Open Lanes

by Mary Morano

  “Nope, same number since I got my first phone.” I answer, though I’m not sure where this line of questioning is leading. His features get tighter, and he keeps glancing at me. Then my phone. Then at the road. Then back to his phone again. I let him stew for a few more minutes before the tension radiating off him gets to me. “What is your issue right now? Just spit it out already.”

  He looks at me again, still not saying anything. He’s like that though. He always wanted to think through a problem in his head before speaking on it. The problem with that is he used to draw a lot of conclusions in his head, and being a male, he tends to make some weird connections that make no sense to anyone else. Me? I’m more of a I’m just going to say what’s on my mind and see how it plays out kind of person. Probably another reason why we haven’t gotten along in years. I huff out a breath, annoyed once again that I’m stuck in the car with this frustratingly annoying creature. Yes, he’s pretty to look at but there are pretty people all over the beaches in Florida. Not being stuck in a car with this one for days on end, would be no hardship for me. Ugh, just when I was beginning to think we were making progress he had to go and remind me of all the ways he drives me crazy.

  I close my eyes, leaning back again and move around as much as possible to find a comfortable spot. Just when I do, he speaks again. Of fucking course, he does. I’m beginning to think this is a game to him. Let’s see how many times we can let Nicole get comfortable and then start talking again. MEN!

  “So, you still have the same number, your phone has service since it’s playing music, and you have no idea who I would have invited on this trip with me.” He grumbles at me, allowing me some insight into how he has drawn whatever stupid conclusion he came to. “So that means you must have blocked my number.”

  Do you see what I mean? He walks from A to B and ends up at Q. I mean, seriously? Without even opening my eyes, I growl back at him.

  “What the hell are you even talking about right now? If I never blocked your number in all these years, why would I do it now? Besides we both know my mother would bring the guilt trip from hell if I ever so much as thought about blocking your number.” I feel his eyes on me and I open mine to look back at him. The tension on his face eases slightly as my words sink in. He nods his head in acknowledgement before speaking again.

  “Well, then it doesn’t make any sense. I just texted you, but your phone never rang, vibrated, or even lit up to notify you that you received a message.” That grabs my attention and I sit forward quickly, causing the belt to tighten and pull me back. I ease back allowing it to unlock before reaching forward again and grabbing my phone. I tap the screen and see no notifications. I unlock it and still nothing. I navigate to my messages and there is not a single message from him.

  “You must have the wrong number stored.” I say with a shrug, wondering why he texted me in the first place. Something about this conversation is making me nervous, I feel like I’m missing an important piece to the puzzle that will change everything, but I’m not sure what that could be.

  “Nope, it’s been the same contact since we got our phones before freshman year of high school. Nothing has changed, so why would it be wrong now.” He grabs his phone again, unlocking it with his finger before handing me it with my contact card open. I look at it, and sure enough right below the name ‘Nic’ is my correct number. I exit the contact, and pull up a blank message, enter my phone number in the ‘to’ section, and automatically my contact’s name fills in. I type in the word ‘Hi,’ and hit send. His screen changes to a message thread with my name at the top. The last message sent is the one I just hit send on. Right above that, I see where he sent the words, ‘stop playing dumb’ nearly thirty minutes earlier. Huh? I look at my phone, still nothing. I open my messenger, and pull up a text to him, typing ‘Hi,’ before hitting send. Instantly, his phone dings and my message appears on the bottom of his screen. What the hell? I try to respond from his phone again, frowning at my phone when once again nothing happens. I start to close out the text window on his phone when I realize there is a string of texts above that he must have sent, and I never received. Looking at the dates next to them, they go back all the way to the beginning of last year. What the hell? I never got any messages from him. Seeing me scrolling through, he tries to make a grab at the phone but having to keep one hand on the wheel, I easily out maneuver him. Scrolling back to the top, I begin reading the messages.

