XPLR | Colby Brock

~103~

Contest today, I'll tell you how it goes.

Six hours in to my thirteen hour car ride, I was tired and hungry. I have thirteen days to go until I have to be in New York, ironically.

I pulled into a rest stop diner around eight p.m.. I stood up out of my car and stretched, rubbing my back. I reached for my phone from the passenger's seat, I've had it on do not disturb for the duration of my drive.

I took my bag and walked inside, and I sat at the bar among all the old truck drivers as a few calls and texts came in.

Colby💜: 4 missed calls, 2 voicemails.

Snapchat: new notification from Elena

Logan: 1 missed call, 1 text.

Hey, call me when you get this. I just landed in Newark. I hope your drive is safe and so are you. That's... why I called. See you. Logan's voice mail said.

I stared at Colby's name in my missed calls list. Should I even bother listening to the voicemails? They're about two hours apart. I already know what they're gonna say, he's going to be begging me to take him back, I bet. 

I sighed and pressed Logan's name. It rang twice before he answered. "Hey," he said, almost enthusiastically, "how's your drive? How much longer do you have to go?"

"Seven-ish hours," I said. He made a "sheesh" noise. "I feel bad for you. Why didn't you just fly?" he asked, "if you'd taken a flight out from Los Angeles to Eugene you would've been there already."

"I felt a drive would be more... therapeutic," I said, followed by a small chuckle. He laughed for a moment too. "I'm ready for you to get here already," he said. That evoked a confused pause from me, "Why?"

"Because I miss you. And I'm worried about you driving so far, you might get tired or something. And what happens when you get to Eugene, are you gonna stay with your family? I mean, I don't know a whole lot about your personal life but something tells me if might not go well," he rambled, "but you seem confident, so so am I. Either way, you get it. I'm worried about you. "

If he had said that weeks from now, it might have flattered me more. But it only made me miss Colby more. He had said stuff like that to me all the time...

But either way, this made me feel a little bit better. Recently, it's felt that no one has been worrying about me. So I'll welcome Logan's affection.

"I'm okay. And I'm going to ear and rest for a bit, then I'm going to get back on the road and drive through the night. And I'll arrive in the morning," I said, "What time is it in New York?"

"Uhhh," he said, and I imagined him looking at his watch. I could hear noise around him, he must be on the train or on the street outside his house. It's noisy in New York City. "A bit past eleven p.m.. Three hours ahead, big time jump. Well, not really," he chuckled again, "but you get what I mean."

"I do get what you mean."

"I go back to work tomorrow," he said. Obviously he meant to keep this call going for a while, so I stood up and I turned and picked myself a booth instead. "Work, already? Do you work a lot?" I asked. "No, I have weekends off. I actually work at a.. uh.. school," he said. "You're a music teacher?"

"Somewhat. I play music at a special needs school in Brooklyn, the kids really like it," he said. "But I also work at a diner. To make ends meet. I didn't go to college like you, Rose, and especially not Juilliard. I want to play professionally, but I'm not as good a musician as you."

I ordered a pancake plate with a sweet tea, with a kind smile to the waitress. I had a few bucks to spoil myself. And a broken heart to fill with a rest stop diner's pancakes.

"I'm not exactly good, you know. I used to practice a lot," I said as I leaned back in my seat and looked out the window, watching the moon and the stars. "I still do, I guess. You know, I didn't get much of a chance to say goodbye to Mr. Ling. I'm going to miss him so much," I said, honestly. Mr. Ling was always so good to me. I could only spare him a heartfelt email about how much I'm going to miss him, and how thankful I was that I got to work and learn from him.

He was more of a father for me in the short two years that I knew him than my father in my entire life, except he stayed up all night with me to work on solo pieces instead of helping me through a break up.

We talked for a while longer while I ate, though it was mostly just him telling me a story that leaves to another story. He can speak for so long, and I didn't mind one bit. I didn't have to talk, and I liked to learn more about him. He's a good guy, with a lot of good stories.

Do you want to open yourself up to that, Rose?

I don't know.