[21]

Ubers Need Sleep too

A calm quietude had settled over the SUV. Coffees long since consumed, the travelers rode along in a relaxed silence. Whenever Skipper suggested he could turn on the radio, Wade insisted he didn't want to. He claimed it was because he wanted to listen to the night sounds, but that was only part of it. 

   "So how come you didn't go to film school?" Skipper murmured, turning to her side and observing him in the twilight, wrapping a blanket around herself. Before responding, he flashed his high beams at a passing driver who had theirs on, blinding him.

   "It's dumb, really."

   "Dumber than being an Uber? I think not," she smirked. 

   He raised an eyebrow. "Don't make fun of my job when you don't even have one."

   Inhaling deeply, Skipper held her breath and counted to ten before releasing it calmly, promising herself she wouldn't get mad at him. "I still wanna know."

   "Seriously?"

   "Duh," she rolled her eyes. 

   He sighed, dropped his head slightly and muttered, "I lost the motivation and confidence. Plus money wasn't really available to me and I wasn't in a position to take out a loan. Like I said, it's stupid."

   "I don't think it's stupid," she muttered. "But why film and not photography?"

   "It's hard to explain." Curtness was invading his gentle tone, and Skipper took that as a sign to stop asking questions. It seemed like a sensitive subject for him; she didn't feel like getting into an argument at the moment. 

   "You should sleep," he stated, when he realized she wasn't going to keep pestering him. "No point staying up all night."

   "Maybe staying up is on my bucket list," countered Skipper. She was smothering a yawn and it made her voice sound funny. 

   Wade smirked and playfully nudged her forehead before he realized what he was doing. "I doubt it. Cancer patients need their rest."

   "And Ubers don't?"

   "Look, I'll take a nap or something when we get there. I'm used to this." But his voice got kind of quiet as he said those final words, as if they weren't quite true. Even though it was dark, Skipper could see the exhaustion manifesting in dark circles around his eyes. 

   Sitting up, she peered ahead in the darkness and thought she'd spotted an exit. She turned and tapped Wade's wrist, nodding toward the exit. "Let's find a place to stop."

   "How about no? We already stopped to get coffee. If you want to make it to Mexico City by morning, we have to keep going."

   She blinked at him as though she couldn't believe it. It was an act, of course, merely to gauge his reaction. "Getting coffee was your idea, not mine."

   "Look, if you're trying to convince me to pull over and sleep, I'd rather not. I just drank two coffees and I feel fine. You should sleep so you aren't too tired to sightsee. And don't give me crap about being scared you'll die in your sleep."

   "You're so moody."

   "Only because you're difficult."

"No, I think it's because you don't get enough sleep."

"Please stop." 

Two words, and they were backed by more seriousness and poison than Skipper had ever heard from him. She nodded silently and sat back in her seat, leaning her head against the pillar by the window and staring out into the night. After awhile, Wade reached over to switch on the radio. He kept the volume moderate, but his preferred music never ceased to make Skipper's lip curl in contempt. She didn't understand how he could listen to it, or even how he could like it, for that matter. All she heard was noise, anger, pain. 

Then again...now that she knew a little about his life, maybe she did understand. Maybe he related to the words, the noise, the chaos. Maybe...maybe it made him feel less alone?

Observing him through the corner of her eye, she watched as he seemed to relax. In a way, he seemed phased out while simultaneously being focused and animated. 

"Is it too loud? You're staring at me funny."

"How would you know? Your eyes are on the road."

"That's what you think," he muttered with a quick eye roll that was easy to miss in the lowlight. "I can feel you staring," he said a bit more loudly. 

Skipper shrugged and pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and setting her chin on her knees. "It's not too loud."

"Don't lie to me when I know you hate this stuff."

"I'm not lying. It's fine. I think I understand...kinda...why you even like it."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Humor me."

   "It's because of what you went through, isn't it?" She didn't know how else to word the question, and sat there crossing her fingers that he wouldn't get upset. For a moment he looked rather disturbed, then utter coldness consumed his matter and he set his jaw firmly. That couldn't be good.

   After a few blistering moments of silence he turned the radio off and quietly ordered her to go to sleep.

   "I can't sleep, I need to use the restroom."

