Pros and Cons

The Remains of Our Love

Roger didn't have a plan. They took off at night, and he followed the road in front of him. Not a single soul in sight. He didn't know anything about that road, he didn't know much about the United States. It felt like the road didn't end, like his anguish. He had the woman right next to him, but he assumed she was enjoying the silence. He would run out of gas eventually, but he felt like driving until it did. She looked at him once in a while but would divert her eyes to the road quickly. She watched his grip on the steering wheel, a bit stoic, concentrated. They were going fast, like he was floating over the asphalt.

The hitchhiker had a lot to ask, but she didn't want to be rude. And she knew if she asked, she would have to reveal a lot about herself too. He was kind and charming, taking her away from her nightmare at home and for that, the young woman was grateful. They drove mostly silently through the night, his smell felt so comforting. It was better than being out in the cold, prone to danger. She could feel he was escaping from something too, she just didn't know what it was. They were both deeply miserable and lonely, as their encounter led to sex. Maybe it was their way of healing.

"So this anywhere you speak of..."

Roger smiled. "If you want to I'll drop you on the next town we find."

"No, not that." She smiled. "I wonder if my anywhere is your anywhere as well."

Roger interpreted that as the hitchhiker wondering if their problems could be somehow equalized. The immense pain he felt perhaps could be minimal compared to hers. They were both running away as if their problems were a concrete shape, like little kids trying to escape from scary ghosts that didn't exist. Roger's problem wasn't just his wife or the divorce, but the inability of being with someone without it ending in disaster. Layers and layers of feelings he didn't know how to process, to deal with.

"I believe we are in this for different reasons, yes." Roger said. "I don't know what yours is. But I assure you the pain ends one day."

She sighed. "I know it does." She looked at him  and he was attentive, eyes on the road. "Thanks for rescuing me from living hell."

They stopped at another small inn, to eat something and perhaps fool around a bit more. She was wearing sneakers as she pointed out, the heels were just for show. It seemed to be late, but none of them knew what time it was. Roger wondered how much it would last. He'd eventually run out of money and she'd go somewhere else. But for a while, that was what he wanted. Some beautiful company, some attention. Someone who didn't remind him of how pathetic his existence was. They had some hamburgers with beer.

"So, apart from picking up strangers at the side of the road, what do you do?"

"Me?" He laughed. "I'm in a band... I was in a band."

"Oh, you're the worst kind!" She laughed. "How many hearts were broken by you?"

He sighed. "Many more than I would like."

The young woman noticed Roger's smile dropped. "Oh. I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay." His blue eyes diverted from hers. "Sometimes the love supposed to set us free brings us down."

She nodded, sadly. "I know exactly what you mean."

He raised his eyebrows, trying to lighten up the conversation. "If I were you I'd stay away from musicians."

"Aren't you one?"

"I was... I am? I used to be." He took a sip from his can of beer. "But as people tend to believe, heartbreak fuels the gift of writing. So I'll be very productive in the next weeks or so."

"Oh so you're also a songwriter." She giggled. "You better not write about me, sir."

"I can't promise that." Roger said, and it sounded so much sweeter than he intended. The woman seemed to notice and she blushed a bit.

"Well, if you do, I hope you write nice things."

Roger hadn't thought of writing for a while, his thoughts were too negative to be translated into words. Maybe now that he had good company, writing wouldn't be so bad. They finished their food and went back to their rented bedroom for the night. It was a small space, with a double bed, one armchair and two bedside tables, one had a lamp over it. It was very cheap, so none of them complained. Both lay down and cuddled. Her hair smelled amazing and he closed his eyes, trying to capture the smell like a memory he'd have for years to come.

"What should we do now?" She asked.

"What we are doing currently." He sighed. He underestimated how much he missed being the big spoon. Both of them were sleepless, their adventures in bed responsible for the irregular sleeping schedule. The question sounded way more than asking about that particular moment. Roger didn't want to think about the future yet. He didn't want to hurt, he didn't want to think of being alone. So he just took one step at a time.

"What about tomorrow?" She asked.

"Do you have any ideas?" He asked softly, next to her ear.

"No. Do you?"

"I like fishing." He said. "We should go fishing tomorrow."

She chuckled. "I'd love to go fishing with you."

The young woman felt comfortable in Roger's arms, something that she never imagined it would happen a week prior. He was a stranger still, and it was sad she felt better with that man she had met three days prior than her last company. Being invited to go fishing meant more to her than he could imagine. After all of the turmoil she had to endure, the young hitchhiker felt like she mattered to someone. And at that point she didn't mind it was Roger. She'd be grateful for that forever.