by Quinn Loftis
Samantha knew exactly how to handle those tactics. She would have gone in to full-fledged combat mode and finally been granted the chance to tell Derek exactly how she felt and how she never wanted to see him again. She would have threatened to call the police, to get a restraining order… All the old defensive maneuvers she’d always threatened in the past but never acted upon. Now, he wasn’t doing any of the things she expected, and she didn’t know how to handle it.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind. Has Derek really changed? Was it possible he had actually taken the time away from her to become a better human being? Could it be that Derek was no longer the domestic abusing, sickly manipulative scum bag she’d fallen twistedly in love with all those years ago? Impossible.
But what if he has?
Samantha took a moment to suspend disbelief, give Derek the benefit of the doubt, and ask herself the sixty-four-million-dollar question she’d been refusing to face up to this point.
What would I do if Derek has changed and wants me back? I couldn’t take him back. Could I? Even if his change was genuine, I’d be a fool to take him back. He’s burned me too badly. Derek didn’t just break my heart, he ripped it out of my chest, threw it in front of his pickup truck, and ran it over. He squished it on the pavement and left nothing but a liquid mess for me to clean up. I couldn’t forgive him for something like that, no matter how much I loved him once, even if he has genuinely changed. Because no matter how much I might secretly want to be with him, I will never forget how I felt standing in the parking lot of Roanoke’s Roasters as his squalling truck tires faded into the distance. I will never forget sobbing into my hands while I sat in my car. I will never forget how I felt coming home to a totally empty apartment. I will never forget how Derek ruined my life. No, his crimes were too severe to be forgiven, at least not by me.
So, despite the part of her that secretly wanted to talk with her ex-boyfriend, Samantha did her best to put him out of her mind. It wasn’t easy. Regardless of all his faults, the man still held some kind of psychological control over her.
To combat this hold, Sam played the dutiful bridesmaid. The weeks leading up to the bachelorette trip were packed with wedding decisions. She’d given her honest opinion on flowers, decorations, dresses, tuxedos, vows, and music. Not once did she accidentally daydream that she was actually the one picking out a dress for her own wedding instead of Charity’s. Nor did she imagine what Derek’s new-and-improved physique might look like in one of the hundreds of tuxedo designs she’d helped Charity look through for Brent. Nope, nuh-uh. Not once.
Though, at times, Samantha felt her best friend could see right through her, she did her best to keep her thoughts about Derek secret from Charity. The girl would lose her mind if she suspected, even for a second, that some small part of Samantha—no matter how miniscule—wanted to see Derek again. At least once a day, and usually several times, Charity had reminded her to be strong and asked her if the son of a bitch had texted her. “All quiet on the western front” was how Samantha had taken to answering her friend. Each time she’d done so, she could see Charity’s face visibly relax but only temporarily, as if the girl was waiting for news of a nuclear missile strike that kept being perpetually delayed but not cancelled. Samantha couldn’t help but wonder herself when that strike was going to finally come.
Not only had things been quiet on the Derek home front, but she hadn’t heard much out of Henry Hyena, either. He’d been in the coffee shop his usual two times a week, but he seemed to actually be staring at her less intently lately. He hadn’t shown up at lunch time and, from what she knew, he hadn’t been staking out her place. That was at least one thing she could stop worrying about. Maybe he would finally become disinterested when his prophecy didn’t eventually come true.
Strangely, the only time Samantha forgot about her ex-fiancé, was when that pathetic sap Jason O’Neal posted his internet videos. Other than the wedding, Jason was all Charity and Jessica ever talked about. So, after telling them to shut up about the guy a hundred times, Samantha finally gave in and adopted an “if you can’t’ beat ’em, join” ’em attitude. She’d reluctantly set her own video channel to notify her whenever a new “Jason’s Lost His Mind—North American Tour” video was posted. He’d posted two this past week. Both of them had left Samantha unsure of her previous conviction that Jason was some kind of scam artist.
