Charity plopped down on the couch next to Brent and handed him a glass of white wine and kept one for herself. He munched on popcorn as he watched a pregame show about the playoff basketball game that was about to start. She threw a blanket over both of them, snuggled up against his warm chest, and pulled out her phone to play on social media.
Images of the previous evening replayed in her mind. She and her two friends had had a great time. Unlike Jessica and Samantha, Charity had decided to take it slow after they left the restaurant. She loved having fun as much as the next girl, and had rarely met anyone she couldn’t outdrink if she set her mind to it, but she knew how dangerous it could be to lose one’s faculties in a place like Club Sprocket. Most everyone in there was just like them, young people looking to have some fun. But three inebriated young women could be easy prey for someone with nefarious motives. Someone had to keep a level head. It was clear when they arrived that Jessica wasn’t going to slow down, and Samantha, in Charity’s opinion, didn’t need to slow down. It was the first time in months she’d actually heard Samantha open up about what was going on with her and Derek. The girl needed to heal in a big way. If it took a bit of liquid courage to get that healing process started, then so be it. For a little while, it almost felt like Charity had her old friend back again.
Charity was delighted she and Jessica had begun to hit it off. No would could ever replace Sam as Charity’s best friend; they’d known each other too long and been through too much together. But when Samantha was trapped in Derek hell for almost four years, the girl was basically MIA. Getting her to do anything fun was like pulling teeth. Every time Charity invited her to go shopping or to a movie, she’d come up with some excuse, no matter how lame. It was always, “Oh, Derek has a family reunion,” or “We just want to stay in tonight,” or blah, blah, blah. The truth was, Derek flat-out refused to do anything with Charity or anyone else in Samantha’s life. So, going out on a double date was simply out of the question, not that Charity could have stood to be around the man for longer than five minutes anyway. But she would’ve tried for Sam’s sake. And on the rare—very rare—occasions that Derek did let Sam go out without him, he’d get so jealous he’d spend the rest of the night after she returned giving her the third degree. At some point, having outside friendships just wasn’t worth it for Samantha.
Because of Sam’s absence, Charity had a void in her life. She needed another girlfriend in a big way. So, when Charity went to work for Caldwell and met Jessica, a woman her own age, it was no surprise the two quickly hit it off. They were like a pair of young, twentysomething lighthouses in a sea of post-menopausal cubicle drones. Neither had any idea how to make lemon squares, what the best slow-cooker recipes were, or who was the best chiropractor in town. It was a marriage of necessity, really. The both looked forward to noon when they could run off across the road to the sandwich shop, relax, eat salads, and gossip about the hot new guy in the mailroom or how Brenda’s stylist had turned her hair blue.
But even as close as she and Jessica had become, Charity still missed Samantha terribly. When Derek ran out, Charity was hopeful she’d soon have her best friend back. But it wasn’t to be. If anything, it was even harder now to drag Samantha out of her apartment, even if Sam could find the time between her two jobs. The girl was a shell of her former self.
Charity and Brent had started making definite plans for their wedding, and Charity was the happiest she’d ever been in her life. She was extremely busy but she had purpose. Charity worked at Caldwell Insurance during the day, took evening and online classes at night as she worked on her business management degree, and spent weekends with Brent. The only thing missing was her best friend.
Much like Samantha, Charity had not had the best home life, which is probably why the two girls got on so well during high school. After graduation, Charity didn’t want to go into a mountain of debt to start school, so she went to work and attended school part-time. It meant finishing her degree in six years instead of four, but if it kept her free from a quagmire of student loan debt, that was fine with her. Unfortunately, Brent’s loans from law school would be more than enough to take up the slack. Working and going to school at the same time just wasn’t an option for him. He had a clerkship at small firm, but it was only a few hours a week and paid virtually nothing.
