TUCOT: Back from the dead.
It's been years since I've last written anything, so I got back into the swing of things by updating The Unofficial Coming-Out Trip.
So, here is the whole story + the update.
When you tell them that you’re leaving, they don’t react with the vehement, “No,” that you expected; completely the opposite actually. Which wasn’t, in your mind, good, because the whole point of leaving on an unexpected road trip is to rebel. Go against what your parents say.
“Want me to run to Wal-Mart?” your mother says. “I can pick up some of those mini-things. Toothpaste, shampoo-“
“Aren’t you at all worried?” Maybe not worried, but, “Angry that I’m just taking off?”
Your mother regards you as a second priority, this weeks shopping list being the first. “No, you’re old enough. It’s about time.”
God, you think and decide not even to ask your father to try to conjure up some emotion about you leaving. You mother calls from the kitchen, saying she’s leaving for Wal-Mart. “Last chance,” she says. And you ask her to buy you a few bags of chips.
Your trip isn’t exactly the go-where-the-wind-takes-me thing you wanted it to be. You have directions to San Francisco (you know you have to go _there_, not just any random city in the West) that you got from Map Quest. And you know the trip should take exactly 35 hours, and 8 minutes, 2114 and a quarter miles from Millington, Tennessee. You have the trip scheduled down to the hour. Know where you’re going to stop, and _not_ going to stop; absolutely no stopping for hitchhikers.
You want to go to San Francisco, mainly because of the boys (or ‘bois’, a term you discovered in XY Magazine. The only remotely young, gay thing in Millington) that lived there. In all of their tanned, blond, California glory, they possess everything that the boys of Millington lacked. According to XY, California (San Francisco in particular) was the place to be if you were young and gay.
There were no gay people that you knew of in Millington. Non that were un-closeted, anyway. And your parents new that you were gay, but took long measures to make sure that you kept quiet about it. “We’re church-going people,” your father had said, “Its okay with us, Justin. But all of Millington don’t need to know.” And [almost] no one did. And that’s why you needed to get to San Francisco. It was the end of the school year, and you planned on staying until August (which didn’t fret your parents, either) and coming back a week before school began.
The only unplanned aspect of the whole thing (which from here on would be known as The Unofficial Coming Out Trip, or TUCOT, for short. It was on the folder with the directions) was where you were going to go when you got there. You had one offer, from someone online. His name was Andrew. He was fairly attractive, save his spiked red (not Raggedy-Ann, but Manic Panic) hair. He seemed safe, but the thought that maybe his picture could be fake loomed in the back of your mind. You told him you might still come, as a last resort.
You had your car. A new (thanks to your jobs at various stores in the mall) Jeep Liberty, gunmetal blue that you were incredibly proud of. Your bags were packed. You had your cell phone, some food, and most of your clothes packed in the trunk. There was room for extra, just in case you picked something up. You had money too. About 3000 in cash, again, thanks to your jobs; and maybe you’re parents, too.
The only qualm you father seemed to have, is that you were going alone. “Maybe you could get that boy Lance to come with ya,” he said at dinner. Lance ended his friendship with you at the beginning of senior year. He inevitably found out you were gay, and had a few (religious) issues with it. He gave you the whole speech about eternal damnation that night in your room. All you had done was stated that you found Usher ‘beyond adorable’ and had had a wicked crush on him since 6th grade. No big.
“Lance has plans already,” you say. You didn’t tell your parents about the loss of your one (and only) friend in Millington. It would disappoint them too much.
-
After a tear-less good-bye to your parents, you started the engine and pulled out of the drive-way. At you merged on to I-40 West from Warford Street, you thought that maybe TUCOT would have been a bigger deal in maybe 1976, and you weren’t so overly prepared.
You mother called when you were paying for a pack of gum and gas you had yet to pump on the interstate.
“Just calling to ask you want me to mail anything to the Motel 8 in Arkansas.” The way she spoke, sounded as if you weren’t nearly a thousand miles away from home, and just down the street at Walgreen’s.
“No thanks, mom.” You lowered your voice when you told her you loved her. A guy was sitting on the curb near your car, and you couldn’t very well let him hear you get all sappy like that. You flipped your phone shut and acknowledged him with a nod of your head.
“Where you headed?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he’s from around here, nor does his voice even match the short, black-hair, goateed body it came out of.
“San Francisco.” You started pumping the gas, waiting for him to say something. He watches you and pulls out a cigarette. You only worry for a second that he could blow you all up with a drop of burning ash.
“You got enough room for a passenger in there?” Of course I do, you think. But then there’s the no hitchhiker rule. You can see the dark read letters you wrote it in screaming at you from the back of the TUCOT folder.
“I guess so.” The pump clicks and your tank is full. “How’d you get out here, anyway?” You see the bag that he has been sitting on when he stands and explains that some assholes that he was with thought it would be funny shit to take off when he was in the store paying for gas. He climbs into your passenger seat and throws his stuff in the back.
“I’m Chris, by the way.”
“Justin.” The no hitchhiker rule seemed stupid a few miles back anyway. And technically, Chris wasn’t a hitchhiker. He was a drop-off-ee.
“You got anything else to listen to?” You looked at Chris and then the CD player. The TUCOT soundtrack so far had been Usher, John Mayer (“I’ve been driving…”), The Roots, Nikka Costa, Michael Jackson, and India Arie. You didn’t have a problem with it.
“No, why?” He said that this music was too ‘la-dee-da’ and reached back to pull something out of his bag. You cringed when you saw your Michael Jackson CD hit the floor. He pressed play and selected his CD. Loud guitar blew through your sound system.
