Love Under Construction (The Love Under Series Book 1) (3 page)

I reviewed the spelling and information on my ticket. My name was spelled correctly and my date of birth, but Aubrey listed her address. I didn't give it a second thought because I used my passport card for ID anyways.

“Thank you, ma'am.”

“You're welcome. The coffee shop is open 24 hours if you want to sit and relax. Their coffee is good and the seats are a lot more comfortable than ours; their Wi-Fi is better too. Just stay away from the bagels.”

“Good to know.” Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I cross the waiting room to the awaiting coffee shop.

The older woman waitress that was setting up the coffee station with a fresh pot yelled across the space. “Sit anywhere. I'll be right with you.”

I took a seat in the rear, facing the door with my back to the wall. The table was set with two printed menu placemats and a couple rolled sets of silverware inside two plastic soda cups. I perused the menu and giggled to myself as I noticed every option offered a choice of toast or a bagel. No bagels. I had about an hour and a half until my bus boarded. While my ticket displayed all the stops along the way from there to Oklahoma City, I wasn't sure what those places would have to offer for food or drink during the brief stops, so I decided to eat for good measure.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, but I just put a fresh pot of coffee on if you're interested,” the waitress in her yellow T-shirt, khaki pants and yellow and white gingham pocketed apron said as she approached the table.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Milk or creamer? We don't leave them out at this time of night.”

“Black is fine. Just some Splenda if you have it.”

“There should be some in that bucket behind the ketchup,” she said, pointing to the organizer caddy against the wall at the far end of the table.

“If there isn't, just let me know, and I will refill it for you. Can I get you anything to eat?”

“Yes, I will take this Traveler's Special,” I said, pointing to the display picture of pancakes, eggs, hash browns, and sausage on the placemat.

“How do you like your eggs?” she asked as she scratched my order on her pad.

“Scrambled, please.”

“I have a 2 AM bus to catch.”

The waitress laughed. “We aren't exactly busy. You have plenty of time. Coming right up.”

She returned to the counter and ripped my order ticket from her pad before ringing the bell and screaming my order at the short order cook in rapid fire worthy of a competitive cooking shows like Master Chef which startled a snoozing patron three tables over, and he began to stir his coffee absently.

As I waited, I texted Aubrey. 

Me: At the bus station see you soon thanks Aubs-S.

I felt bad texting her even later into the night than before, but if I didn't wake her up, at least she would see that I made it.

I was surprised when my phone chirped a few seconds later.

Aubs: Thank God. You made it. Did you get your ticket?

Me: Yes. I'm just waiting to board and eating some early breakfast.

Aubs: Okay. Text me when you stop. Stay safe. Love you.

I felt bad impeding on Aubrey with my problems when she was just getting settled in her new life and marriage to Jonathan, but she was my best friend and the only person I knew outside of Dallas.

Sure, some people had gone away to college, gotten married and such, but most came back to the city, and those who didn’t, you just never heard from again. Ever.

No one could blame someone for getting on with their lives, but Aubrey stayed in touch after we graduated. I felt blessed that, unlike her, who ventured out on their own, that I had a friend to escape my hell and visit.

“Here you go, dear,” the waitress said, interrupting my thoughts. “Can I get you anything else? Freshen up your coffee?”

“I think I'm okay for now. Thanks. I don't want to drink too much coffee; I'm hoping to catch a little cat nap on some of this bus ride especially while it's dark outside.”

“Okay, just holler if you need anything.”

As the light of the rising sun found the break in the blackout curtains of my bedroom invading the darkness, I stretched my sore muscles, twisting the kinks out of my back. Remodeling the kitchen for Mrs. Jones on Watertower Street had taken its toll on my spine that week. Her old appliances and cast-iron sink weighed a ton, and to save the widow some money, I did all the demolition myself. I wanted to get the job done for the most part so that the kitchen would at least be usable by the time she got back from visiting her grandchildren in Texas. I preferred to do work on vacant or absent sites because people tend to flip out seeing demolition even though they're getting new beautiful items. 

I gave one last twist to my back and sat up on the edge of the bed when my snooze alarm went off on my phone. I grabbed my cell phone off the nightstand and found some tunes as I headed to the shower to get ready to start my day.

Seated in the speaker dock on the vanity, the electric guitar the heavy metal selection blared out of the speakers as I turned the hot water on full blast setting the shower head to a coarse massage. I ducked my head under the stream pulsating against my head and rubbed the disheveled spikes, loosening up the product in my hair. Usually, I didn't spike my hair during the week especially with a remodel job because I wore a hat anyway. Too much dust and dirt flying everywhere, there was no point of doing my hair. 

