The Last Trip

Roger fumbled with the loose dial, trying to find a station that would tune in fully. Everything came in as static but he knew eventually he would find a solid signal. He had never bothered to buy tapes, and now God knew they were almost impossible to come by an obsolescence kept alive only by old car stereos, because he loved the hopefulness of the radio. It was mostly all terrible but you never knew what was going to come on next and sometimes, if you listened long enough, you were rewarded by that one perfect foot stomping, thigh slapping, stick in your head nostalgia ride song. With tapes, no matter how good each song was, you always knew what to expect and after one listen you were condemned to live an endless loop. It was the same reason he loved his job driving truck. No matter how shitty each town or truck stop was, there was always the hope that the next one would be better, that the coffee would be hotter, the people friendlier. Without movement, hope died. Finally, the shoo bop of some 50’s doo wop group filled the cab and Roger put both hands back on the wheel.
The rain was coming down pretty heavily now and the sweep of the wipers against the blackness of the night road was starting to hypnotize him. It had been straight road for a while with very little traffic. It was time to pull off before he fell asleep at the wheel and kept driving forever. He spotted a green exit sign, blurry in the heavy rain, and cranked the wheel to the right. His shoulder howled in protest, a reminder that as much as he loved moving, his approaching retirement was long overdue. He dreaded the prospect. The cab of his truck was far more of a home than the dismal apartment he rented over the hardware store, but his company was forcing his hand. This was his last haul for them.
The truck stop was small, not one of the chains, but nonetheless familiar. He had stopped here before on a few runs. Even on the radio it was inevitable that eventually you’d hear the same song twice. He pulled the truck into an empty space and hopped out to stretch. His whole body creaked and groaned. He glanced at the diner. Coffee would be good but then he wouldn’t sleep for hours. Maybe pie. He shook the rain out of his graying hair and pushed open the glass door. “Hey hun” the woman called perfunctorily as he plopped himself at the counter. “What can I get for you?” He looked at the pie in the case. It was deflated and leaking gelatinous grey filling that he imagined must be apple. “Just coffee,” he sighed. She filled the white cup to the mustard yellow line, a line he had seen a thousand times in a thousand other diners. The coffee was hot but bitter and no amount of sugar changed that fact.
There was a paper on the counter and Roger scanned it idly. He didn’t bother checking the date; the news was pretty much the same every day and in every city and always equally irrelevant. But it was also comforting, a constant marker on the endless roads. He yawned. He might be able to sleep despite the coffee. The sounds of the rain would help. He threw some change down on the counter, figuring it had to be more than enough for one shitty cup of joe and headed back to his home on the road.
Back in the cab, he stuck the keys back in the ignition and turned them half way so he could listen to the radio. He peeled off his damp faded jeans right in the passenger seat, hoping no one walked past as he wrestled them down his bony hips. His shoulder groaned again. The music cut out and an announcer’s voice filled the air, thanking the listeners for tuning in to some combination of letters and numbers. Roger reached over to change the station when the announcer’s voice was replaced by a staticky silence. There was a hum and then another voice, deep and raspy, filled the airwaves. “Suffering from aches and pains? No longer able to move like you once were? Trust the power of Hathway mineral springs. Come visit us off the I 23.” Roger shook his head. His ex Sheryl had been big on this new age bull shit but he could never take it seriously, part of the reason they’d never been able to make a proper go of it. You’re not willing to believe in anything you can’t see, including feelings, she’d complained. He hadn’t argued. He turned off the radio and climbed into the sleeper.
In the morning, he woke as stiff as the bed slats. It took him a few minutes and several curses just to haul himself out of the narrow bed. He fried up some eggs and bacon on the electric griddle, filling the cab with the smell of grease. He ate breakfast right off the griddle. Everything swam in a layer of fat. Thank goodness cholesterol isn’t visible to the naked eye, he thought.
