Those words were enough for the man to start a profound monologue about his life. But I was happy with his chitchat. This way, I didn’t have to talk about myself and my dreadful life.
Brett stopped at sunrise when we reached Pendleton, Missouri. We would stay there for a few hours for him to get some sleep and restore his energy.
“Breakfast first. Then, we’ll find a nice motel with a huge bed, so that I can sleep properly,” he said, with a naughty grin. “I would offer to pay for you a room, but as I’m sure you would refuse, you can sleep in the truck. I guess you won’t feel dizzy if it’s parked.”
“That’s a great idea, thank you. And you’re right, of course, I won’t feel dizzy.”
“Great! This diner has the best breakfast in town. The coffee is to die for. I’m sure you’ll love it,” he said, as he entered a vast parking lot, just off the highway.
In the middle of the parking lot, there was a brightly lit diner, capable of serving over a hundred people at the same time. It was only seven in the morning, and the place was already crowded.
Brett found us a small table by the window, and a few moments later, a cheerful girl literally rolled down to our table. Looking around, I realized all the other waiters were also wearing roller skates.
“Good morning. What can I get you today?” she asked us.
“Please, bring us two house specials and keep the coffee coming,” Brett asked her with a smile.
“Two house specials coming right out,” she said, as she rolled away.
“That’s a good idea,” I said, pointing at the skates.
“Indeed… in a place as big as this one, it saves them time, and it’s not as tiring as walking,” Brett agreed.
The food he ordered arrived a few minutes later and I had to agree with him. It was the best breakfast I’d had in a long time.
Sleeping in the truck was quite comfortable. I had slept in far worse places since I left Daniel. So, having a comfy bed to sleep on was something I truly appreciated.
By nightfall, Brett and I had dinner, and we were back on the road. Before I knew it, we were arriving in Portland. It had been a long journey, but I had felt safe while it lasted, something I hadn't felt in years.
Brett drove into a small diner a few miles before the warehouse, where he was supposed to download whatever he was transporting in his truck.
“Well, kiddo… this is the end of the road. What are your plans?” Brett asked her, on their way out of the diner, after a copious breakfast.
“I’m not sure yet. I might go to Seattle or stay here for a while…” I replied with a faint smile, looking around.
Portland was a lot colder than I expected, but I would manage. I had lived in New York for most of my life, and cold weather was something I was used to.
“Do you have money to pay for a motel or to get to Seattle?” he asked, with a slight frown.
“I’ll be fine. You’ve done more than enough,” I assured him.
“Which translates to ‘no, I don’t have money,’” he stated, sounding worried.
“I had to leave all my belongings behind, and that includes most of the money I had saved,” I confessed, feeling a bit more than embarrassed.
He searched for something in his jacket's inner pockets. “Here… this is all my bank account info. You can use them to pay me back when you get a job,” he said, handing me a small piece of paper.
“Of course, I will.”
“I know you will… you’re that stubborn,” Brett said, scowling. “And with that clarified, I want you to have this, as well. It will help you for a couple of days until you get a job,” he added, giving her a small envelope.
I stared at the white envelope, guessing its contents while shaking my head. “No… you’ve helped me… more than enough…” I mumbled.
“Damn it, girl. It’s freezing cold here. You can’t sleep out on the streets, it will get you killed,” he grumbled. “Take the money. You’ll pay me back as soon as possible,” he insisted.
I wiped the tears rolling down my face and watched him slip the envelope into my pocket before he pulled me into a bearhug.
“Stay in touch, will you? I want to know about you,” he asked when he finally stepped aside.