When Brent wasn’t at class, he spent almost every waking moment studying as he slogged through his second year. He was everything she could ever hope for in a future husband. Brent was smart, funny, and devilishly handsome, with wavy sandy-brown hair and sharp blue-green eyes. And he treated her like a princess, which was really all that mattered. Having this lazy Sunday afternoon to simply relax with her fiancé was exceedingly rare, and Charity was soaking up the good vibes. She might have been asleep in his arms within a few minutes if he hadn’t decided to strike up a conversation out of the blue.
“Babe,” he said to her as he turned down the volume on the television.
“Yeah?” Charity replied, a hint of surprise in her voice. The game was just about to start, so the fact that Brent was taking a minute to initiate conversation was a bit of a surprise. He was a man of few words at the best of times, but he definitely wouldn’t pause a basketball game just to chitchat.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Uh-oh.”
“It’s been six months since we postponed our wedding.”
“Yeah…” Charity could already see where he was headed.
“Don’t you think it’s about time we reset the date?”
Charity drew in a deep breath, pondering the question before she answered. “You know that I cannot wait to marry you, right?” she asked.
“So you say,” he replied.
“C’mon,” she said. “I can’t wait to become Mrs. Charity Smith. It’s just that—”
“I’m just messing with you. I know why you postponed it the first time,” he interrupted. “I completely understand it wouldn’t have been right trying to plan a wedding with your maid of honor going through all the hell she went through. But now I think it’s time. I love Sam just as much as anybody. I totally respect you for what you did, but at some point, we have to live our own lives. There’s only so much you can do for her. She got dealt a crappy hand. There’s no doubt about that. But, at some point, she’s got to stand on her own two feet and be her own woman. You can’t make every decision in our lives just to avoid causing her pain.”
“I know, I know. You’re completely right. It is time. This engagement has gone on too long already. I’m ready to be your wife.”
“And I’m ready to be your husband. I’m ready to brush our teeth together every night before bed. I’m ready to wake up and see your smiling face every morning.”
“You know I don’t smile in the morning,” she replied deadpan.
“It’s a figure of speech. You know what I mean.”
“I do, and believe it or not, I think it might be fine on Samantha’s end too.”
“How so?” he asked.
“She seems to be in a good place right now. I think she’s finally starting to get over Derek.”
“Really?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, you should have seen her last night. She almost looked like her old self again.”
“That’s great.”
Charity sat up. “It is. I think she’s finally turned a corner. Things aren’t totally peachy. She’s still working two jobs and flat broke, but I think maybe she can see the world isn’t going to end just because that loser is gone.”
“Excellent,” said Brent, turning back up the TV and relaxing back into the cushions.
Charity just shook her head and inwardly smiled. That was so Brent. The man took being task-oriented to a new level. She could almost see the day’s invisible to-do list in his mind. Eat breakfast. Check. Study one hour. Check. Talk to Charity about our marriage. Check. The rest of the list would say: Watch one basketball game; Study two more hours; Go to gym for a one-hour workout; Eat dinner; Read a magazine; Make love to Charity; Drop into a comatose-like sleep. The following week would contain similarly scheduled days, and anything that disrupted the schedule would throw the man all out of sorts. Charity loved his discipline and dedication, but sometimes his lack of spontaneity could be a bit infuriating. But then, that’s why they fit. She was his wild card in a perfect hand. She kept him on his toes and he kept her feet on the ground when she wanted to get carried away in the clouds. They were a good match.
“Want me to go dig out the binder and start making some plans?”
“Sure, babe,” Brent said, not taking his eyes off the screen.
He’d already moved on to the next task on his list. Getting him to return to the subject of their wedding would be next to impossible now. Charity inwardly cursed herself. She knew she had missed a golden opportunity to make some serious progress on their wedding plans. Now she’d have to find a way to get herself penciled back in on his schedule. But she had a secret weapon: the next-to-last item on the list. Before the nightly festivities started, she’d have his undivided attention. At that point, he’d agree to whatever she wanted just to shut her up and get her naked.
‘You want the hottest band in town to play at our wedding?’
