Sometimes this world

The rain spattered hard across the windshield, rendering the faded lines on the two-lane highway almost invisible in the darkness. She drove with both hands clutching the wheel and her face close to the windshield as the wipers batted furiously at the rain. The road was mostly straight and flat, and for that, she was grateful. That, and not much else.

She stole a quick glance at her clock display and saw that it was 9:43 p.m. She estimated she still had a little more than a hundred miles to drive. She’d made the drive before, years ago and in the daytime. How the miles had flown by then, made quicker by good music and good conversation with him. Before they were married, before everything went to hell. Tonight, the miles were slower, made longer by the dark and the rain and the solitude and the dread of a meeting tomorrow she didn’t want to attend.

Ahead, she could see the lights of a small town. Another glance at her Navigation screen told her she was coming into Spur. Spur. A good name for a podunk town out in the middle of nowhere. She checked her gas gauge and saw that she still had about half a tank. More than enough to get there. No need to stop. Still, she’d been driving for hours and the thought of getting out of the car for a moment sounded good. Use the bathroom, get some coffee, and then power on through to her destination. The speed limit dropped from 70 to 60, and she clicked off the cruise control.

She drove into the town, slowing further, drawn by the bright beacon of the convenient store up ahead on the left. Every one of these small towns had the same store, with their fried burritos and their annoying beep when you opened the door and their stinky bathrooms. Still, it was what she needed, and she pulled into the parking lot and came to a stop as close to the entrance as she could. She killed the engine and the wipers came to a stop mid-swipe. Immediately, the bright lights of the store became blurred with rain. She got out and made her way quickly to the entrance, feeling the rain on the back of her neck as she half-ran from her car. She opened the door and immediately the infernal beeping began, and she wondered how the employees could stand it.

“Hello,” said a dull voice in dutiful greeting.

“Hello,” she said to the young woman behind the counter, a bored-looking girl with a dirty red uniform shirt and a massive styrofoam soft drink cup in her hand. No one else was in the building, as far as she could tell, which suited her fine. She didn’t want to exchange any more pleasantries than absolutely necessary. She made her way quickly to the bathroom, which stank like she knew it would, and emerged two minutes later, wiping her hands on her pants. She followed the smell of coffee to the back of the store and poured a medium cup. It took a moment to get the plastic lid on right, and for a moment she thought there wasn’t a correct size.

On the way to the counter, she glanced at the snack aisle. She hadn’t planned on getting anything to eat, but as soon as she looked she felt a pang of hunger. After a quick deliberation she grabbed a bag of Fritos and a Snickers bar and made her way to the counter.

“That everything for ya?” asked the bored cashier.

“That’s it.”

“Comes to three-fifty.”

She fished out her debit card and inserted it into the reader. Nothing happened, so she tried again.

“Gotta swipe it,” said the girl.

“Ah.” She swiped the card and stared at the reader while the cashier stared at her. From somewhere came the sound of country music. After a long few seconds it asked for her PIN, which she typed quickly. Another few seconds of staring at the reader and the register finally spit out her receipt.

“Want your receipt?”

“No, thanks.”

“Have a good night.”

“You too.”

She grabbed her stuff and made her way back to the car. She knew better than to try to open her snacks while driving, so she tore open the Fritos bag and bit off the end of the Snickers wrapper. After folding back the lid to the coffee, she was ready to go. The rain had not let up, and her wipers jumped back into action as soon as she started the car.

She drove through town, accelerating with the increasing speed limit and munching Fritos. Another hour and a half or so and she’d be at the hotel, getting ready for bed. It was a good thing she got those snacks, she realized. Otherwise she’d probably have to drive around looking for fast food. The lights of the town grew dimmer in her rear view mirror and she sped up. She reached for the coffee and went to take a sip when the lid popped off and she inadvertently poured some of it into her mouth and down her wrist. The coffee was scalding hot and she spit it out while jerking the cup away, which caused more of it to spill onto her lap.

