The rain came and snarled the traffic. There was no horizon, just a shroud of gray, from which poured enough rain to remind Duncan of summer holidays back home in Scotland. By mid-afternoon he was bored of driving, and found a hotel in Downtown, Cleveland.
He took in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, staring at disk after disk in precious metal, guitars, programs, garments. Songs popped and played, his head reverberated with a thousand tunes he’d known for years, which lived inside him, and were the soundtrack to life.
By the time he finished in the Hall of Fame the last week was almost forgotten. Tomorrow would be new, fresh, and a good night’s sleep the propagator for it. But now he needed food, a good, thick, steak. It was early to eat, only a little after four, but a leisurely meal and early night was appealing.
He was cutting slices from a slab of meat the size of a small car, perfectly charred on the outside while vibrantly pink inside, when his phone chirped. Gina. His chewing slowed while he contemplated the call. The sensible thing was to let it ring out, cut the cord, but… 'Hi, Gina.'
'Duncan?' She was sobbing, garbled his name.
Duncan swallowed the last bite of steak in his mouth. 'What’s up?' The restaurant had been quiet, a gentle murmur of voices from the few patrons scattered about. Suddenly music blared out. Gina was speaking, but he couldn’t hear what she said. 'Hold on,' he shouted into the phone. 'I’m going outside.'
He stood, waved at his waitress to let her know he wasn’t finished, and pushed through the doors out into the street. Rain was still falling, and a steady stream of traffic hissed along the wet roadway. It was still quieter than inside.
'Gina, sorry. Are you still there? What’s happened?'
'Sorry. I’ve disturbed you.' Her voice was still full of emotion, but steadier, the sobbing under control.
'No, it’s fine. What’s up? Aren’t you meant to be flying by now?'
'In an hour. I’m at the airport.'
'Listen, if your boss has come on to you just leave. Get a taxi home.'
'It’s Liam.'
'An accident?'
'He’s dumped me. For Jake.' The sobbing began again
Duncan said nothing, trying to work through what had just been said. He hadn’t thought Liam’s commitment to be strong, but this was out-with anything he’d considered. A relationship your invested in ending with no warning is a trauma itself; for your partner to swap you for a younger sibling was cruel, and for them to be of the opposite sex must hit more.
'Tell me what happened.'
'I don’t think I can.'
'Yes, you can, you must. Lay it out, tell me how it happened. It’ll help to deal with it.' A grief counsellor had taken Duncan through this process a few weeks after Barbara’s death. It had been hard to do, but that night was his first uninterrupted night sleep since the week before she died. 'When did he tell you?'
'In the drop off carpark. He’d been quiet driving out. I said, ‘See you Sunday night’ because he was meant to pick me up. He said-' A huge gulp of breath, and broken by barely controlled sobs, she continued. '‘No. It’s over.’ When I asked why he said he was with someone else. I thought he meant someone from work, or online, and asked who. He just stared ahead, saying nothing. For a moment I was guessing Diane, and wondering how she could do that to me. Then he just said, ‘It’s Jake’.' The sobs eased up a little. 'I didn’t even get it at first. Asked him who she was, some slut from work, or a swipe-right tart he’d picked up. That’s when he turned and looked at me for the first time. ‘Jake, your brother’. I just got out the car, took my case from the trunk, and went into the terminal. I was on automatic. Then my boss asked if I was nervous about flying, because I looked pale. That’s when the crying started.' She sniffed a couple of times.
'Who’s coming to pick you up?'
'What do you mean?'
'You’re going home, aren’t you?'
'Oh, no! I couldn’t do that. They need me at the show. There’s only four of us.'
'You should go home. Let your folks look after you.'
'No, I just needed to talk it through. And I need to work. A couple of twelve hour days on my feet are just the ticket.' The muffled sound of an airport tannoy echoed on the line. 'That’s our flight. I’ve got to go. Thanks. You’re a life saver.'
She hung up. Duncan put his phone in a pocket and stared at the line of traffic getting steadily heavier as the lucky ones got out of the office early for the weekend.
Tulsa. He knew it was in Oklahoma. But where was that in relation to Cleveland, Ohio? Diagonally across to the middle somewhere. Even after driving most of the I-90 the scale of the U.S. compared to the U.K. was difficult to grasp. He took his phone out and keyed in the destination on a route app. Over nine-hundred and fifty miles. Interstate Seventy-One to Columbus, the Seventy to near St Louis, the Forty-four into Tulsa. It was a three day journey at a relaxed pace, two days at the sort of pace he’d done Seattle to Chicago. The app suggested it was nearly a fourteen hour drive in current traffic conditions.
He went back in to his steak. The music seemed louder. The bar area was busier, the tables filling up. Downtown, Cleveland was coming to Friday night life. The waitress passed the table, checking things were still okay, did he want the steak heated up?
Duncan shook his head, and she turned to go. 'Wait, excuse me,' he said, the decision made subconsciously. She turned back. 'Could I get this boxed up to take? In fact, could I get the steak sliced into a couple of ciabbata with some salad? I’ve suddenly got a long road trip ahead of me.' He smiled, apologetically.
'Sure, I’ll get that for you. It’ll be a few minutes, you want anything while you wait?'
'Just the check.'
By the time he’d checked out the hotel, filled the car with gas, and bought a few energy drinks, it was after six. Rain was still falling, and Cleveland shone danknly from streetlights reflecting off damp streets and buildings. Swinging onto the freeway moved the city away, distancing it from him, inoculating him from the immediacy of people who would surely decry the stupidity of his actions.
He grinned, and eased the gas-pedal down to slide past a trailer-less rig. The trucker yanked on his air-horn, saluting a beast of the road about to engage in a full night of feasting. Duncan flicked hazard lights in recognition, and headed into the dark
*text and image by stuartcturnbull. image formed in [openart.ai](https://openart.ai/@jellyfish_memorable_5)*
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