“Good Charlotte.” He grinned, content, and lay back in his now reclined seat.
You looked down at the TUCOT folder on the floor, and considered re-enforcing the no-hitchhiker rule.
-
You told Chris, when you arrived at the third scheduled Motel, things would have to change. He agreed and said he would start paying for gas and food. And the next room would be all his. And he would also learn to listen to music that wasn’t all hard edges.
“You have too many rules.” He pulled a somewhat clean shirt over his head and started to pack up his things. You did, but that was just how you operated. You wanted to tell him, that if you hadn’t planned, he wouldn’t even be here. But you just pulled your beanie on, and went to start the car, which issued a loudly-yelled, “Old man,” from of Chris. Who was actually the old man at 28 years old.
The car almost didn’t start, which scared the fucking hell out of you for a second, before you turned the key again. Just a few more states, you said to the empty car, don’t start fucking with me now.
Chris joined you a few minutes later, and decided that this was a good time to listen to The All-American Rejects. You begged to differ, but kept quiet and zoned out, putting yourself in driving-mode.
You saw more hitchhikers on the roadside, but in your head you made up the new rule, that hitchhikers were only to be picked up at scheduled stops, because Chris was beginning to bug you. (At the moment he was belting out his rendition of “Paper Heart”.)
You would find your next hitchhiker at the Mobil that you were scheduled to stop at between Oklahoma City, and Amarillo.
-
At the Texas-New Mexico Border, you stopped at a gas station. Chris insisted that it was your turn to pay for gas and went as far as to get the money out of your wallet for you, while he pumped. When you came back, another man stood near your car, talking to Chris.
“Who’s this?” The stranger, who you had only seen from behind so far, was dressed like what people in Millington would call a “hippie.” He wore a faded brown shirt, and equally faded, and dusty dark jeans, along with black flip-flops on his feet (toe-ring visible from where you were standing). His hair was longish, and you could see what looked like 6 bracelets around his wrist. He smelled of incense or something maybe you couldn’t describe because of your limited repertoire or Millington Smells. Chris shook his head no at the man before introducing him as Jayce.
The man then turned around. He looked at you closely, scrutinizing you with his sharp grey-blue eyes. San Francisco boys, you decided, even with their tanned, blond, _out_ selves, had nothing on Jayce. Maybe you would stay in Texas, or New Mexico, if this is what all of the boys looked like.
“Hey, you’re Justin.” He smiled, and his eyes got all slitty and crinkly. Like a bulldog, you thought.
“Yeah.” You wondered why he was here. At this deserted gas station. And what exactly was in the giant bag that hung at his side.
“Chris says you’re going to Cali. This true?” You nodded and he handed his bag to Chris, who opened the back door and threw it in. “He said you wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, as long as I paid my way.”
Of course you can tag along, free of charge, in fact, you thought. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Jayce grinned and gave you thumbs up before climbing into the back of the Liberty. “Lady, lady Liberty,” you heard him sing as you drove away from the pump.
Jayce had a lot to say, and felt at liberty to say it all at once. He told his whole life story through the first quarter of New Mexico. His family was in Maryland, and he had hitchhiked his way here. He sold incense (you were right) to make a living, “but obviously, that doesn’t bring home the bacon,” he stated. So underneath the scads of scented sticks and his clothing in that bag (which was made by his sister, you learned), was a large stash of marijuana. “I never smoke the stuff,” he said making a face, “I just supply it to those in need.”
Jayce had yet to cover what you were interested in. He hadn’t mentioned a significant other yet. You took the opportunity at the Motel that night, while Chris was asleep to ask him.
“God, I can’t even remember the last time I was with someone.” You sat on his bed next to him. “I think I was with someone back in Atlanta.”
“You think?”
“I think.” He stretched. “You know how it is, Justin-- Sometimes the other person is in a relationship.” Jayce pushed the blankets aside. “And you’re just there for the sex.”
-
You didn’t want to make it to San Francisco without sleeping with Jayce. You told this to Chris while you were brushing your teeth, and he was shaving. He nicked himself, and you spit out your toothpaste.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Look at him.” You continued to brush and looked through the mirror, which reflected a peacefully sleeping Jayce. He doesn’t even snore, you thought. So prefect.
“You’re crazy.” Chris splashed Aqua Velva on his face and winced. “He’s a hippie, slutty, drifting drug dealer.” Which in your mind were all positive qualities. Hippies conserved, sluts were experienced, drifters had no baggage, and Jayce always had money. You counted these things off on your fingers, toothbrush in mouth, giving you a temporary speech impediment. “Justin, do you hear yourself?”
No, I don’t, you thought. He sounded like the old man he was. You say defiantly, “It’s my new goal.”
-
Chris was driving today, which gave you time to completely reevaluate [the already reevaluated] TUCOT. You threw pages two and three of the rules out of the window. One was still needed, to keep the car clean.
“Finally deciding to relax?” Chris kept his eyes on the road, but smiled. “It’s because of Jayce, isn’t it?”
“No.” Yes, it was, you thought. You eyed sleeping-Jayce, who was laying in the backseat. “I just realized some of the rules are a little too strict. Like, for example, rule number twenty-three.”
“Ah, the Shoe-Shirt, rule; How convenient.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know you only changed that because our new friend seems to have a problem with staying clothed.”
Yes, this was true, because at this current time, Jayce lacked a shirt and shoes. And yes, it was the reason the rule was thrown out. “I’m just trying to make him more comfortable-I also go rid of the music rule, so we can listen to what ever now. Even that punk-crap you listen to.”
