re so smart, Cara.”

I gave him a rather sympathetic smile, a gesture that suggested that he didn’t really know what he was saying. However, I politely said, “Thanks, hun. I don’t think I’m particularly smart, but thanks anyway.” I kissed him on the cheek. As I pulled away, I noticed the glassiness of his brown eyes, telling me he was ready to sleep. “Let’s go to sleep, babe.” I gave him a small smile before kissing him on the lips and telling him goodnight. Pat turned out the light and we were ready to fall asleep.

Only I didn’t.

***

By the time it was one in the morning, the idea of sleep was something I had long been wishing for. Frankly, as I looked around the room at all of the dark shapes and shadows for the millionth time, I was just about giving up on sleeping. Tossing and turning didn’t help one bit, and I didn’t exactly have those options anymore since Pat’s body was fully pressed up against mine. I didn’t want to disturb his peaceful slumber just because my mind wouldn’t shut off and my body wouldn’t relax.

“Oh my God,” I sighed so quietly, it could have been mistaken for a breath of air. The frustration had completely consumed my body. I had had enough of trying to sleep. My feet ached to be on the firm ground, moving, moving towards I don’t know what.

So I followed my body’s desire by getting up as slowly and carefully as I could manage. When I was fully standing up, I gently pushed my pillow against Pat’s body, so it’d feel like somebody was there with him. Then I pushed my feet into my boots, stumbling a little while doing so, and then stuffed the bottoms of my red checkered pajama pants inside as best as I could. I felt around for my peacoat, sighing with relief as my fingers felt the familiar stiff fabric. Then I slipped the coat on and soundlessly exited the hotel room.

I didn’t know where I wanted to go, or even where I seemed to be going. I just let my feet take me. I seemed to move urgently, as if I had just stolen something or I was doing something illegal and I was going to be caught at any moment. Even if that were true, there was nobody around to even catch me. I felt like the only person in the world.

Eventually, I was away from the Days Inn itself, and was standing on the edges of the giant parking lot that curved this way and that. It wasn’t very bright out here, but there were a few lights coming off of the side of the hotel’s exterior. Those lights illuminated the few cars in the parking lot, but not including our van. In fact, standing in this spot in the near darkness, I wasn’t even sure where the van was.

I guess that was my excuse, my destination to now search for.

My feet began shuffling in a direction that I guessed would be right. My arms were snaked around my frame, partly because I was a little cold and partly because I didn’t know what to exactly do with my hands. I kind of wish I was a smoker at this very moment because then I’d have something to do with them. I could almost imagine the cigarette fumbling amongst my fingers between passes to my lips.

Just as I was forgetting the thought, I looked up to see the side of the giant white van off in the distance. A few strands of my hair blew into my face from the wind that was conjured up from my somewhat brisk of a walk. I pushed them over with the rest of my bangs as I thought about smoking again. I could almost hear the smooth rattle and pop of the lighter as I ignited the end of the cigarette. I could smell the smoke.

My face contorted a little. “What?” I whispered to nobody, confused.

I could literally smell cigarette smoke. This wasn’t just my imagination anymore. I was positive that I could feel the scent of smoke hugging my nostrils and floating up into my nasal passages. Besides this, the only other things I felt were confusion and curiosity. These feelings drove my body closer and closer to the van, circling it to find the source. What I found on the other side of the van wasn’t very surprising, but it was an odd coincidence.

“John?” I asked, even though I knew it was him. I laughed softly and a little awkwardly as I watched him turn quickly in my direction, a cigarette to his lips.

“Oh, shit,” he said, breathing out smoke into the air. “Hey, Cara.”

“Hi.” I swallowed and bit my lip gently. I didn’t really know what to say.

“Couldn’t sleep, or did you need something from the van?”

“Ummm,” I began, looking off to the side. “I couldn’t sleep. I’m not really sure why I decided to come out here and look for the van.”

But John had an answer for this, something that sounded predetermined, like he had already been thinking about it himself. “I think it’s because we all find safety in it. It’s kind of like a home base, you know?” He took another drag of the cigarette before continuing. “We always come back to it at the end of the day, when we’re all tired and shit.”

I thought about his answer and began to nod, agreeing with him. “Yeah,” I replied softly. “You’re right.” I watched him take yet another drag of the cigarette before blowing out the smoke a few moments after. “Are you okay, John?” I took a step closer to him, even though the distance between us still averaged to about four feet.

John nodded as smoke exited through his nostrils and mouth. “Yeeeah,” he answered, stretching the word out in a pitch a little higher than his usual speaking voice. “Are you asking because I’m smoking or because I’m leaning against our dirty van in the middle of the night in a deserted parking lot?”

I offered him a small smile as I answered him. “Both, I guess.”

“Well,” he started, “I seemed to do the same thing you did cause sleeping wasn’t working out, and the smoking thing…” He shrugged and flicked the end of the lit cigarette, causing some light gray ash to float away with the wind. “I do it when I’m stressed, or nervous, or whatever. I mean, I’m sure you’ve seen me smoke before a show.”

“What are you worrying about?” I leaned on the van too, except on my left shoulder, facing John. My arms were crossed.

John smiled and looked down. I’m pretty sure he shook his head a few times. “I don’t know.” I think he was lying, but I didn’t want to press the subject. John didn’t give me a chance to anyway, because he suddenly held out the cigarette to me and looked up, asking me with his cool eyes if I wanted it.

I opened my mouth, ready to answer but didn’t know what to exactly say. I thought about taking it and trying it, simply because I’ve never tried smoking a cigarette before. It just never intrigued me. And after all, I had just been imagining smoking only minutes ago. However, I didn’t want to do it. I looked down at my stomach as I realized the true reason why I didn’t want to. “No, thanks.”

Through my lashes, I could just barely see John smiling, as if he was entertained by my decision to not smoke with him. My suspicions were proved right as he asked, “Why not?”

I looked at him and frowned curiously up at him as I wondered why he even asked that. Like I said, I think he was entertained. “I just don’t want to.” I couldn’t tell him it was because I could possibly be pregnant. I couldn’t tell him that even if he wasn’t already smoking due to stress.

“Afraid of cancer or something?”

My frown deepened. “What? No, John.” I shook my head quickly a couple times. “Well, yes, I’m afraid of cancer, everyone is, but that’s not why I don’t want to smoke out here with you.” I shrugged before moving some hair away from my face. “I just don’t want to, like I said before.” I let the irritation seep through my words.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding up his hands in a surrender gesture briefly before flicking the cigarette and getting rid of it altogether.

I sighed and tore my eyes away from him as I stood up straight. “I’m just going to go back inside,” I mumbled, already beginning to turn my body back toward the hotel, where I came from, away from John.

“No, wait, Cara,” John said, taking two long strides closer to me. He was standing so close, I could feel the presence of his body through my coat. “Stay out here. With me.”

I looked up and stared into his gorgeous light eyes, thinking about how pretty they were when they caught the light, as I reflexively answered in a small voice, “Okay, John.”