Highway Residence --- Episode 01
The man with salt and pepper hair, and kind eyes walks in, the tone of the room gets darker and more somber. He usually enters with a sunnier disposition. She all but stands at attention at the sound of his footsteps, sitting up and scooting to the edge of her seat as he sits across from her behind his desk with a folder a good quarter inch filled.
"Well, Miss Jacobs, I have gotten the results of your test right here. And it's unfortunately the opposite from which we had hoped. The, the cancer has spread, and at this point with all the systems it's attacking, we cannot offer anything to stop it." He says softly, trying to deliver the news as softly as he can. "We are giving you about a year left Miss Jacobs, but we cannot be sure. These things are tricky, and well, unpredictable." He sighs softly. "We can offer you a nurse program that will come to your house and make sure you are as comfortable as possible during your decline, or we have a multitude of different live in hospices that you can choose from. Really we are here to support you until the end and make it as smooth as a transition as we can. Camille, we hare here to help." He offers a small but genuine smile as he closes the patient file in his hands.
As Camille hears the words come from the doctor, all she can do is laugh. A small chuckle at first but it quickly devolves into a boisterous cackle, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, oh man..that really sucks. Really fucking sucks." She stutters out from her laughter. "I uh, I have to go. I need to make some plans, and uh, hopefully I'll be around to pay the bill." She laughs awkwardly and rushes to grab her things, booking it to the exit. The smell of the hospital suddenly becomes nauseating, the lights blinding, and all the beeping sounds and voices over the intercom becomes a sensory overload. As she makes her way towards the exit, her long braids moving behind her, a nurse with a pleasant smile and a trickle of an accent stops her. "Well hey there Cami, gonna be ready for your next treatment soon? I picked up that new game for us and also got the next book in that series we were reading. I'm excited to see who she chooses for-" The happy nurse continues but all Camille can hear is a piercing ringing in her ears. "Uh, actually no, I don't think I'm going to be spending anymore time there due to the fact that I'm fucking terminal. So uh, thanks a ton, you've been great, and I'll text you about starting a book club." She says, a slight anger behind her usual dry wit. The nurses face falls and her eyes dampen. "Oh Cam, I'm guessing the meeting with Doctor B didn't go so well?" She fiddles with her name badge and right before shes about to speak, Camillie rushes past her towards the exit.
Once the cold fall air hits her face and lungs, Camille is finally able to catch up with her thoughts. She lights up a cigarette and takes a drag before making her way to her beat up old car. "You know, those will kill you kid." An elderly man shakes his head as he passes her and she looks at him, eyes wide for just a second before turning to her regular sarcastic smile. "Damn, do you think they will kill me faster than the cancer attacking my body? Well, here's hoping." She gives him a salute and takes another long drag.
Cami turns on her loudest playlist, and rolls her windows down, scream singing at the top of her lungs while she takes the scenic route home. The stay at home moms, taking their tots for a walk in luxury athleasuire wear shake their heads as she drives by and Cami can't help but laugh. In her old neighborhood, people's head wouldn't even turn unless it was gunshots, but ever since she first got sick, her parents insisted that she move back home. It sucked being her age and still having mommy and daddy around but their place is a lot nicer than her old apartment. Plus they fitted the garage into her own two story place with a private entrance, so it was a little bit like having her own place again. She thinks back on the decision, feeling a little bit guilty on how she handled it.
"Don't I have a say??" Cami sighs, exasperated at her parents making all these decisions in front of her. "I think it's stupid for you to waste all this money on remodeling just for me to check outta life in god knows how long. Save that shit for your retirement." She complains and her mom chokes up yet again. "Camilla! Stop, you know we don't like to hear you talk like that. It upsets your mother." Her father chastises and her mom shakes her head. "Cam, baby, you know we would do anything for you, and we think keeping you close to home is the best course of action. At least if something happens, we are right here and not 30 minutes away. Really its not a big deal, adding another floor, a bathroom, and a small kitchenette. No fuss. Grant your mother some peace of mind." The queen of guilt tripping.
As she pulls into the driveway, she sees both of her parents cars there.
"Great. Mom's either tracking my calendar again or Dr. B called them." She mutters, wipes her eyes and tries to make sure they can't tell she was crying. A deep breath and she dares to take a step inside. "Cammi, is that you?" A worried voice echoes down the hall. "Uh, yeah? Who else are you expecting?" She laughs softly and makes her way into the kitchen where she knows her dad will have coffee made. "Hey sweetheart, how'd it go?" Her dad asks, looking up from his work. "Oh ya know, still dying just like the rest of the world." She says, giving a vague answer. "Uhm, not much has changed. Actually...no change at all. And I've elected to stop going to treatment." She mutters, into her mug, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
"You....you what? Angel, I don't think thats-I mean, come on-you're-" Her mother starts to sputter out and Camilla puts her cup down. "Look, it's my choice to continue or not, and honestly, it's a waste of money and everybody's time. I don't want to lose all my hair, get even sicker and have them pump that shit into me until I barely look like myself and die anyways. I'm not going, and I- I think I need to take a trip." She says with a big bated breath.
