Jon

He was running late.

Jon was making terrible time, even as he sped down the highway towards Elizebeth’s Haven.

There would be no time for a nap before the ferry. No time for sleep-deprivation hallucinations, or whatever had happened the week before.

He had to stay awake and alert. Not only did his life depend on it, but his livelihood did too.

As he saw the lights of the Crossroads gas station coming up, he could feel the band of tension across his chest loosening.

He desperately needed the gas, and he needed stimulants even more.

He pulled up between the two rows of pumps, got out and stuck a nozzle on either side of the truck. This was the only gas station he could use like this, and it was a hell of a convenience. Gassing up such a large truck took time, and this cut it in half.

Also, unlike half of the ancient gas stations on the island, he knew they’d have to total inside. So he left the truck pumping and went into the store.

As he neared the door, he scratched at his itching arm. It was raw, and the cuts themselves were red and seeping.

He was worried that the kid had something bad. Something he would not shake on his own.

One more big haul and he’d see the doctor. He’d promised his wife as much.

But something the doctor would not fix was the apprehension.

He’d never been an anxious man, but setting foot in that store gave him the creeps.

The electronic jingle he’d heard a hundred times now made him jump. Something he had to bear when he noticed the young lady standing at the counter, cell phone attached at the hip like everyone else her age.

“Good evening,” he said, nodding to her as he walked over to the coffee machine.

“Evening, Jon, how is the night going?”

He pulled a coffee cup from the stack and set it under the waiting nozzle.

“Not great, got a late start.”

The gritty drizzle of coffee filled the cup. Like most truck stop drinks, it would be terrible, but he found the coffee from this spot always kept him awake. As if it made up for taste with potency in equal but opposing measure.

“What happened, traffic?”

He looked over to see the girl grinning at him.

“No, the missus caught me at the door, we got talking and I lost track of time.”

He added a hefty portion of tasteless coffee whitener to his cup and four packets of sugar.

“I guess that happens. Nice to have someone who misses you, though I bet.”

If only it were that easy.

They’d been fighting more recently. She said he was moody, but he just wasn’t talking. Was that so bad? How can silence be aggressive? It didn’t make any sense to him, but he mumbled agreement and tried to be sympathetic. Less hollow.

“Yeah, it’s better to come home to, though,” Tom said, lying through gritted teeth.

He walked up to the counter and set the coffee down.

“Just the coffee and whatever is on the pumps.”

“157.94, then.”

“Fuck,” he said under his breath.

He hoped she hadn’t heard him, but that was almost everything in the chequing account, and Em was getting groceries today.

“On credit, please.”

That’s just what he needed, another reason to upset her.

On his way out today, she asked him what had changed.

He told her that his arm still hurt and admitted the whole thing had spooked him. He thought his vulnerability would bridge the gap but she said they hadn’t been right for longer than that. Not for a long time.

“Okay, Jon, you’re all set. Good luck out there.”

Jon nodded and turned to leave.

Em asked him if there was someone else, or if he just didn’t love her anymore.

Tom told her he wasn’t cheating, but maybe he shouldn’t have.

“Hey kid,” he said, turning to her, “you should find a new job. Working at night and sleeping through the day… it’s no way for a person to live.”

She nodded to him awkwardly, but he knew she didn’t understand.

If she stayed there for long though, she’d get it.

Their schedules never aligned. They tried for a while, tried to carry on and make time for dates. It was too hard. Or maybe they didn’t care enough. Either way, the romance dried up.

And when things are hard, most people withdraw. It’s just easier.

Jon removed the pumps and got back into his truck.

He should have just told his wife that he was cheating on her. Even if it meant she’d leave him.

As he signaled to pull back out onto the highway, he pushed down as much of the pain as he could. Trying to drown it in cheap gas station coffee and bury it under miles of highway.

Maybe one more lie was better than toeing the line.

It had to be better than the truth he was keeping from her.