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Ben opened the door to the caravan and crept inside to find it in darkness. He pulled his damp clothes off and used Jo’s towel to dry himself, taking the time to sober up and focus his mind. He felt his way across the unfamiliar terrain of the caravan’s interior and found the bedclothes. He pulled them back and lay there quietly in the dark, now aware that Jo was awake, though perfectly still.
“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.
“No,” said Jo. “I was acting up again today. I’m sorry.”
Jo sat up and switched on the bedside lamp. Her cheeks were puffy and wet with tears.
“I'm sorry I made you like this,” she said. “If I could take back what I did to you, then I would. But I can’t, Ben.”
He leaned in closer and wiped a fresh tear away.
“Don’t cry, baby, please.”
“Why can’t we just let ourselves be happy?” she said.
Ben took both her hands in his and held them tightly.
“You didn't make me like this. I was already so fucked up when we met, but you still saw something in me worth the risk. I was the one that dragged you into my world, my fears. And I was the one that pushed you into what happened. When I'm calm and lucid I see that, and I know that you still love me.”
The two lovers stared at each other.
“I'm nothing without you Jo. If I ever lost you...”
Ben's face darkened at the very thought of this. It wasn't a line. He knew, despite all that they'd been through, he’d be damned without her by his side.
“I’ll do anything to make this work,” he said. “Fuck the jealousy. Fuck the drinking. Fuck the past. It’s all gone, as of now. New slate, new us.”
“You promise?”
“I promise. In fact...”
Ben straightened up and released the sliver chain and cross from around his neck.
“Let’s make this a proper pact. I hereby promise to stop being stupid and jealous all the time. And you get this as security on my word...”
Ben draped the cross around Jo’s neck and fastened it. He then unhooked her surfboard pendant dangling there and tied it around his own neck.
Straight swap.
“And I’ll take this as a token that you promise to keep on loving me, and never leave me. Deal?”
“Mmm. Suits you.”
“Cheeky bitch. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Come here.”
Ben drew Jo in close for a kiss, but at the last minute she resisted him and pulled back.
“You mean it this time?” she whispered.
“I swear on my life,” he said.
Satisfied, Jo leant in and they sealed the deal, sharing a deep, but tender kiss. Ben stretched across the bed and turned out the light, failing to notice Irma’s mask of pale make-up in the darkness outside their window.
*
Bright sunlight gradually edged its way up over Ben and Jo’s faces to warm their skin and sting their eyes. Ben squinted and rolled over, instinctively burying his face in the pillow. Jo lazily shielded her eyes with her hand, then slowly opened them. She took a moment to let her pupils adjust to the sun’s glare, then sat up.
“My God,” she said. “The sun’s actually shining. This has got to be a good sign.”
“Shhh,” said Ben, his face still deep in the pillow. “My head.”
Jo frowned at the back of his head for a moment, before thumping him with her own pillow.”
*
Irma’s face, still covered in last night’s dried layer of cracked foundation and eye make-up, pressed up against the office window. Her wide eyes tracked Ben as he followed Jo through the trailer park gate and out on to the road.
Ben groaned as they made heavy work of the uphill walk into Sweetwater.
“We’ll get you a bottle of water in town baby,” said Jo. “Serves you right though, you know.”
Ben flashed her a dirty look, but he couldn’t maintain it. The steep incline, heat and hangover were combining to really take it out of him. Jo sighed and dropped a few steps behind him to rub the back of his neck.
*
Ben stared at the space where his beloved Camper van used to be. The cannibalized shell that now sat in Lonesome's workshop bore no resemblance to the vehicle they were driving two days ago. Jo continued to rub his back in soothing, circular motions in an attempt to keep his rising temper at bay. Lonesome was oblivious to their obvious stress. He mumbled something mechanical and in depth that Ben didn’t catch properly, because the older man slurped on a toffee as he talked, constantly circling around the van, brandishing one stripped part, then another. Ben’s eyes roamed across the vast array of extracted components scattered over the workshop floor. His gaze finally settled on a pair of brand-new, expensive-looking Nike trainers that Lonesome was wearing. Somehow Ben didn’t think they went with the greasy overalls that hadn’t been changed since the first time they met him. Ben looked up from his thoughts to see Lonesome’s face right in front of him.
“...Quite a bit longer,” said the mechanic.
“What?” said Ben, slightly dazed.
“I said, as you can see, it's going to take a bit longer.”
“How much longer?”
“Well now, it would take me the rest of today and all of tomorrow just to put it back together again, wouldn’t it? So, I reckon we’re talking two days minimum. More like three.”
“And tell me again,” said Ben. “Why you dismantled our Camper van?”
“Well, I haven’t worked on this model before. I need to see what makes her tick before I go diving in there, don't I?”