“Hey, don’t diss my music. I don’t say anything when you’re over there belting out India Arie.” Chris checked the side-mirror and merged onto the South 2nd Street Exit, and looked for a gas station. “So, you still trying to get with Jayce?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t, because it’s a stupid idea. But it’s been a few hours, and you’ve had some time to think it over--”
“And I’m still going through with it.” Chris laughed at this and pulled into a BP. “I only told you to let you know. Not to get your input.”
“I’m just saying. You know nothing about this guy.” Chris stood at your window and pumped gas. “And, oh my God. You’re probably still a virgin.”
You blushed. What difference did that make anyway? Being a virgin was cool. “So?”
“You’re probably all filled with those delusional ‘When-he-sleeps-with-me-he’ll-fall-in-love-and-_not_-want-to-have-sex-with-anyone-else-ever-again’ thoughts.”
Truthfully, it didn’t even occur to you that Jayce possibly wouldn’t be joining you in San Francisco. Chris, either. You figured once you got there, you’d all stick together. “God, no. Chris, do I seem like I think something like that?”
“Well, as of this morning.”
You watched Chris go and pay for the gas, and then looked at Jayce through the rear-view mirror. You would discuss what would happen in San Francisco later.
-
“I always feel like I miss everything.” Jayce was awake now, but still stretched out in the back. “You guys don’t talk about anything interesting without me, right?”
“No, of course not.” Chris was looking for the next motel, comparing his surrounding with the TUCOT directions. “Um, guys… I’m not seein’ an Econo Lodge.”
“That’s not possible.” You had called every single place in the TUCOT folder and made reservations. Of course, you were 2 days behind schedule, but it’s not like many people visited Beclabito, New Mexico. “It’s probably further down the road.”
“We can all sleep in the car if we can’t find it.” You looked back at Jayce, who was sitting up now. “There’s enough room.”
“No, Jayce. It’s here. It has to be. I called them before I left,” you told him. “The place couldn’t just disappear. I talked to the clerk and everything.”
“Well, we’ve driven down this road three times, Justin. And I think the impossible has happened.” Chris pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a diner. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m still for sleeping in the car.”
“We have to shower, Jayce.” You cringed at the thought of being in the same place as Jayce without being clean-- and possibly not smelling good.
Jayce grabbed the TUCOT folder from the dash board and looked through it. “Look, Justin. There’s a motel in Teec Noc Pos, and another one in Sweetwater. We’re at the Arizona-New Mexico line; it’ll only take an hour or so to drive to Teec. We can take showers there.”
“Come on, Justin. That sounds like a good idea.” Chris reclined his seat. “I’m way too wiped to drive anymore.”
The idea was decent. You would just have wake up early, and drive to the motel before either of them woke up. “Fine-- Blankets are in the trunk, under my suitcase.”
-
During the sleeping arrangement negotiations, Chris decided that he should get the whole backseat and you and Jayce could share the trunk space. “I’m older, seniority rules.”
“It’s my car.” Not that you minded sharing confined space with Jayce, you just had to look like you did. “I think I should get the backseat.”
“Come on, Justin. Just let him have it.” He spread a blanket out on the trunk floor. “Cool people in the trunk.”
Chris laughed as he crawled into the backseat. “Uncomfortable people in the trunk-goodnight you two.”
You waved and then watched Jayce finish setting up the trunk. “You think we can both fit in there?” Even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t mind taking any measures necessary to fit.
“Yah, it’s a pretty decent sized space.” He moved to push himself up into the trunk. “I’m not even tired, are you?”
Yes, you were. Just from the stress of today. “No, not really.” This could possibly the perfect time to make your first move on him.
Jayce leaned against the trunk wall and pulled his bag into his lap. You could smell the weed from where you were standing. He pulled a few sticks from the bag and lit them simultaneously. “I haven’t burned in a while.” He blew the flames out, so smoke flowed from each stick. “I used to burn at least 6 a day.”
You moved to sit next to him, but coughed when you inhaled the smoke. “You can stand all of that smoke?”
“Yeah, it’s great.” He giggled, and you swooned somewhere inside. “Who needs weed?” You laughed and sat, breathing easier now. Feeling euphoric. “Why are you smiling so hard?” You looked at Jayce, who was grinning, too.
“I just feel good.” How could you not feel good right now?
“It’s the incense, isn’t it?” Jayce chuckled. “You inhale it for awhile, it starts having that effect.” He stretched and let his arms rest on the seat behind him.
Jayce smelled good. Like incense and cologne but also something else. Something only Jayce could smell like, and you unconsciously scooted closer.
“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” He whispers and your mind jumps back to where you are, your bodies brushing now on your sides and your arm practically in his lap but he doesn’t say anything so you do either.
“It is,” you whisper back and love the feel of the warmth coming from his body. You continue, “The sky is beautiful…” and don’t mention that the sky wasn’t the only thing beautiful out there that night. You want to, but you catch your tongue in time.
“Justin,” he says his voice breathy and close and you turned your head to find him inches away from you, “Justin,” he says again and that’s all you remember before his lips were on yours.
The kiss wasn’t a short, timid ‘first-time’ kiss. His tongue slips through your lips, and his fingers press at the base of your neck. The kiss is sweet, as was his mouth; Smooth, and addicting.
He had his hand half way underneath your shirt when you opened your eyes and saw lights flash through the car. He pulled back immediately, wiping his mouth. You both saw the station wagon pass slowly and merge on the interstate.
But it didn’t really matter now. The moment was completely blown to hell.
You looked over at him and saw him putting out the incense, purposely avoiding eye contact. You moved out of the trunk and dropped down onto the pavement, murmuring a quick, “Goodnight,” before retreating to the driver’s seat.