  Him: Hey Nic, I hope freshman year is going well. Hockey season starts soon, so I’ve been busy. I haven’t seen you around campus, so I wanted to check in, make sure all is good. You know where to find me if you need me.

  Him: Hey Nic, I’m not going to be going home for the holidays, we have games and practices going on throughout break. If you decide to stay around campus and need a place to stay let me know, you can always stay with me.

  Him: Hey Nic, so I get the feeling you’re ignoring me. I know I was a shithead in HS but I thought maybe we could move past that? Hit me up. Party tonight at the Hockey House if you want to come.

  Him: Hey Nic, I know you’re not a big sports fan, but if you ever want to see a game let me know, I can get you some good tix.

  Him: Hey Nic, Happy Birthday! Come over to the party tonight and let’s do some shots to celebrate!

  Him: Hey Nic, have you decided when you are going home for summer break yet? We should travel together.

  Him: Hey Nic, just checking to see if you got home okay? Can we talk at some point while we’re both home? It would be good to see you.

  Him: Hey Nic, I’m heading back next week. What about you?

  Him: Hey Nic, Happy Birthday again! Hope you have a great day. The offer of shots still stands.

  Him: Hey Nic, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay last night. You looked a little drunk, and you left with that guy before I could get to talk to you. Just let me know you got home ok? Please?

  Him: Hey Nic, I know you obviously don’t want to talk to me, but I’m hoping you at least read these. I bought a car, and I’m going to drive it back home for summer break. I was hoping you would road trip it with me, I really don’t want to drive all those days alone. We could make it fun, stop anywhere you want. Let me know.

  Him: Hey Nic, any word on if you can drive down with me?

  Him: Hey Nic, I guess you still aren’t talking to me. It’s been almost two years, can you please just talk to me so we can figure this shit out.

  Him: Hey Nic, I know you haven’t answered yet, but I’m still saving your spot as co-captain. Please?

  Him: Hey Nic, I just saw you arguing on the lawn with your bf. Just wanted to make sure you’re ok. If you ever need anything, I got a whole team of hockey guys at your beck and call. The offer still stands for a ride home, I’m leaving Sunday morning, if you want to join me. Let me know.

  What the hell? He’s been texting me since October of freshman year, that’s over 18 months ago, and I never got any of these. The last one was just this past Friday. I know exactly what moment he is referring to in that text. I had been on the lawn in the quad reading when the shithead approached me, already ranting about me going out with Jess that night. I had jumped up quickly, not liking the feel of him looming over me as if he was trying to intimidate me. He knew it was girl’s night, something we had done every month since we started college. No boys allowed. He had insisted it was because she didn’t like him and was trying to set me up with someone else. He wasn’t entirely wrong; she didn’t like him. In fact, nobody did. Why did it take me so long to realize what a jerk he was? Thinking back, I’m starting to see the dangerous pattern that was emerging and I’m glad I finally called it quits. Screw him, I should have kicked him in the balls right then and there. Then maybe I wouldn’t have been abandoned on the side of the road. Though that seems to be turning out pretty well right now.

  I reread the messages and then look over at Brayden, his embarrassment is obvious in the blush that creeps up the side of his neck into his face, even as he loo
ks straight ahead avoiding my confused gaze. I turn back to my phone, opening the contact card that reads Bray on the top, everything looks normal. His phone number is the correct number. I scroll down the card, his email is there, as well as his parents’ home number. It isn’t until I get to the bottom of the card that I’m smacked in the face with the problem.

  “What the hell?” I murmur to myself. There on the very bottom, is the option to unblock this caller. Unblock. Which means he’s currently blocked. Something, I would never ever do. No matter how much I didn’t like him or wanted to avoid him, I would never block him. Besides, we are on the opposite side of the country from anyone we know, why would I block the only person I truly know would be there in an emergency? I hit the unblock button and send myself another message from his phone to ensure it goes through this time, and it does.