‘Sure, babe, no problem.’
‘Oh, you want the most expensive photographer money can buy?’
‘Whatever, babe, it’s your special day.’
Charity chuckled to herself and snuggled back down against his chest.
Just then, her phone buzzed and she looked down at it. The notification showed a new video from “Jason’s Lost his Mind—North American Tour,” which he’d now officially named his video channel. When the man popped up on the screen, he looked much better than when she’d seen him last time. He still had his hat on, but it wasn’t pulled down so low over his eyes. Though his face was still a bit haggard, some of the color had returned.
“What’s this?” asked Brent, snapping out of his basketball haze and looking at Charity’s screen.
“This guy’s wife and kids died,” she said. “Now he’s touring the country to honor their memory. And just for the record, after we’re married, if I die, you better be just as torn up as this guy.”
“Babe, if you died, I’d kill myself, so you don’t have to worry about that. We’d be together no matter what.”
“Good answer,” she said, hitting the play button.
Jason began to speak. “Hello, America. Sorry about the earlier video. I was looking a bit rough, I know. But I’m back in the saddle now, baby. Wanted to show you what I’ve been working on.”
He turned the camera over to reveal a large map of the United States spread out over the small dining room table of the RV. It hung off the table at the edges. At the top, in a relatively blank area of the Canadian border, a small wallet-sized picture of Bethany, Hannah, and Chloe was taped to the map. There was a black line drawn in marker beginning from a point in central Arkansas, running west through several states. Jason moved his finger across the map, following the line with his finger and giving a running commentary on his plans as he did so, noting how he would find a place to park his RV in California and Washington and then fly to Hawaii and Alaska when the time came. After he’d traced his way through forty-eight states, Jason followed the line as it moved from Mississippi into Louisiana where it then stopped somewhere above New Orleans.
“There you have it, America,” he said when he’d traced the route all the way back around to New Orleans. “That’s my plan for right now. Nothing set in stone. That’s the beauty of having no job and no family, I guess. I can change my plans whenever I want. I can go wherever I want. I can do whatever I want.”
Charity saw some of the sadness from the earlier videos creep back into his eyes, but he shook it away.
“If I stick to this route, I shouldn’t have to backtrack too much, and I can get most of the trip done over the summer. Now, there is one key thing I need to tell you about this trip. I already know there are going to be some bad emotional parts along the route that are really going to test my resolve. I’ve been dreading this part, but one of these places is coming up quickly so there’s no getting around it. During the tough times, I’m really going to need your help. I need you guys to flood the comments section for me. Keep me going. It’d really mean a lot to me.
“The first bad spot is Las Vegas. Bethany and I took a trip there about a year after we were married. It was a long weekend, just the two of us, before the girls were born. We had a blast and Bethany absolutely loved it. She doesn’t even gamble but she loved all the sights and sounds, the lights and shows. Right before the accident, we’d been talking about going back. I’d even priced some plane tickets and hotels, but we hadn’t settled on a weekend. Visiting without her now, that’s going to be tough. And, uh, if I’m not much mistaken, I should be there around our wedding anniversary. I could alter the trip, I guess, to avoid that, but I won’t. I think there must be some kind of cosmic reason I’ll be there during our anniversary.”
The familiar tears welled up in Jason’s eyes, but he kept on going.
“I’ll kinda tell you guys when I’m coming up on a bad spot. Florida will certainly be one. That’s where we took our honeymoon. And finally…” Jason paused. “And finally … well, there’s a reason I saved Louisiana for last. I’ll just leave it at that for now.” He clenched his jaw and shook his head.
“But here’s another way you all can help me right now. I’m going into Texas next. Bethany and I had been to Texas many times. We both have family there. I debated stopping in to see some of them, but I’ve decided against it. I don’t want to explain what I’m doing at this point. It’s kind of strange, really. I’m putting these videos on the internet for the entire world to see, and that doesn’t bother me. But the thought of facing someone I know right now, a friend or family member, just terrifies me. It’s like I kind of need to put our old life behind me. Everything we were together, the people we knew, all our hopes and dreams. I know I’m rambling right now and none of that makes any sense.
