They Forgot Me at a Rest Stop, I Forgot Them Forever novel · Chapter 4 of 24

Chapter 4: The Spare Room

Waylon was leaning on the gas station ice machine when I came down the road with the cake.

He looked at it, then at me.

"Is that the one with your name on it?"

"It doesn't have a name on it. I made it."

"Okay," he said. "Does it ride up front or in back?"

"Up front. It sits on my lap."

We drove two hours east through the dark.

The towns had already closed.

The lemon cake rode in my arms and the heater ticked.

I didn't cry.

I wanted to, and I waited for it, but what came instead was a flat gray quiet.

Somewhere past Elmira he handed me a thermos lid of coffee without a word.

"It's bad," he said.

"It's perfect."

Harmon Falls turned out to be one main street, a feed store and a creek you could hear before you saw it.

His house sat at the end of a gravel road, a narrow white farmhouse with the porch light on.

It had belonged to his grandfather, and a woodpile ran along the side.

"Spare room's at the top of the stairs," he said, holding the screen door with his shoulder. "The bed's made. My aunt does it every month in case a cousin shows up."

"Do cousins show up?"

"Never."

I stopped in the hall.

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