“Fuck!” she yelled in pain and annoyance. The windshield dripped coffee and the pain in her mouth and wrist almost caused her to drop the cup. Instinctively, she knew not to slam on the brakes in the rain. She lifted her foot from the accelerator and let the car slow on it’s own while she struggled to see. She managed to put the cup down in the center console and flipped on her high beams. In the near distance a blue highway sign lit up and she hoped it was what she thought it was. Sure enough, she coasted onward and read the sign: REST AREA ONE MILE.

The thought of having to stop again did not please her, but there was no way she could drive another hundred miles like this. She needed to clean herself off as best she could with napkins and try to clean her windshield. She accelerated, blowing on her scalded hand as she drove. It seemed like a long mile to the rest stop. Another blue sign told her she was there and she pulled in. She could see that there were no bathrooms, just a picnic table with a roof over it. It would have to do. She pulled up and parked the car but left it running. This wouldn’t take but a minute.

She undid her seat belt and turned on her dome light. A quick rummage through the glovebox yielded a wad of napkins, stored away for just such an occasion. She wiped her hand and mouth and rubbed them on her lap. By now the pain had subsided into a dull, wet discomfort. After she dried herself as best she could, she turned her attention to the windshield, wiping it with more napkins. A thin film of coffee smeared her visibility and she remembered the half-empty bottle of Aquafina water in the back seat. Pouring a little onto her napkin wad made for better results, and after a few moments she was satisfied with her efforts. She gathered up the napkins and the water bottle and got out, looking for a trash can. It was a few feet away, by the picnic table. She got out and deposited her trash and turned for the car when she heard a sound. A soft, animal whimper. She scanned the picnic area and it took her a moment to locate the source in the dim glow of the reflected headlights: a dog, shivering under the table.

Instantly, her heart melted. “Hey, boy,” she said in a soft, high voice. She didn’t know if it was a boy, but it didn’t matter. “What are you doing out here in the rain?”

The dog gave a quick wag of its tail but stayed where it was. Whether it trembled in cold or fright, she didn’t know. She approached it slowly and it backed further under the table.

“It’s okay, boy. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s okay.” She knelt down, closer to the dog’s level. She could see its long, matted hair, wet with rain. Its eyes were wide as it shifted its weight from one front paw to the other.

“Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

The dog wagged its tail again, and she wondered if it knew the word eat or if it was just responding to her tone. She remembered the snacks she bought. “Stay here, boy, okay? I’ll be right back. Stay.”

She went to the car and killed the engine, leaving the lights on. Dogs weren’t supposed to have chocolate, so that ruled out the Snickers. She grabbed the Fritos and went back to where the poor thing still shivered under the table.

“Are you hungry? Look what I have.” She crouched down and grabbed a handful of chips and extended them toward the dog. “Yummy food. Yummy Fritos.”

The tail wagged again but the dog didn’t move, torn between hope and fear. She put the chips on the concrete floor and spread them out. “Mmm, mmm. Come on, boy. Are you hungry?” She took one of the chips and, after a quick examination, put it in her mouth and chewed. “Yum, yum. Good food.”

The dog inched forward, ears flat against its head, trembling. It reached the closest chip and gave it a tentative sniff before licking it gingerly from the floor. “Good boy,” she said as it chewed. The tail wagged and the dog inched close enough to devour the rest of the chips in a matter of seconds. When it was done, it looked up at her, expectant.

“Did you like those? I’ll say you did. Here, have some more.” She deposited more chips and the dog wolfed them down. She poured out the rest of the bag.

“Yeah, you like those, doncha, boy. Yummy Fritos. Not the best thing for you, though.” The dog finished the chips and wagged its tail, clearly still hungry. “That’s all I got, Fido,” she said. “No more. Can’t give you chocolate.” She placed her hand where the chips had been and the dog licked it.

She examined it more closely. No collar that she could see. It was hard to tell if it were a stray, or if it just looked terrible because it was wet. She wondered what to do next. She didn’t want to put it in her car, and even if she did, where would she take it? If there were a collar, she could probably call someone, but no such luck. The dog looked at her as if it couldn’t understand why she was holding back on the food.