Your only chance, completely blown to fucking hell.
-
You woke up the next day. Pissed, unfulfilled. And then the car wouldn’t start. The engine turned. And turned again, but wouldn’t start. But, thankgod, it finally did, and you made it successfully to a hotel the next town over.
You got a room, left a room key inside of the car, and went to go take a shower. Hoping maybe that you could wash away last night’s incident. You were in the middle of drying your hair when you heard someone call, “Justin?” from the room.
“I’m in here.” You locked the door to the bathroom, just as the person in the room moved to open it.
“It’s Chris-how long are you going to be in there?”
“I’ll be out soon.”
When you finally step out of the bathroom, Chris stands from his seat by the door and moves past you, closing the door behind him. And, lucky you, Jayce is lying on the bed watching TV.
You thought about all of the ways to avoid this situation in the shower, and on the way here, but when you actually see him, you walk-almost run-to the door of the room.
“Hey, Justin.”
You stop and look back through the open door, and see Jayce making his way towards you. “Jayce.”
“I wanted to apologize for last night.” He closes the door behind him, and leans against it. You stand in front of him, still holding all of your dirty clothes.
“Oh… yeah.” What could you even say? “Um, it’s cool.”
“No, I mean. It isn’t.” He laughed and grabbed the door handle awkwardly. “The moment was good… and I kind of ruined it.”
Truthfully, “You didn’t, that car did.”
“But still.” Jayce shrugs and looks down at the floor. Wonderful-- because this situation wasn’t already too awkward.
You remember that you still have an out (the car), and say, “Hey, when you guys are ready… I’ll be out here.” You see him nod, and then you turn quickly. You had no idea what you were going to do in the time it would take them to get ready… but you figured the whole car probably needed rearranging.
-
“I think I missed something.” Chris is standing outside of your door. “Something big. And you have until Jayce is done to tell me what it is.”
“What makes you think you missed something?” You keep your eyes down, pretending to look for something in the glove compartment.
“Dude, look at me.” You glance at him, and then look back into the glove compartment, which induces an agitated groan from Chris. “When I came out the shower this morning, I came into the room, expecting Jayce to greet me with a ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, or even, ‘dude, Rugrats is on’… you know… usual joyful Jayce banter… but I got silence.”
“So?” You finally pull the car manual from the compartment, and say, “People get down sometimes.”
“Not Jayce. And then I find you out here… looking like something happened.”
You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat. “Last night. We had an awkward moment.”
“What kind of awkward moment?”
“We kissed, and then this car drives by, and fucks everything up. And he all… got weird and left.”
“God.” Chris chuckles. “That is awkward.” You nod, and think duh. “I suggest you both get over it, though. We’ve got a bit of road left, and I don’t need to be trapped between all this tension.”
“Thanks for the wonderful advice, Chris.”
“You’re very welcome.” He opens the car door. “Now move. I’m driving.”
-
Jayce was definitely acting different; noticeably. He didn’t say anything at all actually. Save the occasional short answer he gave when Chris asked him a question. You didn’t bother talking to him…though you couldn’t really think of a decent reason why you shouldn’t. Plus, you were currently engaged in an issue of Rolling Stone.
“Justin, don’t you think Jayce is acting weird?”
You glance into the rearview mirror, and see Jayce barely move his eyes in your direction, but you say, “Whatever.”
Chris hits you, and asks, “Jayce, you want to burn some incense or something?”
“What about The Rules?”
“Fuck them. Justin’s being antisocial, so his rules don’t matter.” You look at Chris and glare, but it goes unnoticed. He was busy lighting a stick Jayce had handed him. “I heard about what happened last night.”
“Oh, ok.”
“I think you guys should just make up. It would benefit the trip.” Chris snatched the magazine from your hands. “Plus, Justin here has been wanting to jump your bones since you got on board. So I’m not really understanding his attitude at all.”
Your eyes widened at the statement, and you hit him, hard, in the arm. “Chris! What the fuck?”
“What? It’s the truth. And I’m sure Jayce hasn’t been feeling too much different.”
“Well… clearly,” Jayce says.
So that was out now. Thanks to Chris. No taking it back. Maybe you could just open the car door, and roll to your death?
“Justin?”
“What?” You don’t even look up, and still contemplate how much damage would be done, hitting the pavement going 85 miles per hour.
“I already apologized and everything, dude.” You look into the rear view, and see that that statement was directed at Chris.
“Justin, stop being a dick.” Chris reaches between the seats, and grabs the TUCOT folder. “Your freakin’ cock-block attitude isn’t getting you anywhere.”
Jayce laughed at that, and you thought, fuck you, but then, shamefully, you thought his laugh it too fucking cute. The whole situation brought you to a virtual mental shutdown. This is probably what caused you to say, “No more cock-blockage, then. Jayce, I’m sorry for being an ass.”
And with that, all was relatively normal again, with only a few more miles of Route 64 to go, before you finally made it to your next stop: Kayenta, Arizona.
Kayenta kind of spells doom for you. In your head anyway, because this could possibly be it… the place where everything you supposedly wanted to do with Jayce could go down.
But you don’t think about it, not until you’re in Baby Rock, and Chris starts discussing sleeping arrangements for the motel in Kayenta, and makes some kind of sex joke that was most likely lame anyway. “You think we can get two rooms?” Chris laughs and winks at you and your lack of comfort sets in again.
//temp.pause.
My apologies for any stupid typos or grammer mistakes.
So, here is the whole story + the update.