The first video was titled “Phoenix” and began with a short recording of Jason in a helicopter flying over the Grand Canyon. The views were spectacular and, over the whine of the engines, Jason had yelled to the camera about how Bethany would have loved it and appreciated the views, blah, blah, blah. He held up a purple flower, kissed it, and shoved it out a tiny window in the cockpit, where it quickly flew away on the wind. More mushy stuff. Nothing new there.
But then, back on the ground, Jason had talked with the pilot. The man was a grizzled former marine called Major Wulrich. One glance at him told you he was no one to be trifled with. Despite the lines in his face and gray hair and beard, the pilot’s muscular physique spoke of a life of discipline that he still rigorously maintained into his later middle age years. The man had been surprisingly amiable to being interviewed for Jason’s web video. In a gravelly voice, Wulrich explained how he had learned to fly in the military and spoke about how he’d flown missions in Desert Shield and Desert Storm in Kuwait in the early nineties. After hearing Jason’s story, the pilot spoke poignantly about friends he’d lost in the Gulf War. Then, to Samantha’s shock, the major teared up and embraced Jason in a huge bear hug. He whispered some words in Jason’s ear that the camera didn’t pick up and then released him. Jason turned to camera, a puzzled look on his face.
“Gonna sign off for now, America. I’ll see you on the open road,” he said and clicked the camera off.
What the hell is with this guy, Jason? Samantha thought as she watched the helicopter pilot become emotionally moved after hearing Jason’s story. He’s like a walking Nicholas Sparks novel. Surely, someone like an old combat veteran wouldn’t fall for Jason’s crap. I thought those guys were supposed to be tough. Maybe this Jason guy is legit after all if he can soften this old guy’s heart. Oh, well. What difference does it make to me? Even if the guy is for real, guys like that are one in a million. No, one in a billion. God, Charity and Jessica are going to be insufferable after seeing this one.
The second video of the week went much farther in convincing Samantha Jason wasn’t a phony. It was clear as soon as the video started playing the tone was going to be entirely different from what Jason had posted in the past. When Jason’s face appeared on the screen, Samantha noticed pronounced bags under his bloodshot eyes. The inside of his RV could be seen in the background. Paper plates, cups, dirty clothes, and empty beer cans littered the inside of the motorhome.
“Hello, America,” he said.
Immediately, Samantha could hear a difference in Jason’s voice. She couldn’t really articulate it, but it just seemed … flatter … somehow deader, maybe, than it had before. It was as if Jason were somehow out of energy and couldn’t find the strength to force his vocal cords to form words.
“I wanted to give a quick update before I hopped on a plane to Hawaii. Not really sure how much I’ll be able to post next week,” said Jason. “First off, I wanted to thank everyone for their recommendations to take the helicopter tour of the Grand Canyon in Phoenix. That was truly amazing, just like everyone said it would be. I also want to respond to all the comments I’ve gotten about what the pilot whispered to me before I signed off in my last video. I didn’t even think about it at the time, but apparently you guys were pretty curious about what Major Wulrich had to say.”
Hmm, I hadn’t even wondered about that, but now I’m curious.
“It was nothing profound,” said Jason. “Well, maybe it was. He simply told me to keep soldiering on and eventually it would be okay. But he did give me a warning. He said I would come to a point where I’d have to let Bethany go for
good. A clean break. No hanging on to memories. No more honoring her life. He said if I didn’t…” Jason paused and gritted his teeth, looking away from camera. After several long moments, he continued. “He said if I didn’t, that I’d eventually go crazy. He said the grief would get the better of me, and I’d go off the deep end. He said he’d seen it a hundred times before in the soldiers he’d served with. He also said he’d pray for me, for whatever that’s worth.”
Jason went quiet and looked directly into the camera. Then he spoke again. “I don’t care what Major Wulrich says, I’m not doing that. I’m not letting her go. I’m not forgetting about her. I can’t. I’ll die first.” He slammed his fist down onto the table and the camera shook. Seconds ticked by as Jason stared at the camera, his eyes glistening. He chewed on his tongue for a minute and then his eyes began to dart around the inside of the RV. Finally, he let out a big sigh and turned back to the camera. When he spoke again, his voice sounded differently, even deader than it was before. “I did some stuff in LA today. I didn’t get to record it. I’m sorry. I was going to tell you all about it in this video, but I don’t feel like it right now. I’ve gotta go.” The screen froze as Jason clicked the stop button on his phone.
