Chapter 3
Tired of repeating himself, after Lily was unresponsive to his last question, Trent bites his lip, raises his voice and says, “I think he’s right. Dr. Cruzan said this getaway is going to be good for us, provided you can leave your work, along with your cell phone, in the car when we get there.”
The radio quietly plays some unidentifiable 1950’s country relic in the background as their Land Rover quickly exits the highway. Would it kill you to stop what you’re doing and actually listen to me for seconds? Almost oblivious to Trent’s existence in the car, Lily presses a few more keys on her Blackberry and drops it in her purse.
“Just stop. I hate how you think that my work doesn’t matter.”
“I never said that.”
“You do it all the time.”
“I just mean that you might actually get something out of this if you--”
Before Trent can finish, Lily interrupts him, “I know what you meant. Maybe it’s easy for someone who works at a third-rate bank, giving loans to grandmothers who want to sell their peanut brittle, but not me.”
A cold sweat slowly creeps down Trent’s back at Lily’s words. “Nice,” is all he can muster as his mouth fills with cotton. His eyes suddenly fill with blinding sunlight, causing Trent to veer off the road briefly before regaining control. Hardly noticing their brief off-roading excursion, Lily rolls back over on her side, trying to sleep away what’s left of this dreadful journey.
A small part of him wishes he had lost control of the Land Rover, knowing that Lily hardly ever wore her seat-belt. Maybe if “the tank”—-a nickname that he gave to Lily’s luxury SUV immediately after driving it off of the dealership’s lot-—had flipped, he wouldn’t have to worry about trying so hard this weekend on making their relationship better. Trent never used to think about things like this, but one can only take so much verbal abuse and abandonment before the thoughts start to creep into his head.
----
Thirty minutes pass by before Trent tries to spark possibly another disastrous conversation. He rubs his eyes, stretches while steering the car with his knee, and then yawns dramatically, hoping to catch Lily’s interest, praying that what he says next won’t fall on deaf ears.
“You know, I’m up for a promotion next month.”
Lily’s chest slowly rises and falls, but her gentle purr isn’t present, making Trent believe that she isn’t asleep, but rather ignoring anything that leaves his mouth. He tries not to let it bother him as he continues. “Mr. Robinson said I was a shoe-in as bank manager for the new branch opening up next month up in Freedom.”
Pushing out her last breath in palpable frustration, as if she had just opened a cryogenic freezer, Lily cranks her seat upright. It’s obvious to Trent that she’s more than just a little pissed, but at this point in the trip, he doesn’t mind.
“What, so you can work another ten hours on top of the fifty you’re already putting in at the bank? I don’t think so.”
Her remarks are like fingernails on a chalkboard. Grinding his teeth, Trent swallows hard and wonders if he should switch from using the shovel he’s been using this entire journey or just go right ahead and use the back hoe.
“I’m just trying to support our family, Lil.” Yep, the back hoe it is.
“Well, you better pray it’s for a VP spot, because that’s the only way you’re going to make enough money to support us.” Lily’s words are quick and decisive. There she goes again, using that tongue of hers like a scalpel, trying her best to remove his heart. How could she come back at him so quickly and so coldly, as if what he said meant nothing at all to her?
More words, possibly better words, sit at the tip of his tongue, but all that he can force out is, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you want me to quit my job, play house wife and get knocked up, then you’re going to need to earn a hell of a lot more than what you’re pulling down now, because your salary won’t even cover half of our mortgage on the condo.”
Another quick-fire answer and she didn’t even have to pause to reload first. Trent wished he could be as quick on his toes as Lily, but he knew it wasn’t his game. He felt that if Lily hadn’t stayed to run her father’s foundation, she would have made a brilliant trial lawyer. Winning an argument with her meant pulling an all-nighter doing research at the library. Needless-to-say, Trent became accustomed to losing.
“So… we’ll move.” Ping! Another shot from Trent’s BB gun fires, but fails to pierce Lily’s armor.
“Not on your life. There’s no way I’m giving up something that means the world to me.”
Biting his lip, Trent’s eyes start to water, but he successfully holds back the tears. He wondered which part of her life meant more to Lily: their condo or her lifestyle. Unfortunately either one wasn’t him and just like that, he was starting to lose faith that this excursion would repair any part of the irrevocable disaster that was their marriage.
Chapter 4
With the fuel gauge teetering closely towards the E, Trent pulls their Land Rover into the next gas station he sees. A cool breeze helps push his door open as Trent get out of the vehicle. He stretches, twisting at his waist and pulling his arms back; his shoulders popping, sounding like they might dislocate, if only it didn’t feel so good.
At first glance, the gas station looks as if it had been recently transplanted from 1954. Upon further examination, Lily notices a thin film of dirt and grime covering every surface exposed to the elements and decides to stay planted in her seat. Breathing in the fresh air around him, Trent feels reinvigorated already. The sun shines warmly on his back, like a fresh shirt recently removed from the dryer; just enough so he doesn't feel the need to grab his jacket from the back seat. He leans down before shutting the door and asks, “You need anything?”
“I’m fine,” Lily’s response is still icy after their last conversation.
“What can I do ya for?”
Jumping back and slightly startled, Trent looks up and sees the gas station attendant, scratching his dandruff-laden head which is temporarily blocking out the sun. Filling his well-worn overalls is a physique that probably feasts on a steady diet of fried foods and light beer.
Completely covered in the attendant’s shadow, Trent say, “Uh… fill her up.”
“Sure thing.”
And with that, the attendant reaches over and places the nozzle in the tank. The pump starts to tick as he proceeds to wash the windshield. With every new breath of fresh air, Trent slowly meanders away from their car, forgetting about the last four grueling hours. By the time he reaches the end of the concrete lot, kicking a small rock across the road, Trent can hardly remember what he was arguing about with Lily in the first place.
