by D. L. Wu
“We're hardly sweethearts,” Jaime snarled. “He's kidnapped me. I'm his hostage.”
Luckily, Jaime’s words were said with enough deadpan emotion that the waitress dismissed it without another thought and smiled. “Still, I urge you to not go to bed angry at each other.”
After the woman took their food order, she left them alone. An icy, oppressive silence hung between them as they tried very hard to avoid each other's glances. In truth, they both felt miserable. Neither was willing to admit defeat, though, for they both wanted to win the game.
When the woman returned with their food, Evan winked at her in thanks. She was well aware of the fact that the silent treatment was now in play between them. She gazed at Jaime as if to beseech that she work things out. It was as if she assumed that it was the woman's job to appease the man.
Near the end of their meal, Jaime broke through the air-stifling antipathy. “Tomorrow, we can find another airport,” she said wearily. “You won't have to drive me all the way up, either. I can walk as I don't want you to get pulled over.”
He nodded broodingly. She took a deep breath, surprised that he didn't offer her another suggestion. He wasn't even trying to meet her halfway. He was still too angry, she feared. She didn't want to retain this annoying cold-shoulder rejection that now existed between them. She preferred to be civil and she felt miserable that they had fallen into the recurrent trap over and over again.
At the same time, she felt that it wasn’t up to her to apologize. He was equally at fault for everything that had happened, thus far. One thing was certain. Despite how they felt about each other now, she would never regret what happened between them earlier.
The experience was one she would treasure for the rest of her life, even if they parted ways feeling aversion toward each other. She wanted to tell him what his spoiling of her virginity meant to her. How she found the moment special. Yet, she knew he would never understand if she were to tell him, as the moment could not have been as special for him as it had been for her.
The waitress drew her attention as Evan dug through his wallet in order to pay the check. “The handsome ones aren't that easy to find, Honey. I'd hold on tight to him if I were you,” she murmured softly.
“Yeah.” She took offense to the idea that it was the woman's job to 'fix' everything in a relationship yet again. “If he holds on to me, I'll hold on to him just as tight!” Jaime whispered with forlorn, tears pricking her eyes as she did her best to ignore the stirrings of her own heart.
***
The darkness of the early evening pervaded over the road as Evan drove on. They stopped only for gas and needed amenities. Jaime got the impression that he didn't want to stop at a motel, that perhaps he didn't want them to find themselves in a compromising position yet again. Perhaps he was all the more anxious to make it to California. Whatever his reasons, she felt deeply saddened.
Just after ten that night, he stopped at a Howard Johnson's near the border leading toward Springfield, Missouri. They climbed out of the car and strode into the cool night air. Jaime clutched her beloved backpack tightly to her while Evan carried a bag containing their meager supplies. Neither was willing to speak to the other as they moved toward the motel’s office entrance.
The motel was larger than the ones they’d stayed in previously. Jaime soon learned as to why Evan had chosen it. At the check-in desk, she overheard him asking the woman specifically for a two room suite. She stared at Evan with confusion as he signed his pseudonym. He ignored her, refusing to say a word.
Once in the room, it was abundantly clear to Jaime as to why he’d requested it. This suite had two rooms, one regular bedroom with two beds and a living room with a sofa bed. She watched Evan walk over to the sofa bed and pull it out as if he meant to claim it as his personal sleeping area for the night.
Melancholy filled her, but she refused to question him. She resigned herself to the fact that they would no longer be physical with one another. Nor would they be spiritually close. They’d lost their soul mate status completely and that fact saddened her more profoundly than she would have thought it would.
Evan kept to himself, willing himself to not take notice of her. Instead, he prepared himself to take a shower. She was certain that he needed it since he’d spent quite a bit of time within the rain. Full of sadness, she watched as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Depression filled her as she heard the shower running. She sat upon one of the double beds in the adjacent bedroom, realizing that it would be the loneliest night she’d experience, thus far. Truth be told, she was no stranger to lonely nights.
A short time later, Evan strode out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. She watched as he walked through her room toward the living room, brushing his wet hair back with his free hand as he did so. Her heart raced as she observed him.
She couldn't get enough of him. He was the most handsome man she had ever come across, a fact the waitress had alluded to earlier. That idea made her all the more miserable. He was so handsome, so desirable, that she was certain she had truly lost him forever. She jumped up from the bed, anxious to stare at him for as long as it was possible. She was certain that her days with him were numbered and she wanted to commit every moment they spent together to memory.
Standing in the living room doorway, she didn't conceal the fact that she was gaping at him in the least. He stood naked, oblivious to her presence, as he rummaged through the bag and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. He looked up, momentarily, his eyes clashing with hers. He wasn't surprised to find that she was staring at him with longing. The look he gave her was rife with subdued annoyance. He looked away and pulled his underwear and blue jeans back on.
Only then, did Jaime speak. She realized, then, that she was, in a sense, trying to surrender. She was letting him win. “Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Doing what?” he mumbled, purposefully playing the innocent.