Back on the road, the station changed from sugary 50’s hits to a country station without too much distortion in the process. Roger hadn’t been a fan of country until he’s started driving truck but somehow there was something so right about flying down the road listening to Johnny Cash or Willie Guthrie. He didn’t care too much for the new crop of pop country but fortunately the station didn’t seem to be playing too much of that.
God he was sore though and now he had to piss. Sometimes he just used a bottle he kept especially for that occasion. He’d gotten pretty skilled at holding it while driving one handed, but lately between the stiffness of his body and the temperament of his prostate, that had proved to be messier than he cared to experience. It wasn’t always easy finding a place. With 18 wheels under you, it wasn’t like you could just pull off the side of the road and take a leak on the shoulder. The pressure in his bladder was getting worse. With great relief he spotted an exit sign and pulled off, cringing as his shoulder sang out in pain.
The rest area was deserted save for a family that was eating a packed lunch at one of the picnic tables. Roger wondered if this was their final destination or if they were on their way somewhere more exciting. He hoped for the latter. The rest are was a pretty depressing place for a family trip. He was reminded that soon his apartment would be a permanent final destination. With a deep sigh he forced a hot jet of urine into the urinal and shook the last few drops free.
When he got back to his truck, there was a folded flyer tucked under the wipers. He looked around, wondering who could have left it. The family was still deep in their egg salad and watermelon slices. The parking lot was vacant. He pulled it out ready to toss it aside but the bold letters caught his eye. It was an advert for Hathway springs, the same place he’d heard advertised on the radio the other day. He supposed it wasn’t that strange of a coincidence but still he was compelled to unfold the yellow flyer. He chuckled thinking of Sheryl watching over his shoulder. The flyer had a small map of the area with a giant star indicating the location of the spa. There was a bunch of mumbo jumbo about healing properties but the word FREE in capital letters caught his attention. He thought of his stiff body. Magical healing properties or no a soak in a hot spring would be nice, he thought. He glanced at the log book in the cab. Fuck it, he was on his own time now, this was his last trip, what were they going to do, fire him?
Having made the decision to go, Roger was strangely gleeful. It wasn’t the thought of the spa, he had no expectations of miracles, but rather the prospect of shirking his responsibilities, something he had never done in his 35 years as a driver. He peeled out of the parking lot and headed off in the direction of the giant star on the map. At the first turn, he pulled on to a dirt road and realized there was no way his truck was going to make it there. He looked at the map again. It was stupid but now that he had decided to go he was unwilling to give up the plan. If map on the flyer was to scale, the spa might be within walking distance. He contemplated a moment, letting the engine idle. He would walk for 30 minutes, he decided, and if he was not yet at the spa or at the very least noticeably near, he would head back to the truck. With some difficulty, he maneuvered his truck to the side of the dirt road. He would have to back up on to the main road on the way back but he would worry about that later. Besides, he knew how to handle his rig.
The ground was still damp from the night before but the air was warm and smelled of spring. Birds chirped. A squirrel darted across the road, which was becoming narrower by the step. Roger grinned. He had forgotten how peaceful it could be without the soft roar of wheels turning underneath. The way was flat and he was able to walk without paying too much attention to his steps. He paused every few minutes to consult the map and his watch. After about 20 minutes, he came to a wooden sign. It was caked in lichen and shaped like an arrow. It pointed to a smaller path and read “Hathway Springs”. Roger chuckled. Looks like its meant to be, he thought.
On the narrower path it was much darker as the trees hung over the sky blocking the sun. The air smelled of rich earth and decaying wood. The air was colder here and Roger shivered under his light jacket. Soon though the trees opened up again and he reached a clearing. In the near distance stood a well-maintained cabin that looked intentionally rustic. He shook his head. Got to play the part I suppose. There didn’t appear to be anyone around. He hadn’t spotted any cars at the foot of the path and there didn’t seem to be any access point here. Maybe they’re closed for the season, he thought, but then why the flyer?