When you tell them that you’re leaving, they don’t react with the vehement, “No,” that you expected; completely the opposite actually. Which wasn’t, in your mind, good, because the whole point of leaving on an unexpected road trip is to rebel. Go against what your parents say.
“Want me to run to Wal-Mart?” your mother says. “I can pick up some of those mini-things. Toothpaste, shampoo-“
“Aren’t you at all worried?” Maybe not worried, but, “Angry that I’m just taking off?”
Your mother regards you as a second priority, this weeks shopping list being the first. “No, you’re old enough. It’s about time.”
God, you think and decide not even to ask your father to try to conjure up some emotion about you leaving. You mother calls from the kitchen, saying she’s leaving for Wal-Mart. “Last chance,” she says. And you ask her to buy you a few bags of chips.
Your trip isn’t exactly the go-where-the-wind-takes-me thing you wanted it to be. You have directions to San Francisco (you know you have to go _there_, not just any random city in the West) that you got from Map Quest. And you know the trip should take exactly 35 hours, and 8 minutes, 2114 and a quarter miles from Millington, Tennessee. You have the trip scheduled down to the hour. Know where you’re going to stop, and _not_ going to stop; absolutely no stopping for hitchhikers.
You want to go to San Francisco, mainly because of the boys (or ‘bois’, a term you discovered in XY Magazine. The only remotely young, gay thing in Millington) that lived there. In all of their tanned, blond, California glory, they possess everything that the boys of Millington lacked. According to XY, California (San Francisco in particular) was the place to be if you were young and gay.
There were no gay people that you knew of in Millington. Non that were un-closeted, anyway. And your parents new that you were gay, but took long measures to make sure that you kept quiet about it. “We’re church-going people,” your father had said, “Its okay with us, Justin. But all of Millington don’t need to know.” And [almost] no one did. And that’s why you needed to get to San Francisco. It was the end of the school year, and you planned on staying until August (which didn’t fret your parents, either) and coming back a week before school began.
The only unplanned aspect of the whole thing (which from here on would be known as The Unofficial Coming Out Trip, or TUCOT, for short. It was on the folder with the directions) was where you were going to go when you got there. You had one offer, from someone online. His name was Andrew. He was fairly attractive, save his spiked red (not Raggedy-Ann, but Manic Panic) hair. He seemed safe, but the thought that maybe his picture could be fake loomed in the back of your mind. You told him you might still come, as a last resort.
You had your car. A new (thanks to your jobs at various stores in the mall) Jeep Liberty, gunmetal blue that you were incredibly proud of. Your bags were packed. You had your cell phone, some food, and most of your clothes packed in the trunk. There was room for extra, just in case you picked something up. You had money too. About 3000 in cash, again, thanks to your jobs; and maybe you’re parents, too.
The only qualm you father seemed to have, is that you were going alone. “Maybe you could get that boy Lance to come with ya,” he said at dinner. Lance ended his friendship with you at the beginning of senior year. He inevitably found out you were gay, and had a few (religious) issues with it. He gave you the whole speech about eternal damnation that night in your room. All you had done was stated that you found Usher ‘beyond adorable’ and had had a wicked crush on him since 6th grade. No big.
“Lance has plans already,” you say. You didn’t tell your parents about the loss of your one (and only) friend in Millington. It would disappoint them too much.
-
After a tear-less good-bye to your parents, you started the engine and pulled out of the drive-way. At you merged on to I-40 West from Warford Street, you thought that maybe TUCOT would have been a bigger deal in maybe 1976, and you weren’t so overly prepared.
You mother called when you were paying for a pack of gum and gas you had yet to pump on the interstate.
“Just calling to ask you want me to mail anything to the Motel 8 in Arkansas.” The way she spoke, sounded as if you weren’t nearly a thousand miles away from home, and just down the street at Walgreen’s.
“No thanks, mom.” You lowered your voice when you told her you loved her. A guy was sitting on the curb near your car, and you couldn’t very well let him hear you get all sappy like that. You flipped your phone shut and acknowledged him with a nod of your head.
“Where you headed?” he asks. He doesn’t sound like he’s from around here, nor does his voice even match the short, black-hair, goateed body it came out of.
“San Francisco.” You started pumping the gas, waiting for him to say something. He watches you and pulls out a cigarette. You only worry for a second that he could blow you all up with a drop of burning ash.
“You got enough room for a passenger in there?” Of course I do, you think. But then there’s the no hitchhiker rule. You can see the dark read letters you wrote it in screaming at you from the back of the TUCOT folder.
“I guess so.” The pump clicks and your tank is full. “How’d you get out here, anyway?” You see the bag that he has been sitting on when he stands and explains that some assholes that he was with thought it would be funny shit to take off when he was in the store paying for gas. He climbs into your passenger seat and throws his stuff in the back.
“I’m Chris, by the way.”
“Justin.” The no hitchhiker rule seemed stupid a few miles back anyway. And technically, Chris wasn’t a hitchhiker. He was a drop-off-ee.
“You got anything else to listen to?” You looked at Chris and then the CD player. The TUCOT soundtrack so far had been Usher, John Mayer (“I’ve been driving…”), The Roots, Nikka Costa, Michael Jackson, and India Arie. You didn’t have a problem with it.
“No, why?” He said that this music was too ‘la-dee-da’ and reached back to pull something out of his bag. You cringed when you saw your Michael Jackson CD hit the floor. He pressed play and selected his CD. Loud guitar blew through your sound system.
“Good Charlotte.” He grinned, content, and lay back in his now reclined seat.
You looked down at the TUCOT folder on the floor, and considered re-enforcing the no-hitchhiker rule.