As the gas attendant slowly squeegees the sudsy water that clings to the glass, the passenger side door opens forcefully. Lily exits the vehicle and asks, “Bathrooms?”
Unaffected by Lily’s curt rudeness, still focused on cleaning the windshield, he mumbles, “Inside. Towards the back by the fountain drinks.”
Trent turns around and sees Lily dashing towards the store. Hardly raising his voice, Trent says, “Lily? You okay?” His tone shows concern, but not much.
Lily covers her mouth with one hand while briskly swinging the door open with the other, disappearing inside.
Without even the slightest interruption in his work, the gas attendant moves on to the other windows and mumbles, “Bathroom.”
“Oh.” Trent heads back towards the vehicle as the handle clicks off. The attendant swiftly pops the nozzle back onto the pump and pauses for a moment as he tallies up the total.
“That’ll be forty-two seventy-five.”
Digging into his wallet, Trent pulls out a fifty. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you, sir. Want me to check under the hood, top off your fluids?”
“Yeah, sure.”
The hood creaks as it’s quickly opened by the gas attendant, easily lifting it up over his head. Squeezing, pinching and pulling, his hands rapidly move about the vehicle’s entire motor cavity, almost as if he’s trying to play a tune on an instrument that only he knows. Looking back at the store front, Trent watches for Lily’s exit. No sign of her yet.
“So, you folks just passin’ through?”
“Huh?”
“Asked if you folks are just passin’ through?”
Pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, Trent turns and says, “Actually, were headed up here. I couldn't locate it on my GPS.”
“You’re all good here, mister.” The hood slams down in a hurry as the gas attendant grabs an oil-stained handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his brow. He takes the piece of paper from Trent's fingers and looks at it closely. He hands Trent back his slip of paper, blowing his nose into the rag and then briskly stuffing it into his pocket.
“Why you headed up there?”
A slight tone of concern is laced in his voice, causing Trent's hair to stand up on his neck. He nervously folds the piece of paper in his hands until resembling the size of a small piece of chewing gum, burying the paper, and his gut reaction, into his pocket. Extracting the car keys from the same pocket, he begins to caress them, wondering what might be keeping Lily.
“The wife and I are headed up there for a retreat.” The words hesitantly pour out of Trent's mouth, as if suddenly concerned to give this complete stranger as little information as possible about their trip.
“That's Dr. Cruzan's place.”
The gas attendant's acknowledgment of their final destination only bothers him even more. Backing up, Trent stammers, “Yeah... yeah... Dr. Cruzan. You know him?”
Uneasiness settles down deep in Trent's stomach as he slowly makes his way over to the driver's side door. Following closely is the gas attendant, who looks like he still has more to say.
“Cruzan's bad news, fella. I'd stay away from him if I was you.”
Fumbling with door handle, Trent asks, “Why do you say that?”
“Look, I don't have the time to go into all of the details. Cruzan isn't--,” He pauses, looking over his shoulder towards the store front. Standing outside, sucking down the remains of a Marlboro Red is his boss, the station owner. Suddenly the gas attendant squats down to the ground, pulling out his tire gauge. As he places it on the valve of the front passenger’s side tire, gesturing to Trent to come and get a closer look.
Trent resists at first, but decides that he's already gone this far, so why not continue this strange encounter with the Gomer Plye-like gas jockey. The best thing out of all of this might be a really good story to tell his friends back at the bank on Monday morning. The worse… well, he really didn’t want to think about that. The man continues to check the tire while resuming their conversation.
“Cruzan isn't-- well, he just isn't who you think he is.” Shuffling to the next tire, he goes on, “Look, another couple was here, maybe thirty minutes ago. Filled up and promptly asked where Dr. Cruzan's cabin was. These two were super gung ho. Couldn't talk them out of going there, even if they knew they were headed straight for the gates of hell.”
Trent can't resist and interjects, “Are they the headed straight for the gates of hell?”
“No,” he replies in a matter-of-fact voice, with just a touch of frustration. “You, on the other hand, look like you got a smart head on your shoulders. Why don't you take your pretty wife, turn your car around, and go home.”
As the gas attendant stands, he comes face-to-face with his boss. Clearing his throat, he clams up and proceeds to inspect the next tire on the other side.
“Is everything thing alright here, sir?” The owner's voice projects a wheezing nasally tone as he crushes the cigarette under his work boot. Standing up, Trent looks at the owner, trying not to gag on his horrible bad breath before saying, “Just fine, thanks.”
They stand there momentarily, staring at each other as the gas attendant finishes checking the last tire. The station owner breaks first as he looks away, abruptly turning back towards the store.
Standing back up, the attendant brushes off his knees and says, “Anyhow, that cabin ain't too far from here. Take a right, just over the hill. Two, maybe three miles tops. Can't miss it.”
Feeling slightly concerned, Trent asks the attendant, “Is everything alright?”
“Yep.”
“Are you sure?”
“Look, they're all on to me, so I really can't say anymore.” Rubbing the back of his head, he starts to head back towards the garage as he crosses paths with Lily.
“Ready?” asks Lily as she opens the passenger door.
Slightly confused, wanting more information from this strange, yet awkward gas attendant, Trent opens his door but doesn't move. “Um... thanks for all your help.”
“No problem. Just be careful. Mountain lions have been known to kill people up there.”
“I'll be sure to do that.”
Uncertainty drowns out any reason that might be going to through Trent's head. He continues to stand there for another moment staring at the gas attendant, but he doesn't look back. With one fluid motion, Trent climbs inside and turns the engine over. The gas attendant slowly makes his way back into the garage, swallowed up by the shadows as Trent and Lily's Land Rover quickly ascends up a small hill, disappearing behind it shortly after.