"Why don't we plan a trip and talk about all our options, I don't think making a rash decision is the best way to-"
"No...I mean, thank you, but no. I need to take a solo trip. I have money saved, and I'm going to quit my job and just get out of here for a while. I promise to be safe, and I will call...and You guys just don't have to worry about me anymore okay? You've done more than enough and I can't...I can't do this to you guys anymore." She says, weighed down by a heavy feeling of guilt and sorrow.
"Honey, I don't think you've thought this through, we should all sit down and have a talk."
"No. No more talking about my options. No more mapping out my life month by month on a chance that I'll make it to see the next one. I'm going and that's that. I love you guys, and I appreciate everything you have done, but I have to do this for me. I...I feel tired. I need to take a nap." She tells them, as they exchange worried glances, and makes her way to her room.
When Camilla opens her eyes, it's dark outside. She slept much longer than intended but her parents never bother her on how much she sleeps. She trudges her way to the kitchen in the main house where her dad left her a plate from dinner. She eats it gratefully and washes her dish, looking around the dimly lit room. Waves of nostalgia hit her and she reaches for a pen and paper.
"If I don't do this now, I never will." She says, trying to give herself a bit of courage before writing her parents a letter and setting it down on the island. She heads back into her room and starts packing. A duffel bag and backpack should do for now. Anything else, she can leave in her car. She grabs all the essentials and her camera, packing away anything she might need into her sweet little rust bucket and driving off into the night.
She drives for about 6 hours, not sure of where she's even going before a continuous series of thuds hit her ears.
"No no no....come on. Don't do this to the cancer kid, you jerk..." She says, cursing Sky Daddy in her mind. She manages to pull into the parking lot of a small diner and gets out. "Yep....flat. FUCK." She cries in frustration and heads inside. "I never got that fucking spare." She mutters as she sits at the counter and orders a coffee. "I have to do this." She explains her whole entire situation to the waitress at the counter and after contemplating for about an hour she reaches for a quarter. "Okay, Heads I call the tow company and go back home. And Tails, I keep going no matter what." She says, determined to follow whatever the fates decide. Flip She catches the coin and looks down..Tails A smile slowly creeps onto her lips and she leaves the quarter on the counter. "Look, I'll send ya'll 20 bucks a month if I can keep my car in the lot." Touched by her story and perseverance, Jemma, the waitress shakes her head.
"Keep your money, go on your little adventure, and when you get back, my husband will have that new tire on for you and your oil changed. But you have to come back and tell me all about it, y'hear?" She gives Cammi a smile, a kiss on the cheek, and a to-go cup of coffee before the girl leaves her stool and makes her way down the desolate road.
-----
A violent sound of grinding gears startles Cohen and alerts him to the tendrils of fatigue that were wrapping around his body. The man chastises himself for skipping the fourteenth gear of his big-rig before correcting his engine's speed and locking the transmission properly. The highway he travels is long and nearly characterless in the plains of America's Midwest, and the mundanity laid before him is made worse by the sun's retreat below the horizon. He takes a deep breath and wipes his forehead, the pace of his heart slowing as he reattunes himself to the shifting pattern.
After another two hours of gliding between the lines, the jolt of adrenaline that roused him earlier had long since left his muscles and the sand-like grip on his eyes felt as though it had crept to his pupils. A large blue sign in his periphery offered him the salvation of a truck-stop, and he was quick to take note.
"Alright, time to call it," he voices through a yawn, shaking his head to rekindle his senses. Though he quickened his pace, the last mile before the treasured exit felt like an endless plod before he finally saw the arrow that pointed him to his destination, but when his eyes focused on the asphalt tributary ahead, he had to slam on his brakes and weave around a figure that appeared directly in the center of his high-beams.
"SHIT!" He screams, putting all his weight into the pedal before throwing the gearbox into neutral. Every hair on his body stood on end and he hardly has the sense to lay on the horn while the tires screech against the pavement in a frightening pitch. Though the ordeal lasted mere seconds, he was lurched into a state of high alert that made it feel like a lifetime. Finally, the truck skipped to a stop on the shoulder, and he thanked whatever deity in control that it was clear of any other drivers. He took a moment to assess his surroundings and assured himself that he had not crashed into anything, his breath and hands jittery as he locked the parking brakes and threw himself from the cab.
"HEY! WHAT THE HEL-- ARE YOU OKAY!?" Cohen screams into the black, looking for whoever he nearly hit. I missed 'em, right? He silently prays. Jogging alongside his truck, he glares in every direction hoping to find the figure and not a feint smear upon the road. Suddenly, the fact that he left all that he holds dear dangling in the ignition of the unguarded vehicle rips his anxiety into a new direction: he was alone, and he had no means to defend himself. Flashes of articles he read about road-tripping clobbered his thoughts; suddenly, he felt extremely vulnerable. Did I just kill someone? Am I about to be mugged? What will happen if there is more than one? What if I HIT someone? His mind races, but he doesn't stop moving into the cold and dark air.
"HELLO!?"
Comments
Post a Comment