Chapter 3

Where we are is a generic roadside restaurant in the middle of nowhere. I ordered the country fried steak, and she got the club sandwich.

There’s a rock station on the radio, and they’re playing Incubus. I think it’s Incubus. Strange choice of a station for a place like this. Who knows, maybe the owner is fairly young. Or maybe he’s just having a midlife crisis.

I’d say I’m having a midlife crisis but I’m not anywhere near midlife. That is, unless I’m going to die early.

Taking a drag off my cigarette, I look at her. God damn, she’s amazing.

“What are you thinking about,” she asks.

“You,” I reply. It feels like this is the first time she’s ever actually talked, and I don’t know why. She smiles, blushes and sips her water.

I continue, “and where do you want to go after this?” Another drag.

“I’ve always wanted to see Plymouth Rock.”

“Really,” I chuckle, “it’s not all that exciting. It looks just like that rock right outside. I bet it isn’t even the same rock.”

“Oh, you’re an expert on it now?”

“I saw it once, when I was a kid. My dad took me. What I remember most is the Plymouth National Wax Museum.”

“Sounds thrilling.”

“It wasn’t what was on display. It was something else.” I hesitate. Take a long drag off my cigarette.

She starts to look worried. “What?” Our food arrives and I toss what’s left of my smoke into the ashtray.

“Nothing. Maybe I’ll tell you when we get there.” I can tell you now. When I went, it was a cold and rainy day. There was barely anyone else around. My dad stayed in the gift shop while I went through. When I got to one of the exhibits, there was a man leaning against a railing outside of one. He wasn’t moving, so I thought he was a wax figure. I went over to him to get a closer look.

He wasn’t wax. I nudged him to see if he had fallen asleep. He fell over and his cold, dead eyes stared at the ceiling. It was haunting to see him lying there, dead. It was the first (but not the last) time I had ever seen a real dead body. I didn’t feel anything. I just kept walking and didn’t tell anyone. I’ve never told anyone about this. She’ll be the first to know.

We ate in silence as something else came on the radio. I didn’t recognize it, but it sounded very familiar. Who knows.

“You know,” I break the silence, “I don’t feel like doing a lot of driving today. We’re only a few miles from the next big city. Let’s go there, check into a nice hotel and go out for a nice dinner. It’ll be a nice change from sleeping in the car and eating at places like this.”

“Can we afford that?”

“Don’t worry about it,” as I light another cigarette and offer her one, “I’ve got enough money.”