-
You told Chris, when you arrived at the third scheduled Motel, things would have to change. He agreed and said he would start paying for gas and food. And the next room would be all his. And he would also learn to listen to music that wasn’t all hard edges.
“You have too many rules.” He pulled a somewhat clean shirt over his head and started to pack up his things. You did, but that was just how you operated. You wanted to tell him, that if you hadn’t planned, he wouldn’t even be here. But you just pulled your beanie on, and went to start the car, which issued a loudly-yelled, “Old man,” from of Chris. Who was actually the old man at 28 years old.
The car almost didn’t start, which scared the fucking hell out of you for a second, before you turned the key again. Just a few more states, you said to the empty car, don’t start fucking with me now.
Chris joined you a few minutes later, and decided that this was a good time to listen to The All-American Rejects. You begged to differ, but kept quiet and zoned out, putting yourself in driving-mode.
You saw more hitchhikers on the roadside, but in your head you made up the new rule, that hitchhikers were only to be picked up at scheduled stops, because Chris was beginning to bug you. (At the moment he was belting out his rendition of “Paper Heart”.)
You would find your next hitchhiker at the Mobil that you were scheduled to stop at between Oklahoma City, and Amarillo.
-
At the Texas-New Mexico Border, you stopped at a gas station. Chris insisted that it was your turn to pay for gas and went as far as to get the money out of your wallet for you, while he pumped. When you came back, another man stood near your car, talking to Chris.
“Who’s this?” The stranger, who you had only seen from behind so far, was dressed like what people in Millington would call a “hippie.” He wore a faded brown shirt, and equally faded, and dusty dark jeans, along with black flip-flops on his feet (toe-ring visible from where you were standing). His hair was longish, and you could see what looked like 6 bracelets around his wrist. He smelled of incense or something maybe you couldn’t describe because of your limited repertoire or Millington Smells. Chris shook his head no at the man before introducing him as Jayce.
The man then turned around. He looked at you closely, scrutinizing you with his sharp grey-blue eyes. San Francisco boys, you decided, even with their tanned, blond, _out_ selves, had nothing on Jayce. Maybe you would stay in Texas, or New Mexico, if this is what all of the boys looked like.
“Hey, you’re Justin.” He smiled, and his eyes got all slitty and crinkly. Like a bulldog, you thought.
“Yeah.” You wondered why he was here. At this deserted gas station. And what exactly was in the giant bag that hung at his side.
“Chris says you’re going to Cali. This true?” You nodded and he handed his bag to Chris, who opened the back door and threw it in. “He said you wouldn’t mind if I tagged along, as long as I paid my way.”
Of course you can tag along, free of charge, in fact, you thought. “Yeah, that’s fine.” Jayce grinned and gave you thumbs up before climbing into the back of the Liberty. “Lady, lady Liberty,” you heard him sing as you drove away from the pump.
Jayce had a lot to say, and felt at liberty to say it all at once. He told his whole life story through the first quarter of New Mexico. His family was in Maryland, and he had hitchhiked his way here. He sold incense (you were right) to make a living, “but obviously, that doesn’t bring home the bacon,” he stated. So underneath the scads of scented sticks and his clothing in that bag (which was made by his sister, you learned), was a large stash of marijuana. “I never smoke the stuff,” he said making a face, “I just supply it to those in need.”
Jayce had yet to cover what you were interested in. He hadn’t mentioned a significant other yet. You took the opportunity at the Motel that night, while Chris was asleep to ask him.
“God, I can’t even remember the last time I was with someone.” You sat on his bed next to him. “I think I was with someone back in Atlanta.”
“You think?”
“I think.” He stretched. “You know how it is, Justin-- Sometimes the other person is in a relationship.” Jayce pushed the blankets aside. “And you’re just there for the sex.”
-
You didn’t want to make it to San Francisco without sleeping with Jayce. You told this to Chris while you were brushing your teeth, and he was shaving. He nicked himself, and you spit out your toothpaste.
“Why would you want to do that?”
“Look at him.” You continued to brush and looked through the mirror, which reflected a peacefully sleeping Jayce. He doesn’t even snore, you thought. So prefect.
“You’re crazy.” Chris splashed Aqua Velva on his face and winced. “He’s a hippie, slutty, drifting drug dealer.” Which in your mind were all positive qualities. Hippies conserved, sluts were experienced, drifters had no baggage, and Jayce always had money. You counted these things off on your fingers, toothbrush in mouth, giving you a temporary speech impediment. “Justin, do you hear yourself?”
No, I don’t, you thought. He sounded like the old man he was. You say defiantly, “It’s my new goal.”
-
Chris was driving today, which gave you time to completely reevaluate [the already reevaluated] TUCOT. You threw pages two and three of the rules out of the window. One was still needed, to keep the car clean.
“Finally deciding to relax?” Chris kept his eyes on the road, but smiled. “It’s because of Jayce, isn’t it?”
“No.” Yes, it was, you thought. You eyed sleeping-Jayce, who was laying in the backseat. “I just realized some of the rules are a little too strict. Like, for example, rule number twenty-three.”
“Ah, the Shoe-Shirt, rule; How convenient.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know you only changed that because our new friend seems to have a problem with staying clothed.”
Yes, this was true, because at this current time, Jayce lacked a shirt and shoes. And yes, it was the reason the rule was thrown out. “I’m just trying to make him more comfortable-I also go rid of the music rule, so we can listen to what ever now. Even that punk-crap you listen to.”