   "Seriously? Right now?"

   "Look, there's another exit. We can find a gas station and I can go."

   "I'll just pull over and you can go right there in the ditch," he glared. Any gentleness he'd displayed earlier was long gone; Skipper missed that part of him immediately. Why did he have to be so complex? Weren't women supposed to be the complex ones? Maybe everything she thought she knew about people wasn't true at all...

   "I am not going in a ditch!" She protested, shaking her thoughts aside. "It's dark!"

   "Exactly. No one will see you."

   "I refuse to go in a ditch."

   "I refuse to take another break."

   "Look, I know I didn't have to drink it but the coffee made me have to go, please just pull off and I promise to be quick."

   He cast a long, dull look at her. "How long can you hold it?"

   "Not much longer," she admitted, sheepish.

   "That bad, huh?" Both eyebrows raised, he shook his head and turned his focus back to the road. "Fine, I'll make a stop. But make it quick, okay? I prefer how open the roads are at night."

   She nodded in agreement, and kept quiet until he found a gas station. It was a bit of a dump and the people running the joint didn't look too reputable, so rather than remain in the vehicle like he'd planned, Wade chose to accompany Skipper inside the building just in case anyone gave her trouble. Patient but mostly existed, he waited outside the restroom for her to finish. His instincts were screaming at him because this place was clearly not okay, but it couldn't be helped. When nature calls, sometimes you don't have a choice where you answer.

   Skipper emerged looking relieved, and offered Wade a smile. He acknowledged her with a gruff nod and led her out of the building before the employees decided to be unruly. They made him uneasy in the way that gang members and drug abusers made him feel. He'd dealt with them in school and in a couple bad neighborhoods, so he was no stranger to such things. 

   Definitely not a place for a young lady like Skipper to be around, especially by herself. 

   Within no time they were back on the road. Skipper tried to sleep but couldn't; the silence had grown unbearable and she still felt quite awake. 

   "Do you have a set of earbuds or headphones I can borrow?" She asked softly. An idea had come to her; she could listen to some audio recordings of her mom's lullabies to help her drift off. Mom had made them specially for Skipper, for the times they had to be apart for many days at a time. It had been very beneficial, as it was almost as if her mother were really singing to her all those times.

   "Should be something in the glove box," Wade answered. "If not I've got a set in my pocket."

   She turned on her phone's flashlight and scoured the glove compartment, only to come up with nothing. Wade fished a tangled set of earbuds from one of his cargo pockets and handed them to her. 

   "Don't cover them in your earwax."

   "I'll make sure to leave you plenty." Smirking, she detangled them as best she could before plugging them in and leaning back to listen. Her mother's sweet voice filled her ears, and she promptly began to cry. Wade gripped the steering wheel, looking most annoyed. But he didn't say anything, just kept driving. Skipper turned her back on him and struggled to compose herself. All she could think was how her mother never got to see the beautiful beaches of Mexico. 

   The vehicle stopped moving. Wade leaned over and extracted one of the earbuds in a gentle motion. "What're you listening to?"

   "M-my mom," she stammered, a bit startled.

   Confusion teased one of his eyebrows upward. 

   "I have recordings of her singing lullabies," Skipper explained. "They help me sleep. Usually."

   "But not tonight, huh?"

   "I just...she never got to see this."

   "She sees it," he assured her. "All of it. She's probably super proud of you for making it this far. You're gonna cover all the territory she never did."

   "I hope so," she whispered. Wade dropped the earbud and leaned his own seat back, scrubbing his hands over his face.

   "I guess...maybe I'll just take a nap, if you don't mind. We're clearly not supposed to be driving all night."

   "Told you so," she rolled her eyes playfully. "Night time is for sleeping. You're not invincible."

   "Shut up," he grunted, reaching into the backseat for his own blanket and pillow. He got comfortable and closed his eyes; it didn't take long for him to fall asleep. 

   Skipper felt a little smug; that coffee wouldn't have kept him awake enough to drive, and she'd known that. Maybe  after some good  sleep, he'd be less moody. She didn't care how long it took to get to Mexico City so long as she was still healthy enough to enjoy traveling.

   She continued to listen to her mother's lullabies even into the wee morning hours.