  “I don’t… I wouldn’t…” I begin to try to explain to him, but my mind is still running in circles, unable to process what is right in front of me. Two thoughts hit me nearly simultaneously, fighting for my attention. The first one wins the battle pushing to the front of my consciousness, 18 months ago was when I started dating that loser. I remember how one day, out of nowhere, he started asking questions about who Brayden was and how I knew him. I had pulled up his picture on the school website, and then laughed while I told him about how our parents had planned our wedding and kids before we were even out of diapers. I never even bothered to ask what made him bring up Brayden, it wasn’t like he ever saw us together. I guess now I knew why, he must have intercepted that first text. Now that I’m looking back, I realize we almost always avoided anywhere the hockey team would be, and how at one of the few we did attend, he suggested we leave as soon as we caught sight of Brayden.

  “That little weasel.” I murmur not realizing I say it out loud before the second thought takes over. Holy shit. It’s me. I was the one he wanted to come on the road trip with. He was holding out hope for me to come with him, even when I hadn’t answered him the whole time. He was going to drive down alone because I never responded. What does that even mean? And what do I do with it? “Umm… it looks like I owe you an apology. I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have… What I mean is I think my ex must have intercepted the first message and then blocked you. He was a jealous jerk like that. I would never have just ignored you. I’m sorry you thought that.”

  He looks over at me, his eyes soft with understanding now. He nods allowing the conversation to drop. We continue to drive in silence, but my mind won’t stop going over the same questions. What does this mean? What does it change? Meanwhile, my traitorous heart pounds at the possibility of this opening a door to more than just friendship. My mind seems all too willing to jump onboard with that suggestion too. Images flood my mind. Some of us in bed, or other not so sanitary places, while some are more savory. Him holding my hand as we walk around campus, me in his jersey cheering him on. What. The. Hell. I need out of this car, now!

  “We need to stop.” I squeak out.

  “Uh, the sign we just passed said the next rest stop isn’t for forty-five miles, can you wait?” He glances over at me nervously.

  I squirm in my seat at the thought of another hour in the car. “No.” I whisper as I turn to look out the window at the trees that are passing us by. I don’t actually have to go to the bathroom, but what I do have to do is just as important. I feel his eyes on me again. Then he flicks on the turn signal and moves over to the right lane just in time to get off at the next exit.

  We make a right onto the main road it leads us to, and quickly spot a fast-food joint ahead. He’s barely able to put the car into park before I rush out, barely saying a word before I run toward the bathroom. I know he probably thinks I’m having a bathroom emergency, and while that is ridiculously embarrassing, I can worry about that later. Right now, I have a call to make.

  Moments later, I’m huddled in the corner of the furthest stall. I pull out my cell phone and dial my best friend, Emma. I need advice. My emotions toward Brayden are everywhere, and I was considering diagnosing myself with a form of Stockholm’s syndrome. It wasn’t possible that I could go from hating him to whatever this was in such little time, was it? Even with all the new information flooding my brain, the emotions that were floating through my body were not okay. Emma had grown up with us, having been my best friend since we were both kicked out of dance class at age 4 for creating a domino effect with the other dancers, on purpose. She knew Brayden almost as well as I did and had been a witness to all his cruelness and the aftereffects, she would help me get my head straightened out. At least I hoped she would.

  “Nic? Are you home yet?” Her voice was soft and girlish, harder to hear than normal due to background noise.

  “Hey, Emma, no I’m not. You got a minute to talk?”

  “Sure, just driving to work. Why are you whispering?”

  “I’m hiding in the bathroom stall at some burger place.”

  I hear her laughing through the phone. “Are you in trouble? Is this some ransom call because honestly you probably should call someone else. I’m really not useful in these situations.”

  “Hush, I don’t have long. Brayden’s really going to start thinking I have a bathroom emergency if I take too long.”

  “Hold up,” she practically screamed through the phone. “Brayden? Brayden Montgomery? Hot as fuck, I’d let him do me in the middle of town square with my preacher watching, Brayden? Future NHL star, Brayden Fucking Montgomery?”

