They Forgot Me at a Rest Stop, I Forgot Them Forever novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Blue Semi

A trucker who watched the plaza drives Samantha north toward the lake house, her father tells her on the phone to just take the bus, and the trucker says her sister stood at the van window holding a phone, waiting for her to be gone.

The man in the canvas jacket was leaning against the front of a blue semi, eating the second half of his sandwich.

He had been at the next table inside, and he watched me come across the lot.

"Silver van," he said. "Left through the east ramp."

"You saw it."

"I saw you drink a coffee for ten minutes by the window. I figured you were with them."

"I was."

He wiped his hand on his jeans.

"Waylon Corrigan," he said, and didn't offer to shake. "I'm going to Binghamton and then home to Harmon Falls, about an hour past it. There's a bus station in Binghamton. Or you can ride along until you've got a better plan."

I looked at the truck, and at the man, and at the twenty-dollar bill in my fist.

A stranger's cab in the middle of the afternoon was a bad idea. I knew that.

So was waiting in a lobby for a family that had just told me, on a phone, not to make a scene.

"I don't have my wallet," I said. "Or my phone."

"I've got a phone."

He held it out.

I called my mother's number again.

It rang until it went to voicemail, so I called again, and on the fourth try, someone picked up and didn't speak.

"Mom?"

"It's me, Sam."

My dad's voice was low, and I could hear a gas pump clicking behind him.

"Dad. They left me at the plaza."

"I know, honey. Your mother told me. I pulled in for gas."

"Did you check the back seat? Did you even look?"

"Camille said you texted. She showed me."

"Dad, I didn't text her. My phone is in your cup holder. Look at it."

I heard him breathe, and the road noise, and nothing else.

"Sam," he said at last. "Can you get yourself to a bus? Just tonight. We'll sort it all out tomorrow when everybody's calmer."

"Is my cake there?"

"The cake's fine. It's in the back. Everybody's very happy about the cake."

Somewhere behind him my mother called, "Ray."

"I have to go, Sam. Take the bus. Please. I'll send money."

The line went dead.

I stood there holding Waylon's phone against my chest.

He did not say anything.

He did not tell me it would be okay or that families are complicated, and I found I was grateful for that too.

"Samantha," I said, finally. "Samantha Larkham."

"I'm sorry, Samantha."

"They're having a party. My sister's engagement. I baked the cake." I heard how stupid it sounded. "Nobody called back to check on me."

"You want the bus station?"

"I want my phone."

"Then you want to go to the lake," Waylon said. "That's two and a half hours north and a long way off my route. I can drop you at the road. I'm not going to pretend I understand, but I'll drive you there."

"Why?"

He shrugged one shoulder.

"I've got a load for Buffalo at eight tomorrow. I can lose an hour."

I had expected a speech, or a look.

He was just a man with a sandwich wrapper in his pocket, opening the passenger door of a semi truck for me.

The cab was cleaner than my car.

A thermos sat in the cup holder, and a gray cardigan, folded, lay on the dash with a pair of reading glasses on top.

"My aunt's," he said, when I looked. "She forgets things in here. Seatbelt."

I buckled it.

He pulled out past the empty slot where the van had been, and I looked at it until we were on the ramp.

For a while neither of us talked.

The road ran north between hills the color of wet cardboard, and every mile took me closer to the people who had left me.

"Can I say something that's none of my business?" Waylon said, somewhere past the first exit.

"You're giving me a ride. It's a little your business."

"I sat in that plaza the whole time. I drank a coffee and watched your family."

"And?"

"Your sister set down her cup and left the counter a few minutes after you sat by the window," he said. "She went out alone and stood at the passenger window holding a phone, looking at the doors you'd be coming through. She never took her eyes off them. When she was sure you weren't coming out, she got in, and the van was moving."

He kept his eyes on the road.

"Your dad was already in the driver's seat," he said. "Nobody was in a hurry. Nobody went looking for you."

I turned my head and watched the guardrail go by.

"She told me they'd wait," I said.

"Then I think she knew you'd be gone before you came out."

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