Samantha gasped in spite of herself. He didn’t use his little catchphrase, she thought. He didn’t tell us he’d see us on the open road. He must be really messed up. Us? Who is this us? She asked herself. I don’t care about this guy. Still, it seems he might be human after all. It sucks to see him hurting.
Then Charity’s words came back to her. Brent thinks he’s going to kill himself, drive his RV off a cliff or something.
Samantha sat silent for a long while just staring off into space considering what she’d seen. Would Jason really do something like that? She hoped he wouldn’t film it. Sam shook her head. Before, she’d been tired of her friends constantly droning on about the guy and forcing her to watch his silly videos. Now, in addition to secretly hoping every chirp of her phone was a text from Derek, she became equally disappointed the notification wasn’t a new video posted on the ‘Jason’s Lost His Mind—North American Tour’ video channel. She didn’t want to admit it, but she hoped her last sight of Jason wasn’t him slamming his fist down on the table with blurry tears in his eyes. She had to face the truth that Jessica had been right. Deep down, she did feel some sympathy for Jason and she wanted him to find peace. But it looked to Samantha that he was driving away from the peace he sought rather than toward it.
Chapter Twelve
Jason sat in the crowded Los Angeles airport terminal. Though people milled all around him waiting to board their flights, the seats immediately beside him were empty except for his carry-on backpack, which occupied one of the chairs. Jason turned the paper bearing Bethany’s favorite poem over and over in his hands as he stared at it. He read the lines again, not that he needed to. He’d read the poem at least a half dozen times every day since he started his journey across America and now the words were seared in his brain. He could still hear Bethany’s voice when she would recite the poem to herself, so soft and tender. But to his dismay, the memory was beginning to fade. She would say the words absentmindedly, like some people would vacantly hum a catchy tune to themselves. ‘Strong and content I travel the open road.’ Her voice echoed in his mind, though fainter than it had been even a few weeks ago. Tears began to run freely down his face now. He wanted to honor his wife’s memory, not lose it. But that’s exactly what was happening. The deep hurt that he’d felt for so long was evaporating. The gaping whole within him that had been left by Bethany’s death was being filled. But the thing taking its place was far worse—apathy.
Jason was beginning to feel dead inside and he recognized it. He realized that without Bethany, his life on earth truly was meaningless. The man had spent the past seven months just trying to survive. After Bethany and the girls passed, he didn’t know up from down or day from night. He could hardly go five minutes without sobbing. “‘One more day”’ became his constant mantra. If he could only survive one more day, then maybe, just maybe, he could get over her loss. But the healing never came. His friends and family rallied to his side. They did everything they could to try and support him. His brother forced him out of the house, dragging him to bars, restaurants, football games, anything he could think of to take Jason’s mind off of Bethany. Nothing worked. Jason knew Jordan meant well—they all did—but they didn’t understand. They couldn’t. Their worlds were still intact.
Jason had planned on making a quick video in the airport terminal to update America on his progress. But he knew it would be futile. He wouldn’t be able to get through it right now. If he tried to talk about Bethany, or about his current feelings, he’d just end up sobbing in the middle of the airport like a lunatic. That probably wasn’t the best idea at the moment.
Jason stood up, shoved the poem into his pocket, and shouldered his pack. He began walking through the terminal, trying to find something, anything, to occupy his mind. He wandered through the shops and bookstores, perusing the latest bestsellers. Nothing captured his interest. Jason had once been an avid reader of fantasy, science fiction, and adventure stories. Now, he found that nothing captured his interest for longer than a few pages. The magic he’d once found in escaping to the fantastical worlds that rested in the pages of a book was gone. Like everything else good in the world, it had died on the side of a two-lane highway in Northern Louisiana.
“Can I help you, sir?” A voice snapped him back to reality.