He climbed up the steps onto the wrap around veranda and, without knocking, opened what he imagined was the front door. Inside was a high wooden front desk of the sort often found in quaint hotels. He peered around the darkened space. “Hello, anybody here?” he called. A back door opened and a beautiful raven haired woman carrying a load of towels appeared. “Oh hi,” she said surprised. Even in the dim light Roger was struck by the intensity of her gold-green eyes and the sharpness of her dark cheekbones. “Sorry, it’s been a bit slow lately. I haven’t really been expecting anyone. Guess maybe I shouldn’t mention that” she finished laughing. Roger smiled and shuffled in from where he was hovering in the doorway. “So, can I offer you a list of our services?” she enquired, adopting a more professional tone. “I was just mostly hoping to soak in the springs” Roger answered. “I got this flyer on my windshield. Says the first time’s free.” She maintained her smile but it tightened. She was obviously disappointed he wasn’t going to be a paying customer. Roger wanted her real smile to return. “Course I’d be happy to take a look at your other services.” Her smile became more genuine and she handed him a glossy brochure. “I recommend the massages. But of course I would seeing as how I give them,” she teased. Roger glanced at the price list. Definitely out of his budget. He looked back up. Her smile was hopeful and her breasts were phenomenal. “Sure, I’ll take an uhhh half hour…” he looked at her breasts again “uh make that an hour massage.” Her smile became huge and she clapped her hands excitedly. “Great. I just need to set up the room so go ahead and take a soak in the springs, they’re just out the back, and I’ll come get you when we’re all set.” Roger cleared his throat. “I uh…didn’t pack any swimming trunks.” He was rewarded with a playful smile. “Well, seeing as you’re our only guest at the moment, feel free to wear as little as you like. There are robes available to cover yourself as you get in and out.” Roger nodded his head, hoping the water would be cloudy enough to mask the massive hard on he was now sporting.
The view from the springs was astonishing. Mountains in one direction and forest in the other. As he eased himself into the hot water, Roger thought he might have found heaven. Leaning back on the smooth rock walls, Roger was amazed by how weightless he felt. He rotated his shoulders. There was a dull ache, but it was far away and impotent, like a phone ringing at the bottom of an overstuffed purse. He sighed with pleasure and slid down even further into the water. Above him, an eagle soared.
He must have fallen asleep because he was awoken by the sounds of footsteps. “The room’s ready” a voice called and he turned to see the beauty from the front desk standing behind him holding a robe open for him. “I promise I won’t look” she said turning her head. “Nothing but old man to see anyway” he replied a bit wistfully as he stepped out of the spring. She led him to a hut behind the main cabin. Inside, a massage table was set up. On the walls and counters around the bed was an assortment of incense holders, crystals, candles and stones. Just the sort of stuff Sheryl would have liked, he thought with more tenderness than he had felt in a while. The black haired beauty began to speak. “Ok, I’m going to leave the room for a moment,” she said “and you’re going to arrange yourself under the sheets on the table face down. Make yourself nice and comfortable.” He nodded. “But before you do that” she continued “You need to do something really important for me.” She handed him a small dark blue bottle with a stopper on top. “You need to put a few drops of under your nose and inhale deeply” she said very seriously. “This part is really important. It’s a fantastic essential oil. Really helps you relax so please promise you’ll do that first.” “I promise,” he said. He didn’t believe in that aromatherapy garbage but right now he would have promised just about anything to have this beautiful woman touch his old body.

* * *
White. Everything was white. His hands were white. They were amazing. The walls too. How were they so clean? The voices sounded white too. He looked to his right. They were white. The two women all in white. What were they saying?
“He’s a real special case that one. Hikers found him wandering in the woods almost completely naked. Seems someone slipped him some kind of psychotropic drug. Made him lose his will. They emptied out his bank account and turned him lose, probably hoping the elements would get to him. Poor soul can’t remember a thing. Cops only figured out who he was because they found his truck abandoned on the side of the road. But he seems happy enough. Everything surprises him. He’ll marvel at a pencil all day long if you let him.”
Poor guy, he thought. He looked at the wall again. Really it was so very white. You could put anything you wanted on that wall; it was so very full of hope.