Crimson Highway by David Wickenhauser (brene brown rising strong TXT) 📗

waiting for him. She still hadn’t come out, so he went into the men’s.

When he came out, she still wasn’t in sight, so he dawdled around the store aisles, looking once again at the same things that he’d seen in hundreds of other truck stop stores.

He checked his cell phone clock, and discovered that it had been over a half hour.

That’s long enough. He walked toward the women’s restroom.

“Excuse me ma’am,” he said to a matronly looking lady who was getting ready to go through the door, “can you check and see if there is a young, blonde girl in there? She went in about a half an hour ago, and I need to know if she is alright.”

The lady nodded, and disappeared through the doorway. She came out momentarily, and announced that there was nobody in the restroom.

“Are you sure? A young, pretty, blonde girl?”

“Quite sure,” the lady said. “There is nobody in there.”

Confused, Hugh went back to the store area, and walked all around. He thought she might have stopped at the sub shop, or had gotten in line to buy chips and a drink, or something.

He approached a grizzled old driver who was standing in line. “Have you seen a pretty, young blonde girl in the store here?” he asked him.

“No, buddy. But if you’ve got an extra one I’d sure be interested,” the old driver answered with a leer.

Disgusted, Hugh turned to the girl behind the counter. Before he could ask her the same question, she said, “I saw her. She was standing right around the corner from where you were talking on the phone. Something caught her attention on a clothes rack, I think.”

“So, where is she now?”

“I don’t know,” the girl replied, “she all of a sudden got real agitated, stood there for a minute, and then bolted out of the store like she was in a real big hurry to go somewhere.”

“What did she look like when she was leaving?” Hugh asked, grasping to understand what had happened.

“Well, all I can say is she was extremely red in the face, and looked like she needed to go somewhere to cry her eyes out. What do you suppose that was all about?” the clerk asked Hugh.

Hugh thought he might have an idea, and cursed himself for not being more careful when he was talking to James.

He bolted out of the store himself, sure that he’d find Jenny at the truck, and hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to explain himself to her.

She was not there. He walked the whole truck stop, down every lane, looked between every truck, and then did it again. Then he remembered his cell phone, and took it out to call her. But, then he just stared at it, not knowing what number to dial.

What a fool! he hollered in his mind, as he realized that he had never thought to get the phone number of the phone that Jenny carried around. He angrily stomped back to his truck hoping, but not believing, that she might be sitting on the running board, having cried her eyes out, and was now willing to hear Hugh’s explanation and apology.

“Jenny, I …,” he started, as he came up to the truck, but stopped himself when he realized that she wasn’t there.

Completely dejected, and hating himself for being so careless on the phone, he climbed back into his truck, and sat in the driver’s seat, hoping and praying that he might see her walking out of the dark shadows, and coming back to the truck.

After a couple of hours of this, he told himself to give it up, and absently, almost like an automaton, threw something into the microwave to eat. He decided against moving on to the drop yard, thinking that he wanted to be here when … if … Jenny decided to come back.

With his thoughts only of Jenny, and the torments that she must be going through right now, wherever she was, Hugh climbed into his bunk for the night.

He thought back to their stormy relationship, and how much trouble she had brought him. But, he also remembered the good times with her, and realized how much he actually cared for her.

His last thoughts before dropping off into a fitful sleep were about Jenny, about how quiet and lonely his little “home” was, and about how much he missed her.

I’m never going to see her again, and it's my fault, was his last conscious, painful thought.

Chapter Sixteen

The morning dawned bright and early. Hugh had forgotten to draw his curtains for the night, so the first breaking rays of the sun had gotten him up earlier than usual.

His first thought was to quietly slip out of the truck to go into the truck plaza to get a surprise breakfast for Jenny and him. Then the reality of what had happened the previous night hit him, and he fell back to his bunk.

OK, I’ve got to get myself together. I’ve got a job to do that I’ve been doing alone for the past fifteen years, so I need to just get on with it. She’s not coming back, so I need to get on with my life.

That little speech to himself finished, Hugh went through the motions of preparing himself and his truck for one more day of driving.

As usual, once he had cranked the engine, had heard that satisfying diesel rumble, had slipped it into gear, and had gotten onto the highway, he had begun to feel much better.

There’s just nothing like the therapy of sitting behind the wheel of a Freightliner truck to make a guy feel better, he told himself—almost half believing it this time.

Hugh planned his day in his mind. His delivery was due in Tracy about 2 pm, but he was often able