Roadside Assistance

She sat on the ground, leaning her back against the stationary bus tire, an empty shot glass in hand. As she watched a passing car on the otherwise vacant highway, a flash of headlight reflected off the mostly full bottle of tequila that sat beside her. Loud metallic banging echoed into the empty night at the rear of the bus, and kept her from hearing the footsteps in the dirt beside the road.

She looked up in surprise when a voice called her.

"Ma? What's going on?" Faith asked as she approached, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Are we there yet?"

Sylvia patted the ground beside her, inviting her daughter to sit. "Nope, the bus broke down. Bob's working on the engine now. Says it'll take a few hours."

"Oh, so that's what that noise was," the girl grumbled as she plopped down beside her mother, without an ounce of grace. "How far are we?"

The woman grinned and pointed to the not-too-distant city lights farther down the road.

"Oh, you're kidding me," Faith whined, "We're practically right there! And this piece of junk conks out now?" She knocked her fist against the steel side of the bus for emphasis.

Syl chuckled as she poured herself a second shot of tequila. "Yeah, pretty much."

"It would be faster if we just walked the rest of the way!"

"We could run it."

"What?" Faith glared at her mother, as the woman threw back her head and gulped down her drink. "Ma, how many of those have you had?"

"Just two, love," she replied as she inverted her shot glass and used it to cap the bottle. "Don't worry, I'm done." With a sigh, Syl sat back against the wheel.

They sat without speaking for a long time, watching random solitary cars zoom past and listening to the bus repairs since the banging seemed to have scared away all the crickets.

Faith interrupted the silence first.

"You still miss Uncle Cabot, don't you."

Sylvia gave a start, surprised by the question though her daughter's tone made it sound more like a statement of fact. "Excuse me?"

The girl shrugged, seemingly indifferent, and watched another car drive by. "I still hear you cry over him at night."

Her mother was silent for a long moment before she replied. "Yeah. Yeah, I do." She was surprised her voice didn't crack this time.

"Why?"

"I guess," she paused and shook her head. "It's because I still love him."

"Even though he's dead."

There was a pause in the banging at the rear. For a few minutes, the crickets returned before the bus driver started swearing and the banging resumed.

"Yeah. Even though he's dead."

Faith leaned back against the wheel, thinking before she responded. "Love is confusing. That makes no sense."

"It never does."

They sat in silence again, before Sylvia finally sighed, stood up and stretched. "So you wanna run the rest of the way to the city tonight?" She grinned, "It'll mean I won't have to wake you up for a morning jog."

"Well yeah, if you put it that way, Ma," Faith grinned back, willing to do it if it meant a chance to sleep in.

"Okay," Syl leaned down to pick up the bottle of tequila and shot glass, then nodded towards the rear of the bus. "Lemme just give this to Bob, then we'll put some mileage on our shoes."

Another car sped past, a sleek sportscar, and caught Faith's eye. "Hey, wait. Doesn't Uncle Neil drive a Lamborghnini?"

"Yeah, why?"

The girl pointed to the bright tail lights shrinking into the distance in the direction of the city. "Could that be him?"

Chuckling, Syl pulled out her cel phone and began to dial. "Well, there's only one way to find out."