I grabbed the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner off the corner SpaceSaver shelf and poured a puddle in my hands. I worked the shampoo to a thick leather scrubbing my hair free of the heavy gel. My hair was starting to get longer, and when I spiked it, it stood a good three to four inches off of my head. I wasn't sure exactly how the two-in-one stuff worked, but I left it in awhile as I scrubbed my body just for good measure. Squirting some body wash onto my green loofah, I scoured my arms and chest, working my way down to my legs and feet until I was one big white mass of suds matching my head of shampoo.

I stuffed my head under the jet of hot water again, scrubbing my head free of suds, enjoying the water hot water beating on my neck and back as I finished rinsing off. One of these days, I would raise that showerhead higher so I wouldn't have to duck my had to rinse, but I kept telling myself I wouldn't be at my parents much longer. 

I was almost thirty years old, and I was still there.

I turned the faucet to the off position, opened the glass shower door grabbing the gray towel off the adjacent towel rack, and wrapped it around my waist. I swiped the mirror of its steam and checked my beard situation, rubbing at my cheeks. I supposed I could get away with the very low stubble until the next day. I didn't plan on seeing anyone. I didn't have any new consultations, and my only plan was to try and get as much of Mrs. Jones kitchen finished before Thursday and pass by Rob’s after work.

After brushing my teeth and running a brush through my hair, I went back to my bedroom to get dressed. I guess I didn't mind living at my parents. My dad was always at the bar, and my mom helped out most early evenings with the setup of the place, if not longer sometimes. They did their thing, and I worked long hours. Most of the time, I only saw them for coffee in the morning or on my way out the door on the weekends.

Getting dressed in my usual worn Levi's and polo shirt with my Brewer construction logo on it, I laced up my tan construction boots and headed downstairs to grab some coffee.

My mom was seated at the kitchen table with her coffee cup, half an English muffin, and the newspaper. It's kind of ridiculous to even call it a newspaper when it's only like six pages—it's really more like a newsletter. We lived in a small town, and if you waited long enough, as long as it took you to get from your house to town center by Walmart, I'm sure someone would tell you the happenings.

“Hey, Mom. Did I miss anything?”

She looked up from her paper, giving me a shake of her head. “You missed your father. He left early to receive a paper delivery.”

I chuckled. “They actually announced Dad’s paper delivery in that rag?”

Mom gave me a sideways glare before her scowled lips lifted at the corners into a grin. “Coffee is in the pot, smart aleck.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I grabbed my stainless steel thermos from the dish rack and filled it with coffee. I dumped two scoops of Splenda in and sealed it up. I shook it to mix it well as I gave my mom a kiss on the cheek on my way out.

“Don't wait up for me for dinner; I'm trying to get as much work done as possible before Mrs. Jones gets back.”

“I will leave the plate for you in the microwave.”

“Thanks, Mom. See you later.” I grabbed my keys off the hook and headed out the door to start my day.

After finishing my early breakfast, it wasn't long before I boarded my bus. I was headed to the middle of nowhere, middle America, what the hell was I thinking? O
h, yeah, I need to get the hell out of here and away from Bill
. The Greyhound went to Oklahoma City, and Aubs would have to pick me up from there then we still had another hour-and-forty-five-minute drive from there out to her house. 

I could have taken it all the way to Centerville, but it would have turned my already four-hour-and-change bus ride into an all-day event. It wasn't too bad of a trip, though, but the layovers were what made it so damn long. There was just no direct route. 

First stop would be Carrolton, TX and each stop was about forty-five minutes to an hour spaced apart. I sent a text to Aubs as I took my seat on the bus.

Me: Just boarded the bus. First stop= Carrolton. Going to charge my phone and try to sleep. Thank you for everything– Suzie

My phone was nearly dead, and I found my charger in my gym bag and plugged it into the outlet between the seats. I grabbed my hoodie and used it as a pillow against the window. I left all the day's stresses behind me as the bus pulled out on the parking lot and onto the highway. I had a long ride, and the drama would still be there later. I let exhaustion and waning adrenaline drag me under.

It was hard to get comfortable in those seats. While it was a newer bus and had the conveniences of Wi-Fi and electrical outlets, the seats were hard, molded foam, and I would have preferred an older bus that might have had more butts to break in the seats already. They were molded to be bucketed, and while if the bus was crowded that would be beneficial for everyone to have and maintain their little personal space, but when you wanted to stretch out and get comfy, there was nothing but lumps, seat belts, and awkwardly placed handles that reclined the seat. They didn’t truly recline, only a few inches, because even that would have helped, it was more like sitting at attention for inspection versus a normal seated posture.