“Treating me like I'm only your charge now, like I’m a package you have to deliver.” Her voice trembled as she was on the verge of tears again.
The look upon his face was devoid of emotion as he pulled his shirt on and then secured his gun and holster into place below his right arm. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
“Where are you going?” she questioned. “It's late, you know.”
“Go to sleep,” he snapped as he slid his shoes and his jacket back on.
“Please, talk to me, Evan,” she begged.
“Nothing to talk about,” he said as he made sure that his wallet lay inside his jacket pocket. “I'm going out for a while. I don't know when I'll be back, but feel free to sleep, in the meantime.” He moved toward the suite's door.
“Tell me why things have changed so much between us!” Jaime cried out irrationally.
He stood there in silence, staring downward for a moment. Minutes passed before he released a pent-up breath. “You know the reasons as well as I do.”
“I promise I won't tell them that you made love to me,” she gasped. “How could they possibly know if I don't tell them?”
“They'll know,” he stated. “Besides, you lied to me once. How can I ever trust you again?”
Jaime took a deep breath. The urge to lash out at him in every way possible ate at her. I need to earn your trust, she thought. The irony of his supposition was mind-numbing. At first, she wanted to fight back, but she felt defeated and lonely. The feeling dissipated as she lowered her head and stared at the floor.
She blinked back her tears and said, “You're going out to find another woman, then?”
“Maybe. But more likely a plethora of drinking that will make me pass out completely, though, so I won’t have to think about you anymore,” he replied. His words sounded so hateful that it crushed her heart, then and there.
Without another word, he pulled the door open and disappeared. Little did she know, his loathsome tirade hadn’t been directed at her. It was a submission of his
weakness for her, a weakness that wasn't sitting comfortably within him. He hated the fact that she’d come to mean a lot to him in so short a time.
CHAPTER 25
Jaime spent most of her time crying into her pillow. Her heart ached with the pain of what she was going through. Evan’s indifference hurt even more. She wasn’t sure as to what she needed to do in order to set things straight between them.
He was adamant that most of what had happened was hurt her fault. Part of her wondered if he realized that he was at fault, too. Yet never once did he seem to acknowledge that fact.
Deep inside, she wanted him to tell her that he loved her. That he, too, had enjoyed the moment they’d shared between them, however fleeting it had been. She wanted to wrap her arms around him. To hold him close as they made love again. Yet she knew that was a possibility that might never take place again.
Bursting into a fresh wave of tears, she curled herself into a fetal position. She cried for what would never be. For the love she would never be able to show him. She cried because of the circumstances that led her to where she was now. Most of all, she cried for the loss of her innocence, something she knew she would never have again.
She soon sunk into a miserable slumber, oblivious to the world around her. Her sleep was fitful and restless as she tossed and turned every now and then. Dreams of Evan consumed her as she slept. She awakened, hours later, to the sound of his drunken return.
***
Evan sat at the bar of the nearest restaurant the entire time that Jaime spent crying. He had no desire for a woman, despite the fact that several had come on to him in hopes of having a rendezvous with him. Sex seemed to be the furthest thing from his mind at that moment. That, in itself, was a rarity for his sex-addled brain.
Yet he was reminded of the all too recent sexual exploit he’d committed earlier and realized the trouble it had caused him. Certainly, these women were all at the age of consent and were more than willing, but he didn't have the resolve to partake from any of them, at present. Instead, he drank himself into oblivion. Hours later, he found himself throwing up all over the barstools. The bar's bouncer picked him up without remorse and unceremoniously threw him out into the street.
Evan wandered in confusion for a while, concentrating hard on where he needed to go, as he’d forgotten as to where it was that he was staying. Eventually, he remembered he’d put his room's key card within his inside jacket pocket. He dug into his pocket, relieved to find that the card was still there with the room's number written across it. He staggered back to his room, making a bee-line for the bathroom.
He’d forgotten about Jaime until the moment he walked into the bedroom. She lay upon the bed, her face red as she tossed and turned within an uneasy sleep. He stared down at her, doing his best to remain standing. Several times, he nearly lost his balance and had to grab a hold of the end of her bed to keep himself upright.
The slight jostling disturbed her and broke through the throes of her sleep. She bolted awake, startled to find him standing at the foot of her bed. She sat there, staring at him in silence, disgusted by the fact that he was completely hammered.
He waved at her drunkenly, frowning with confusion. “What are you doing here?” he wondered, a hiccup bursting from his lips.
“I live here,” she stated sarcastically.
“Oh.”
She pointed at the door. “You live out there.”
“Okay,” he said. “But could I . . . ?” He jerked his head toward the bathroom.
She nodded, her lips thinning to a tight line. “Yes, please, before you pee on the floor.”
“I really have to puke,” he murmured and dashed into the bathroom.
She could hear him retching in the bathroom as she sat up in bed, rubbing her swollen eyes, almost feeling pity for him. Why, she wasn't quite sure. He’d done this to himself, after all. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder if she was the cause of his drinking so profusely. Was he so fed up with her that he was now inflicting bodily harm upon himself? And why was she letting herself feel responsible for his stupidity? That was almost as stupid as what he was doing to himself. Perhaps even more so.
