We Go Down (Bremmy 2)

Chapterish 9

The next exit comes in about twenty minutes. Brooks parks outside the 24-hour deli market. The truck whines with exhaustion when he turns the key and the engine cuts out.

We leave Brody and Lauren in the backseat, warm and snug under their heap of blankets. A row of tractor-trailers stretches along the left side of the pavement. At least twenty. Snow drifts start to pile against the windshields.

A gust of wind pushes against our backs, edging us closer to the deli and the flickering OPEN sign hanging in the window. It smells like fire and cold. Basically smells like the epitome of winter. I pull my hoodie closer around my head as we reach the door.

"OK, s'mores," Brooks mumbles.

"Chocolate bars. Marshies. Graham crackers." I raise my fingers with each new item, counting them off.

Brooks starts down the closest aisle. We're the only two in the store. Unsurprising. It is almost 11:30 PM and a trucker's gotta sleep. Brooks disappears to the other side of the row. I follow with the lingering trail of salty allspice guiding my way.

Déjà vu creeps into my memory and I'm transported back to Thanksgiving with Brooks –back to our makeshift feast of hot fries and chocolate milk. I shake it from my head, walking up to the graham crackers and grabbing the first box I see. I can't believe it's been over a fucking year.

"How many bags? Of marshmallows?" Brooks calls from the next aisle over.

"Get two!" I shout back. "I found the crackers."

"Got them." Brooks shows up beside me at the register. His eyes are twinkling and I see his mischievous grin. "And I got you a gift."

My eyes go wide at the box of condoms he's holding up. "Nice of you," I laugh.

He rolls his eyes at me and drops them on the counter, tossing a second pack on top of the candy bars.

I swear the woman behind the counter winks at me.

"Thanks," I say, taking our change. I stuff it into my jean pocket as Brooks grabs our bag.

It's somehow colder outside. Maybe it's the fresh air or the thought of 24 condoms up for grabs, but I'm suddenly wide-awake. Brooks squeezes my waist all the way back to the truck, pulling me in for slobbery kisses.

We find Lauren and Brody standing in the bed of the truck, standing on tiptoes with arms in the air.

"Stretching our legs," Brody shouts down.

"Care to join?" Lauren asks, twirling around.

"We've had our exercise," Brooks says. He tosses the bag in the truck where it lands next to my Vera duffle.

"Shit it's 11:40!" I announce. When did it get so late?

"You got somewhere to be?" Brooks asks, cocking his eyebrows.

"No." I shake my head. "Actually, I'm kind of hungry."

Brooks cranes his neck, sweeping the litter of neon signs at the rest stop. "Diner?"

My eyes find where his are looking: A dingy dinner directly opposite the row of sleeping tractor-trailers. There's no name, just an illuminated DINER sign above the entrance. Waffle house vibes.

"Looks perfect," I nod.

"Guys hungry?" Brooks asks looking up at the other two.

"I could eat," Brody answers.

"Sure," Lauren agrees.

There're approximately seven people in the diner. Four of them are us. There's the waitress that sat us at a window table, the cook, and a curmudgeon-looking man drinking a coffee in the corner booth.

"What's that smell?" Brody asks, scrunching his nose.

"Neglect," I answer.

"Despair," Brooks says, laughing.

"Hopes and dreams of truck stoppers?" I offer, smirking.

"Yea? Well that's us right now." Brody plays with his menu.

Brooks stretches out in the booth next to me. His leg grazes mine and even through two layers of denim I can feel his warmth. How does the cold not faze him?

"What do you guys want? Let's split a ton of shit." Lauren starts listing things to order. "Definitely milkshakes."

"It's freezing out," I remind her.

"Eh, we're inside," she says, shrugging.

I let Lauren order for the table, making sure she at least gets fries. My craving of the night. Besides Brooks. I can survive a little longer knowing I'll have him all to myself for the next three days. Sure, I'm eager to see everyone else –for lazy mornings and day drinking and Trix's secret party she won't tell anyone about. I'm excited to be part of the memories again. Thanks to B.

Doesn't mean I'm not cherishing this last hour with just the four of us. Next to me, Brooks's head is thrown back in laughter, his eyes drawn tightly shut. The green glow of the DINER sign is falling onto his face through the window.

Fries and shakes. The midnight dinner of wanderlust dreamers.

"Ugh. All gone." Lauren whines over the sucking noise of her straw against the bottom of an empty glass.

"All done, honey?" The waitress, Barb, appears tableside.

"Thanks." Lauren nods her head.

"Can we have four coffees?" Brooks catches Barb before she leaves.

"Coffee at midnight?" Brody asks.

"Excuse me. You say that like it's a bad thing," I scoff.

"Gotta stay awake." Brooks shrugs. I watch him run his fingers through his hair and down over his face.

"Only 20 more minutes!" Lauren says.

"Can't wait," I reveal. "It's been ages since I've seen everyone."

"Are we the last ones?" Brody asks.

Brooks nods.

"Hope there's enough rooms," Lauren says.

"If not, we can share," I joke.

"There's plenty, babe," Brody answers.

"Don't worry. They're saving our rooms," Brooks echoes. He squeezes my thigh beneath the table and my body perks up.

I'd forgotten we were going to the Brooks' cabin. I've been there before, once, when I was 17 (holy shit, I'm old). It was the year Brooks and I started dating. His family came up for some holiday weekend and I tagged along. It was back when his parents were still together –something I can't even picture now. I can't even picture the cabin when I think about it now.

I fail to stifle a yawn and am thankful Brooks ordered the coffee. More thankful when Barb leaves the pot for us. The coffee warms my soul. Sure, it's burnt and a little gritty, but its warmth extends to my extremities. I wish my duck boots had better lining. 

"OK. It's officially tomorrow. Or today. I don't know. Let's go!" Lauren giggles to herself. Sugar and French-fry high.

"We're coming, we're coming," Brody says, jogging after her.

Brooks stands up and pulls me into his chest for a hug. I wonder what it's for, but I don't ask. He chugs the dregs of his coffee and we leave cash on the table.

I step out of the diner. Yes, I left the stench of burnt coffee and wet rags behind. Thank god. My nose fills with smoke and my lungs with cold. The cool air makes my eyes water and I'm surprised they're not freezing over. Fuck, it's colder than Colorado ever was.

It's a short walk to the truck. I sidestep dirty mounds of snow, my way illuminated by the sea of stars above. This is not the same sky from Cape May. Can't be.

There's something about seeing the stars in the absence of city smog. It makes you realize you're in a better place. Maybe there's just something magical about a sleepy town truck stop.