“Huh?” he said in response, turning to see a young, blonde woman wearing a crisp bookstore employee uniform staring at him.
“Can I help you?” she repeated. “You’ve been staring at the same book for ten minutes.”
“I was?” Jason asked dumbly. He looked down at the book in his hands. He hadn’t even realized he was holding anything.
“Yes,” the woman said. “Are you okay?” Her brow furrowed and a look of concern crossed her face.
Jason took a deep breath. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He hesitated. “I was just, um, nervous about the flight, I guess. Sorry.” He put the book back on the shelf, lowered his head, and began to walk out.
“Wait,” the woman said quickly. “Are you … yeah, you are. You’re Jason O’Neal, the guy from the internet videos.”
Jason stopped and turned back to her, shrugging. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it. I watch all your videos. My name is Trinity.”
Before he knew what was happening, the woman had embraced him, squeezing him tightly. After a few seconds, she let him go and pulled back. Jason was astonished to see tears in her eyes. The next thing he knew, Trinity was telling him about her mother who was battling breast cancer. She explained that her mother had to spend all day at the doctor’s office receiving chemotherapy, and they both spent much of that time watching his videos. Jason didn’t really know what to say in response, so he just nodded and said he hoped her mother would get well soon.
“We’ve been worried about you,” Trinity said.
“What do you mean?” asked Jason.
“Your last video wasn’t exactly encouraging,” she replied. “You looked rough. We were kind of afraid that you might not post anymore.”
“Oh, yeah, I guess I was kinda feeling down,” he said. “A bad day, you know, after what that marine told me. I just didn’t handle it well.”
Trinity nodded. “Don’t listen to him. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. What you’re doing… It’s inspiring. Please, don’t give up. You’ve got to finish your journey across the country. We can’t wait to see what you’ll do. My mom and I are rooting for you.”
Jason smiled. “Thanks. You don’t know how much that means to me right now. I really needed to hear that.” He pulled his backpack off his shoulders and unzipped the front pocket. He pulled out a laminated lilac, a white one, and passed it to Trinity. “Here, give this to your mom. Tell her I’m rooting for her too.”
&n
bsp; Trinity returned Jason’s smile and then hugged him again. “Thank you so much. She will love this.”
A voice came over the airport loudspeaker. “Now boarding flight 684 to Honolulu. Gate C-15.”
“That’s me,” said Jason, zipping up his pack and re-shouldering it. “So nice to meet you, Trinity.”
“You too,” she responded. “Good luck.”
Jason waved as he began to walk away, but Trinity called after him.
“When are you going to post again? We need an update after that last video.”
“As soon as I land in Hawaii. Look for it,” he replied and then turned and marched to gate C.
It was Wednesday evening, the night before Samantha, Charity, and Jessica were set to fly to Vegas for Charity’s bachelorette party weekend. As promised, Jessica had handled all the planning, keeping them to a very strict budget. She’d found all the clubs with cheap cover charges, as well as scrounging up some buy-one-get-one-free coupons for food at the hotel restaurants. To Charity’s dismay, which she’d expressed to Samantha and Jessica several times already, there were no strippers on the itinerary. “Too expensive,” was all Jessica had said, and she hadn’t budged on the issue.
Samantha had spent the evening working at the coffee shop. She still hadn’t packed her clothes for the trip. Honestly, she didn’t have much in the way of a Vegas-style wardrobe. The mound of donation clothes Charity and Jessica had created in her closet a month ago was still sitting there, and Charity had strictly forbidden her to bring anything along from that pile. But the rest of her clothes, those racy items left over from the “Derek must approve all wardrobe decisions” stage of her life, wouldn’t work either. Samantha just didn’t feel comfortable wearing them. Not only were they too revealing, they stirred up too many emotions. And despite Charity assuring her she was being irrational, she just couldn’t wear them out like they were ordinary garments. After all, look what happened when she’d worn the red top to Club Sprocket. Derek had shown up on her doorstep out of nowhere. Was it silly superstition? Yes, but that didn’t matter. Samantha wasn’t going to risk wearing something else Derek bought her ever again.