“Hey, don’t diss my music. I don’t say anything when you’re over there belting out India Arie.” Chris checked the side-mirror and merged onto the South 2nd Street Exit, and looked for a gas station. “So, you still trying to get with Jayce?”
“Why do you care?”
“I don’t, because it’s a stupid idea. But it’s been a few hours, and you’ve had some time to think it over--”
“And I’m still going through with it.” Chris laughed at this and pulled into a BP. “I only told you to let you know. Not to get your input.”
“I’m just saying. You know nothing about this guy.” Chris stood at your window and pumped gas. “And, oh my God. You’re probably still a virgin.”
You blushed. What difference did that make anyway? Being a virgin was cool. “So?”
“You’re probably all filled with those delusional ‘When-he-sleeps-with-me-he’ll-fall-in-love-and-_not_-want-to-have-sex-with-anyone-else-ever-again’ thoughts.”
Truthfully, it didn’t even occur to you that Jayce possibly wouldn’t be joining you in San Francisco. Chris, either. You figured once you got there, you’d all stick together. “God, no. Chris, do I seem like I think something like that?”
“Well, as of this morning.”
You watched Chris go and pay for the gas, and then looked at Jayce through the rear-view mirror. You would discuss what would happen in San Francisco later.
-
“I always feel like I miss everything.” Jayce was awake now, but still stretched out in the back. “You guys don’t talk about anything interesting without me, right?”
“No, of course not.” Chris was looking for the next motel, comparing his surrounding with the TUCOT directions. “Um, guys… I’m not seein’ an Econo Lodge.”
“That’s not possible.” You had called every single place in the TUCOT folder and made reservations. Of course, you were 2 days behind schedule, but it’s not like many people visited Beclabito, New Mexico. “It’s probably further down the road.”
“We can all sleep in the car if we can’t find it.” You looked back at Jayce, who was sitting up now. “There’s enough room.”
“No, Jayce. It’s here. It has to be. I called them before I left,” you told him. “The place couldn’t just disappear. I talked to the clerk and everything.”
“Well, we’ve driven down this road three times, Justin. And I think the impossible has happened.” Chris pulled into the parking lot of what looked like a diner. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m still for sleeping in the car.”
“We have to shower, Jayce.” You cringed at the thought of being in the same place as Jayce without being clean-- and possibly not smelling good.
Jayce grabbed the TUCOT folder from the dash board and looked through it. “Look, Justin. There’s a motel in Teec Noc Pos, and another one in Sweetwater. We’re at the Arizona-New Mexico line; it’ll only take an hour or so to drive to Teec. We can take showers there.”
“Come on, Justin. That sounds like a good idea.” Chris reclined his seat. “I’m way too wiped to drive anymore.”
The idea was decent. You would just have wake up early, and drive to the motel before either of them woke up. “Fine-- Blankets are in the trunk, under my suitcase.”
-
During the sleeping arrangement negotiations, Chris decided that he should get the whole backseat and you and Jayce could share the trunk space. “I’m older, seniority rules.”
“It’s my car.” Not that you minded sharing confined space with Jayce, you just had to look like you did. “I think I should get the backseat.”
“Come on, Justin. Just let him have it.” He spread a blanket out on the trunk floor. “Cool people in the trunk.”
Chris laughed as he crawled into the backseat. “Uncomfortable people in the trunk-goodnight you two.”
You waved and then watched Jayce finish setting up the trunk. “You think we can both fit in there?” Even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t mind taking any measures necessary to fit.
“Yah, it’s a pretty decent sized space.” He moved to push himself up into the trunk. “I’m not even tired, are you?”
Yes, you were. Just from the stress of today. “No, not really.” This could possibly the perfect time to make your first move on him.
Jayce leaned against the trunk wall and pulled his bag into his lap. You could smell the weed from where you were standing. He pulled a few sticks from the bag and lit them simultaneously. “I haven’t burned in a while.” He blew the flames out, so smoke flowed from each stick. “I used to burn at least 6 a day.”
You moved to sit next to him, but coughed when you inhaled the smoke. “You can stand all of that smoke?”
“Yeah, it’s great.” He giggled, and you swooned somewhere inside. “Who needs weed?” You laughed and sat, breathing easier now. Feeling euphoric. “Why are you smiling so hard?” You looked at Jayce, who was grinning, too.
“I just feel good.” How could you not feel good right now?
“It’s the incense, isn’t it?” Jayce chuckled. “You inhale it for awhile, it starts having that effect.” He stretched and let his arms rest on the seat behind him.
Jayce smelled good. Like incense and cologne but also something else. Something only Jayce could smell like, and you unconsciously scooted closer.
“It’s beautiful out here, isn’t it?” He whispers and your mind jumps back to where you are, your bodies brushing now on your sides and your arm practically in his lap but he doesn’t say anything so you do either.
“It is,” you whisper back and love the feel of the warmth coming from his body. You continue, “The sky is beautiful…” and don’t mention that the sky wasn’t the only thing beautiful out there that night. You want to, but you catch your tongue in time.
“Justin,” he says his voice breathy and close and you turned your head to find him inches away from you, “Justin,” he says again and that’s all you remember before his lips were on yours.
The kiss wasn’t a short, timid ‘first-time’ kiss. His tongue slips through your lips, and his fingers press at the base of your neck. The kiss is sweet, as was his mouth; Smooth, and addicting.
He had his hand half way underneath your shirt when you opened your eyes and saw lights flash through the car. He pulled back immediately, wiping his mouth. You both saw the station wagon pass slowly and merge on the interstate.
But it didn’t really matter now. The moment was completely blown to hell.
