He pulled off the freeway to look for a bar. A place with people, conversation. The canned emptiness of the radio no longer comforted him. He wanted to sit in smoky darkness, watch a ball game, drink a beer and let humanity wash over him.
But the bar he entered was empty. It was just ten o'clock.
``Where is everyone?'' he asked the bartender. A surly, heavy woman.
``Got work tomorrow.''
``Ah.''
The bartender stood as far away from him as possible. She wiped at the counter and looked at her watch. No conversation there.
``So when do you close?''
``When the last customer leaves. When the last customer leaves after ten o'clock.''
``Ah. Can I smoke?''
``Don't breathe it my way.'' She turned her back and lifted a plastic jar of jerky to wipe under it.
``Are you always so upbeat?''
``You want to finish your beer and leave?''
``Sorry. Sorry. I just felt like I needed to talk and - ''
``Yeah right.''
``I've got three hundred miles to go but I don't want to get home til early morning. I want to see my wife, my kid, before they leave, but I don't want to wake them. I've been on the road a while. I want things to be good.''
The bartender allowed herself a sneer. ``You don't want to know who's keeping your side of the bed warm?'' She stared at him with her lustreless eyes.
``Its not like that. We're not like that.''
``Oh sure. What if I was some hot looking young chick and you came in here and you found me all alone and willing. You wouldn't try nothing?''
``I wouldn't try nothing.''
``Have a nice night,'' she called as he left.
He took the U.S. Highway instead of the Interstate. Gave himself time to look at the schools and courthouses of unknown towns, to see their war memorials under trees that no one had thought would grow so tall. He saw the break up of a soft ball game. A handful of people under the lights. He saw the lights go out at Wendy's.
He stopped for gas and coffee at a place with an all night Subway. He sat at a table and watched two young Mexicans eat meatball sandwiches. He thought of his wife. Sunday school teacher and school volunteer. Arranger of more showers than any one on earth. Last was a first time grandmother shower. Sweetness personified. And that woman had dared to say - not knowing her - had dared to say that his beloved wife might be unfaithful.
But it started to chew at him. Perhaps it would be a good idea to return while they still slept. To slip into bed beside her without her waking. So warm. So dear. If the dog didn't bark. If there wasn't somebody else there already which of course there wasn't except - except - these things happen. You read about them. People get killed. Gun under the mattress. Even if there was no one. Just if he slipped in the room she might shoot. NO. Stop. He was getting carried away.
He couldn't help it. He was frantic. He had to get home. Had to find out. Had to know. He got back on the freeway, into the fast lane, passing long lines of trucks taking advantage of the night.