She watched him carefully as he returned from the bathroom. He hesitated for a moment at the foot of her bed. Part of her wondered if he was going to apologize or if he was going to say something to her about their antipathy for one another. Yet, even if he did, he was too drunk to remember, so an apology would be quite worthless, she knew.
Yet the words he spoke next took her completely by surprise. Her father had always told her that sincere truths were often spoken by people when they were drunk. When they had no control over their inhibitions, their secrets always came to light.
“Jaime . . . I'm so mad at myself for how much I love you,” he replied and promptly walked out of the room.
Her heart leapt with expectation as his softly spoken words tumbled about inside her head. Although his words were a little slurred, they sounded lovely and sincere to her, none-the-less.
Is he speaking from his heart? she wondered. Does he really, really mean it?
“Oh my God!” she gasped aloud.
If only he would remember what he said come morning. Should she tell him? Would it embarrass him? Would he deny it outright? Perhaps his words were befuddled because of his inebriation. Perhaps he didn’t love her at all. The meaning behind what he’d said to her confused her. She stayed awake for the rest of the night as she found herself thinking about everything.
CHAPTER 26
Evan's drunken snoring met Jaime’s ears as the sun came up over the small Missouri hamlet. She leaned against the wall near his sofa bed and gazed dreamily at him. She’d been in love with him for awhile now. Was it possible that he was in love with her, too?
It was driving her crazy, the wonder, the hopefulness. Yet she knew what sort of man he was. He wouldn't be the type to let her know in so many words. He wasn't a gusher. He was too cool and cocky for that.
She decided she wouldn't confront him about what he’d said to her within his drunken stupor earlier. He would have to show her in his own way once he was comfortable to do so. She'd have to settle for knowing deep within her heart that he had already spoken the words to her.
Never-the-less, how could she hide the fact that she knew? She wouldn't be able to keep herself from treating him a little differently now. He would sense something was amiss, she knew. Could she pretend that things were the same between them and effectively carry on the charade of indifference?
He awakened with his usual groans and moans, clutching his head between both of his hands. Jaime smiled and held up a bottle of Tylenol as he gazed in her direction through bleary eyes. Despite the overwhelming pain he was feeling, he returned her smile. She tossed the bottle to him, grinning broadly as he managed to catch it within his hands. Thanking her, he rolled off of the bed and stumbled toward the bathroom without another glance in her direction.
***
Though they had not spoken much that morning as they took to the road again, Jaime didn't feel quite as miserable as she had before. She knew part of the reason was because of the secret she now held within her. She wanted to confront him with it, yet she knew it was not yet time for her to do so. Never-the-less, it carried her spirit far above the chilly antipathy that still hung in the air between them.
Mid-morning, Evan pulled off of the highway into a 7-11 station for a fill up. It was then that they spoke to one another for the first time that day. As the car came to a stop in front of the pump, Jaime hopped out.
Evan shoved the driver’s side door open and stepped outside, promptly calling out her name as he peered over the car’s roof. “Where are you going?”
She hurried to his side and held out her hand. “Give me some money,” she said with a straight face.
He frowned with suspicion. “For what?”
She grinned. “Just give me some money!”
“Jaime?”
She feigned a pout. “Pleas
e?”
His eyes narrowed as he rummaged within his jacket pocket for his wallet. She smiled broadly, enjoying the sense of power she was beginning to have over him. He pulled out several twenty dollar bills and placed them within her hand.
“Just going in the store, right?” he asked.
She closed her hand into a tight fist, crumpling the money between her fingers. “Thought I might use the restroom, too,” she said, baiting him.
Part of her wanted to see if he’d slip up and let his feelings for her show. To her relief, he promptly did. His voice rang out as she turned about and walked away.
“Wait!”
She turned about to face him, a look of worry was plastered across his face. Memories of their previous restroom adventure were still fresh within his mind and hers. The fact that he was worried touched her deeply, though she would never admit it to him.
“If you really need to, let me come with you?” he asked gently.
A ripple of tenderness coursed through her body. She took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”
She hurried into the store to keep herself from putting more into the situation than there really was. She took her time in gathering what she wanted, hoping that it would calm her frazzled nerves. Tossing her purchases into the back seat of the car, she signaled to him that she was ready. He followed her down the alleyway, keeping a safe distance. Had he not been with her, her heart would have exploded with fear at the similarities. Yet having him by her side made her feel safe.
“I'll just be a minute,” she said, overwhelmed by his chivalry.
He took a moment to inspect the bathroom to make sure that it was safe and empty for her. He winked at her and nodded. She hurried inside and closed the door behind her.
As he waited for her, a huge biker with long gray hair, a gray beard, and a leather motorcycle jacket came out of the men's room next door, zipping up his fly without a care in the world. Evan gave him an involuntary look of surprise and a little disgust. The man caught sight of Evan's expression from the corner of his eye.