“I don’t have any more,” she said. “I’m sorry.” The dog wagged again and she knew she couldn’t bear to leave it like this. The least she could do was drive back to the convenience store and buy some dog food. That way, at the very least, it wouldn’t starve anytime soon.

“Stay here, boy,” she said. “I’ll be right back, okay? I’m coming right back. More food, yummy food, okay?” She made her way back to the car and started it up. Through the passenger window she could see the dog, its face questioning. She lowered the window and called, “I’ll be right back! Stay here!”

As she drove away, she felt a pang of guilt for leaving the dog, but she quickly reminded herself that she was doing as much as could be reasonably expected. Buy some dog food, bring it back, make sure it had plenty to eat before she hit the road for the final leg of her journey. Really, it was more than most people would do, and besides, it was getting really late.

She drove the three miles back to town and to the store. After parking in the same spot, she again hurried inside, the infernal beeping announcing her arrival. The same clerk girl looked up, but showed no sign of surprise or recognition. “Hello,” she said.

“I’m back.” She glanced around the store. “Do you have dog food here?”

“Back there.” The girl indicated an aisle at the back of the store.

The selection was pretty chintzy, she saw right away. No Science Diet at Spur’s only open store. Still, it was better than nothing. The best they had was Purina for medium-sized breeds. She grabbed the bag.

“There’s a stray dog up there at the rest stop,” she told the clerk.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I found it on the way out of town. Looks like it’s starving. I couldn’t find a collar, so I’m going to feed it. Maybe the owners will come looking for it.”

“Huh.” If the clerk had an opinion of this plan, she kept it to herself.

She paid and left quickly. “I’m coming, boy,” she said as she pulled out of the lot. “Sit tight.”

She drove as fast as she dared, then slowed to exit at the rest stop, pulling up to park in the same place. Anxiously, she lowered the passenger window, eager to tell her shivering ward the good news.

The dog was gone.

“What?” she said to no one. She stared, open-mouthed, at where the dog had been. It was definitely not there now. She got out of the car.

“Here, boy,” she called. “Here, boy.” She whistled as best she could – a plaintive, feeble thing. She called again. She was answered only by darkness and silence, except for the unceasing rain. She got an idea and reached into the car and pulled out the dog food. She shook it vigorously. Her father had done this when she was a child, and it had never failed to bring Rocky, their little terrier, running. She shook the bag again.

Nothing.

“Dammit,” she said. She threw the bag back in the car, then got in and opened the glove box and pulled out a small, disposable flashlight. It was old and the battery was down but it still cast a pale light. She got out again and called for the dog as she walked around the picnic table, shining the light to and fro. The grass was tall and wet and she could feel it soaking through her jeans, wetting her socks. She shone the light at the trees bordering the rest area and then back at the picnic table but the dog was gone.

She stood in the rain. Now she could feel it soaking through her windbreaker on her back and shoulders. She called again, one last time, a hopeless cry into the dark that died quickly and without answer.

She walked back to the car and got in. Her glance fell to the bag of dog food and she retrieved it and got out again and walked over to where the dog had been. After fumbling with the string for a few moments she managed to get it open.  She poured a large amount of it onto the ground, where she could still see some crumbs from the chips the dog had eaten, not ten minutes ago. She set the bag atop the picnic table and walked back to the car and got in.

She sat with the engine running, eyes unfocused. It was time to go.  There was nothing more to be done. She wondered what had happened to the dog but only for a moment, because there was no way of knowing. She sighed. Sometimes she hated this world and every damn thing in it but there was nothing to do but keep going. There were times when she told herself she didn’t want to live in it anymore but she still did, until the day would come when she didn’t. She didn’t know whether that thought came as a relief or a fear or both but there was no point in thinking about it now. She still had about a hundred miles to go, another hour and a half, by her estimation.