  I sighed, I really had to consider getting some non-Brayden crazed friends soon. “Yes, Emma, that Brayden.”

  “Wait, why are you with Brayden Montgomery at a burger place?”

  “Oh, you're ready to hear my story now. I thought you had a few more questions to ask first.”

  “Nicole! Tell me what’s going on!” I smiled as she yelled at me. I missed my best friend while I was away at school. College was great and Jess was an amazing friend, but there was something to say about a friendship that spans decades. The old song from our time as Girl Scouts about making new friends but keeping the old floats through my mind as I picture her driving along yelling at me.

  “So, me and the shit stain broke up when he left me on the side of the road.” I jump into the story before she gets a chance to continue.

  “Are you for real? I knew I hated that asshole, I told you a million times to break up with him.”

  “Emma, let me finish!” I say interrupting her right back. “So, he left me, and then here comes Brayden driving along to pick me up.”

  “Ooooh! Like a knight in shining armor!” I exhale loudly making sure she can hear it on her end. “Sorry, please continue. I promise I’ll keep all commentary until the end.”

  I know she won’t, but I continue anyway, laying out the journey up to this point. I tell her how we were road tripping home, how he changed his plans and took me places I wanted to see, and how he is different. When I finally get to the part about all the text messages I found, she can’t help herself anymore. I was actually surprised that she made it that long before interrupting again.

  “Holy crap, Nic! So, he has been trying to reach out to you this whole time and you never knew?”

  “Yeah, and I don’t know what to do with that.”

  “I told you he liked you, that’s why he was always trying to keep everyone away from you.”

  “That’s stupid. He tormented me.”

  “Boys are stupid, they don’t know how to act.”

  “True that. But I won’t believe that he actually liked me until it comes out of his mouth, which it won’t, because it’s not true.”

  “Mm-hmm. So, what’s the issue?”

  “Uh… I kinda sort of think I have jumped right past renewing our friendship and dove head first into developing a little bit of a crush. You know like you would on someone who saves you.” She starts laughing, no not just laughing, she is in full-on hysterics on the other end of the line. I’m not even sure how she is still driving since she’s laug
hing so hard. “It’s not funny! This is serious. He tortured me, and now I am spending more time thinking about licking his abs than punching him in the face.”

  “He does have really nice abs.” She says finally getting herself together enough to talk. Her words unintentionally send something that feels a lot like jealousy shooting through me again. This is bad. Very, very bad.

  “Emmmmmmmma. What am I going to do?” I whine into the phone.

  “Nicole, seriously? You guys are both adults right now. He isn’t the same stupid kid he was. Who cares if you like him? Honestly, everyone figured you guys would have gotten together a long time before now. It was either you two would end up fucking or killing each other.”

  “What? Why is this the first I’m hearing this?”

  “It’s not, you just never cared to listen. But seriously, get off the phone, pull up your big girl panties, and let whatever is meant to be, be. Worst case, get yourself some hot Brayden dick, and get on with your life. Best case, who knows? But if you don’t go out there, the fact that he probably is assuming you have a horrible case of diarrhea will make your decision for you.” Crap, she was right, how long have I been in here? Hopefully, not too long. We say our goodbyes after I promise to call her once I get home.

  I flush the toilet for no reason before walking out of the bathroom stall to wash my hands at the sink. Next to me an older lady is washing hers. She looks over at me before turning back to the mirror. Obviously, she heard my whole half of the conversation and is now judging me but whatever. I have enough of my own issues to worry about right now. Like, for example, how I’m going to convince him I wasn’t in here blowing up a public bathroom. My palms begin sweating and my heart races at the thought of him assuming that, which makes me want to crawl in a hole and hide. My eyes nervously glance around for another escape as my mind starts to think of all the other ways I can get home without having to face him right now. Knowing I have no other option but to just face him, I let out a sigh of resignation and pushed the door open. There standing in the hallway leaning up against the wall is Brayden.