“Anyway, back to how you can help. I’ve got two choices now. I’m going to end up in New Mexico, but how I get there is still to be determined. I can keep going west, straight through the panhandle of Texas and on to Albuquerque, New Mexico, or I can go south from here into Austin and San Antonio, and then turn west, which will put me in El Paso. I’m going to let you guys decide. Bethany and I went to Austin and San Antonio many times, and they’re both great cities. We loved them, but neither of us had any strong ties to them. So, if you send me down there, I’ll have a great time, I’m sure, eat a ton of BBQ, probably go hit up some hot spots in downtown Austin, and I’ll definitely stop by the Alamo, of course. I’ve never been to El Paso before so I have no clue what I’d do there, and the same goes for Albuquerque. So that’s really the choice you have to make for me, America. Where do you want me to go? Albuquerque or El Paso? I’m posting the poll down below, so make your voice heard. Tomorrow morning, wherever you guys say to go, that’s where I’ll go. Until tomorrow, I’ll see you on the open road.”
The image on the screen froze as the video stopped. “Wait a second,” said Brent, now ignoring the basketball game. “So, this guy’s wife and kids died and now he’s driving an RV across America to all fifty states to honor their memory?”
“Yep,” Charity replied. “Quit his job and left his dog with his brother.”
“Wow,” said Brent. “How did they die?”
“Tractor trailer accident.”
“Damn,” said Brent. “That sucks. Gotta give the man some credit. That takes some stones.”
“What do you mean?” Charity asked.
“Just dropping everything like that and taking off. I can see where he’s coming from. It’s inspirational in a way.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was only half-kidding earlier when I said I’d kill myself if something ever happened to you,” Brent said. “I can’t even guess what I’d do if I didn’t have you in my life. Telling the world to go pound sand and taking off across America? Well, that seems about as good a plan as any that I could think of.”
“It’s certainly romantic,” said Charity.
“I don’t know about that,” Brent said. “It’s damned desperate is what it is. The man’s on the edge. Anyone can see that. Which is just how any man worth his salt is supposed to feel if he loses the woman he loves. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next video is him driving himself off a cliff in that RV or crashing it into a school bus without his seatbelt on.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Charity said, taken aback. She was shocked at Brent’s words. Her fiancé wasn’t really one to speak about his emotions. If he said he loved you, he meant it. If anything changed, he’d let you know. He rarely got overly emotional about anything. Now she was getting a rare glimpse into a softer side of Brent that he usually kept well hidden. Apparently, Jason’s video had stirred something within her fiancé.
“Ha,” Brent replied. “You have no idea what he’ll do. You mark my words, little girl. This guy is going to get a whole lot worse before he gets better—if he gets better.”
“Don’t call me little girl, you know I hate that.”
“Yes, I know, which is exactly why I do it.”
He grinned and placed a kiss upon her cheek. She loved that grin. If he kept this up, the next-to-last item on that mental to-do list was going to happen right now.
“More wine?” Charity asked. Without waiting for him to answer, she hopped up, put her phone in her back pocket, grabbed their glasses, and sauntered into the kitchen. She turned to make sure he noticed her backside swaying as she walked away. He didn’t disappoint. She grabbed the bottle and pulled the replacement cork. She’d just filled one glass and was about to pour the second when she felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. Charity pulled it out and saw a text message from Samantha.
Back in the living room, Brent heard the sound of breaking glass and his fiancé yell out an f-bomb. He jumped up and ran into the kitchen where he saw her holding the top half of a bottle of wine. The bottom of half lay shattered across the kitchen counter where she’d smashed it. White wine was splattered everywhere. In her other hand, Charity held her phone. Both hands were shaking.
“What the hell?” Brent asked.
Charity looked up at him, and there was fury in her eyes. “Derek is back.”