Ben rubbed his face and turned away in frustration, as Lonesome began to weigh up two different sized oil pumps in his hands.
“So, listen, Lonesome,” said Jo. “Three days tops for our van back, in one piece, and the original damage repaired. Right?”
Lonesome didn't look up, he was still distracted by the oil pumps.
“Yeah, sure.”
“And how much is that going to cost us?” said Jo.
Lonesome finally raised his head and looked her in the eye.
“Does it matter?” he said. “It’s not like you’ve got anywhere else to go now, is it?”
Ben sighed in frustration and limped out of the workshop before his temper got the better of him. Jo and Lonesome stared at each other a while longer. The mechanic didn’t give an inch. So that's how it is, thought Jo. She finally turned and followed Ben out.
Ben rolled a cigarette and lit it, as they strolled back towards Sweetwater in silence. He took long drags and looked at the high street up ahead. The sunshine did nothing to improve the appearance of the town. If anything, the bright daylight only served to further highlight the many cracks visible in the tumbledown row of failed businesses and derelict guesthouses. He exhaled more smoke with a sigh.
“Three more days in Eerie Indiana,” said Jo.
Ben grumbled something under his breath.
“Hey,” she continued. “You know we’ll probably look back on this as the funniest part of the trip.”
“Really?”
“Well maybe the bit we tell the most stories about anyway.”
Ben’s droll, hungover expression was an unimpressed photo-fit of Bob Mitchum and Bill Murray. A cigarette hung from his tired features to labour the point.
“Seriously, I bet you,” said Jo.
Ben stared at her for a moment, thought about replying, but then thought better of it.
They walked on and soon reached Olander’s general store. Olander’s dust covered shop window was plastered with faded trade cards and handwritten notes and adverts. Most of the dated ads showed property for sale. Ben peered in through a clear section of glass, cupping his hand against his own reflection.
“Looks like we’ve got a live one,” he said. “Well, almost.”
They pushed through the front door, triggering the quaint tinkle of an old shop bell. Inside, the slight old lady who had crossed their path in town the day before was sitting behind a cash register at the counter. She looked up over her reading glasses from her TV guide and smiled at Jo. Her expression changed to a cold, mistrusting glare when she saw Ben. He nodded a greeting anyway, then quickly stepped behind the rows of tinned goods to escape her gaze. Jo ran her fingers across the tins, wiping a trail in the thick layer of dust that seemed to cover everything in the store. Ben looked around, but he couldn't find any fresh produce; everything here was tinned and prepackaged, and all of the labels on the goods were faded and out of date.
“Still hungry?” whispered Jo.
Ben looked over the top of the shelves to see Mrs. Olander still staring at him. For a moment, he imagined the old woman might have heard Jo’s comment, and he flushed red beneath her gaze. Jo carefully selected the two best looking tins of tomatoes, a bag of papyrus-like pasta and some kind of vague tinned meat. She looked at Ben for approval, but he just shrugged. Jo approached the counter with the goods, followed reluctantly by Ben.
“Hi,” said Jo.
“Hello dear,” said Mrs. Olander, sounding softer than she looked. “Are you enjoying your stay?”
“Yes thanks, it’s delightful.”
Ben looked down at the shop counter. The TV guide she’d been reading was more than two years out of date. Somehow he wasn't surprised.
“Have you been over to see my Billy yet?”
“No,” said Jo, unsure who Billy was supposed to be.
“Billy’s my son,” said Mrs. Olander. “He runs all the local fishing trips. They’re very reasonable.”
“Sounds great,” said Jo.
Mrs. Olander slid off her chair and tottered around the counter, taking off her apron. Ben shot Jo a concerned look, wondering where this was going.
“Now let me see,” said the old woman. “Yes, you're in luck, he’s not busy today, I reckon he can fit you in.”
“Hang on a minute,” said Ben.
“Come on,” said Mrs. Olander, ignoring him. “I’ll drive you both over there now.”
The old lady moved quickly for her age and was at the door before they knew what was happening. She turned the shop sign over to read “Closed” and stood there waiting, with the door wide open.
“Tell me we’re not falling for this hard sell,” whispered Ben.
“Got any better offers?” said Jo.
“Come on,” said Mrs. Olander. “We’re not all on holiday, some of us have got a living to earn.”
Ben looked at Jo again, this time with pleading eyes.
“What about the groceries?” said Ben.
“Keep the basket,” said Mrs. Olander. “I’ll ring them up later and add them to your fishing trip bill.”
“Really?” said Ben, his eyes boring into Jo.
“Listen, I'm not hanging around this dump doing nothing for the next three days,” said Jo. “And the only way I'm going in that sea, is on a boat. Besides, it's a beautiful day.”
Ben knew when he was beat. His shoulders slumped as he relented, and he reluctantly followed Jo out through the shop doorway.