Part 35 (1/2)

Inside the cab of the big semi, Kate holds her backpack and pocketbook in her lap. The trucker, a cowboy type about forty, s.h.i.+fts gears and looks over at Kate. She says, ”Thanks for picking me up.” He nods and turns up the country music on the radio. Kate looks out the window and watches the road go by.

Dusk is coming on when the big rig pulls into a truck stop. Kate hops down from the cab and thanks the driver, who waves and pulls away. Inside the truck stop everyone looks tired and dusty. Kate enters the ladies' room. Next to the sink she dumps the contents of her backpack and pocketbook. Not much there. A little change, some makeup, the dead cell phone, her club clothes, toothbrush, Bible, and sketchbook.

Opening the sketchbook, she begins turning the pages. The drawings are from Henderson Swamp, a motel sign, the church where Beulah gave her the Bible. She picks up the Bible, smiles, and puts it back in her bag. Returning to the sketchbook she comes upon a drawing of F.M. She stares at it, tracing her fingers across his face.

Back in the truck stop, Kate approaches the register with a can of c.o.ke. After she pays for it, the clerk hands over her change and then reaches under the counter, producing a small bouquet of daisies.

”What's this?”

”You're Kate, right?”

”Yeah... .”

”Gentleman in the restaurant said to give these to you.”

Kate walks over to the Truck Stop Cafe and Bar. F.M. sits alone at a booth, facing the door. As Kate enters, their eyes lock. She moves toward the booth, and slides in next to F.M. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she speaks matter-of-factly, without a trace of self-pity.

”You know, my whole life I've been lied to, cheated on, and abandoned. No one has ever really cared for me. My own mother abandoned me, my so-called friends don't answer their phones, and any man I've ever trusted has turned out to be just another jerk. Until you. You seemed different. You seemed to really care about me. You seemed to want me to be ... beautiful. And not for you, but for me. I was just starting to accept that, to not question it, and then at Emma's I find you lying to either her or me. And everything just fell apart. I felt more alone than I ever felt in my life.”

F.M. remains silent. Kate looks at him. ”It's just that when I met you it was like someone took a shroud off me, allowed me to see and feel and think for the first time. It's weird, but since we've been on this, what, journey, I've found myself letting go of what I was, what I didn't like about me, that for some dumb reason I kept hanging on to because it was all I knew. And now I don't need it anymore. I don't need to be with anyone who sucks the oxygen out of me, ever again.”

F.M. smiles at her.

”I don't think you're a jerk, F.M. I'm not sure what you are, but I do know that I want to keep going with you. I'm not done with this trip. Am I?”

F.M. shakes his head. ”No, ma'am.”

”I'm not going to ask you about Emma, or about 'John,' about any of it. I've come to the conclusion that you must have your reasons, and it's just not for me to understand.”

F.M. says nothing.

”Okay. This might be the craziest, stupidest boneheaded move of all time. But I trust you, F.M. I do.”

There's a long yet comfortable silence between them. Then F.M. flashes a broad grin at Kate and pats her on the hand.

”What?”

”Nothin'. I just realized you haven't been smoking lately.”

Kate puts her hand over F.M.'s as they sit at the booth, side by side.

Kate exits the Burgundy Room. Charles is sitting in his chair enjoying a slice of pizza. Martine and the tattooed guy she picked up in the bar saunter down the street, arms around each other. Charles follows Kate's gaze, and then holds out his slice of pizza. ”Wanna bite?”

”No thanks. I seem to have lost my appet.i.te. Anyhow, my cab should be here soon.”

Kate leans against the wall next to Charles. ”You must see a lot of s.h.i.+t sitting out here, Charles.”

Charles laughs. ”That I do.”