Page 55 of Hidden with a Rockstar
"Thanks, Jem."
I don't take it. He doesn't ask again. Sandy opens a bag of crisps and offers them around. The sound of crunching fills the silence. The countryside rolls past in greens and greys. I rest my forehead against the window and try not to think about the text message I'm holding like a stone.
By the time we're two hours in, Sandy's restless. She's been quiet, which means something's brewing.
"Can we stop at the next town?" she asks. "I need a snack."
"Bro, it’s a twenty-minute detour," Jeremy says. “No way.”
"I know. But if I have to sit in this van for two more hours without snacks, I'm going to lose my mind."
Ana looks up from her phone. "We just stopped two hours ago."
“I know. I just—I need something to do with my hands that isn’t reading about myself,” she says.
“Alright, alright.”
Jeremy takes the next exit. The café in town is small and good, the kind of place that exists in the space between somewhere and nowhere. We all get out, stiff and creaky from the van. Sandy goes to the counter and orders a triple shot latte. I order a coffee. Ana orders a caramel slice. Jo orders herbal tea and a scone. Jeremy orders nothing—he never eats or drinks when he's driving.
While we wait, Jo pulls me aside.
"Hey," she says. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, why?"
"You've been quiet all morning."
"I'm tired."
"From what?"
"Just stuff," I say. "Band stuff. Industry stuff."
"Really? I’ve been doing a lot more now. Are you sure its not personal stuff?"
I don't answer. The coffee comes. Jo takes hers and doesn't push further.
Back in the van, coffee in hand.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” Sandy says, to the van generally, to nobody. “For the mess. For dragging everyone up a mountain because I can’t keep my life off the internet.”
“You didn’t drag us,” Ana says. “Rhonda dragged us.”
That gets a laugh, even out of Sandy—a small one, but real.
“It’s okay,” Jeremy says, eyes on the road, “It’s a good excuse for a retreat. Now we can all have a break and have fun.”
“You guys are the best,” Sandy says, and she means it, and she puts her head against the window and goes quiet, and this time nobody fills the silence for her. We just let her have it.
The van is warm and, for a little while, nobody’s thinking about heartbreak or frameworks
I'm not there with them. I'm three hours away, sitting next to Lena, trying to figure out how to be the person she needs me.
Jo notices me not laughing. She reaches over and squeezes my knee.
The van is warm and the road hums under us, and I put my head against the cold window and I’m gone before I decide to be—out cold, mouth probably open.
When I wake we’re on gravel and the trees have gone white and someone has laid a jacket over me.