You looked over at him and saw him putting out the incense, purposely avoiding eye contact. You moved out of the trunk and dropped down onto the pavement, murmuring a quick, “Goodnight,” before retreating to the driver’s seat.
Your only chance, completely blown to fucking hell.
-
You woke up the next day. Pissed, unfulfilled. And then the car wouldn’t start. The engine turned. And turned again, but wouldn’t start. But, thankgod, it finally did, and you made it successfully to a hotel the next town over.
You got a room, left a room key inside of the car, and went to go take a shower. Hoping maybe that you could wash away last night’s incident. You were in the middle of drying your hair when you heard someone call, “Justin?” from the room.
“I’m in here.” You locked the door to the bathroom, just as the person in the room moved to open it.
“It’s Chris-how long are you going to be in there?”
“I’ll be out soon.”
When you finally step out of the bathroom, Chris stands from his seat by the door and moves past you, closing the door behind him. And, lucky you, Jayce is lying on the bed watching TV.
You thought about all of the ways to avoid this situation in the shower, and on the way here, but when you actually see him, you walk-almost run-to the door of the room.
“Hey, Justin.”
You stop and look back through the open door, and see Jayce making his way towards you. “Jayce.”
“I wanted to apologize for last night.” He closes the door behind him, and leans against it. You stand in front of him, still holding all of your dirty clothes.
“Oh… yeah.” What could you even say? “Um, it’s cool.”
“No, I mean. It isn’t.” He laughed and grabbed the door handle awkwardly. “The moment was good… and I kind of ruined it.”
Truthfully, “You didn’t, that car did.”
“But still.” Jayce shrugs and looks down at the floor. Wonderful-- because this situation wasn’t already too awkward.
You remember that you still have an out (the car), and say, “Hey, when you guys are ready… I’ll be out here.” You see him nod, and then you turn quickly. You had no idea what you were going to do in the time it would take them to get ready… but you figured the whole car probably needed rearranging.
-
“I think I missed something.” Chris is standing outside of your door. “Something big. And you have until Jayce is done to tell me what it is.”
“What makes you think you missed something?” You keep your eyes down, pretending to look for something in the glove compartment.
“Dude, look at me.” You glance at him, and then look back into the glove compartment, which induces an agitated groan from Chris. “When I came out the shower this morning, I came into the room, expecting Jayce to greet me with a ‘hello’, ‘good morning’, or even, ‘dude, Rugrats is on’… you know… usual joyful Jayce banter… but I got silence.”
“So?” You finally pull the car manual from the compartment, and say, “People get down sometimes.”
“Not Jayce. And then I find you out here… looking like something happened.”
You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat. “Last night. We had an awkward moment.”
“What kind of awkward moment?”
“We kissed, and then this car drives by, and fucks everything up. And he all… got weird and left.”
“God.” Chris chuckles. “That is awkward.” You nod, and think duh. “I suggest you both get over it, though. We’ve got a bit of road left, and I don’t need to be trapped between all this tension.”
“Thanks for the wonderful advice, Chris.”
“You’re very welcome.” He opens the car door. “Now move. I’m driving.”
-
Jayce was definitely acting different; noticeably. He didn’t say anything at all actually. Save the occasional short answer he gave when Chris asked him a question. You didn’t bother talking to him…though you couldn’t really think of a decent reason why you shouldn’t. Plus, you were currently engaged in an issue of Rolling Stone.
“Justin, don’t you think Jayce is acting weird?”
You glance into the rearview mirror, and see Jayce barely move his eyes in your direction, but you say, “Whatever.”
Chris hits you, and asks, “Jayce, you want to burn some incense or something?”
“What about The Rules?”
“Fuck them. Justin’s being antisocial, so his rules don’t matter.” You look at Chris and glare, but it goes unnoticed. He was busy lighting a stick Jayce had handed him. “I heard about what happened last night.”
“Oh, ok.”
“I think you guys should just make up. It would benefit the trip.” Chris snatched the magazine from your hands. “Plus, Justin here has been wanting to jump your bones since you got on board. So I’m not really understanding his attitude at all.”
Your eyes widened at the statement, and you hit him, hard, in the arm. “Chris! What the fuck?”
“What? It’s the truth. And I’m sure Jayce hasn’t been feeling too much different.”
“Well… clearly,” Jayce says.
So that was out now. Thanks to Chris. No taking it back. Maybe you could just open the car door, and roll to your death?
“Justin?”
“What?” You don’t even look up, and still contemplate how much damage would be done, hitting the pavement going 85 miles per hour.
“I already apologized and everything, dude.” You look into the rear view, and see that that statement was directed at Chris.
“Justin, stop being a dick.” Chris reaches between the seats, and grabs the TUCOT folder. “Your freakin’ cock-block attitude isn’t getting you anywhere.”
Jayce laughed at that, and you thought, fuck you, but then, shamefully, you thought his laugh it too fucking cute. The whole situation brought you to a virtual mental shutdown. This is probably what caused you to say, “No more cock-blockage, then. Jayce, I’m sorry for being an ass.”
And with that, all was relatively normal again, with only a few more miles of Route 64 to go, before you finally made it to your next stop: Kayenta, Arizona.
Kayenta kind of spells doom for you. In your head anyway, because this could possibly be it… the place where everything you supposedly wanted to do with Jayce could go down.
But you don’t think about it, not until you’re in Baby Rock, and Chris starts discussing sleeping arrangements for the motel in Kayenta, and makes some kind of sex joke that was most likely lame anyway. “You think we can get two rooms?” Chris laughs and winks at you and your lack of comfort sets in again.
//temp.pause.
My apologies for any stupid typos or grammer mistakes.