****
Growing up on a quiet ranch in the middle of nowhere had been hard, especially after my mother passed away.
But I was a tough kid. I was able to pull through her demise and excel in high school, and by the time my stepfather had sold my mother’s ranch I was at the University of Arizona on a full scholarship. Thankfully my life in college was a world away from the dust and solitude of my early years, so much so that I’ve now come to conclude that going off to school was the best thing I could have done to finally put my bitter childhood behind me once and for all.
But a person can’t totally shut out their past, and today was one of those days where I had to face my past once again. Spring break was just around the corner; my roommate, Katrina, and some of my friends were driving across the border to go to San Carlos, Mexico, and I wanted to go with them. But I already agreed to go to Montana to visit my stepfather for spring break.
Don’t get me wrong: I loved my stepfather and was excited to see him. It was just that sometimes I couldn’t stop the old, painful memories from rising up again deep from within me whenever I spoke to him; that was really the only reason why I didn’t want to visit.
In any event, it was still a bit exciting to go to Montana because I’d never been there before, and because I'd be meeting a lot of his relatives for the first time. Of course, meeting a bunch of dyed-in-the-wool ranchers and old people sounded horribly dull compared to a week of fun in the sun in Mexico, but I knew I had to be a good girl and go. After all, that's who I was: reliable, dependable and studious. I wasn't in the habit of letting people down, and I wasn't about to start now.
"Hey Anna," Katrina said, poking her head into my room, "can I have the place tonight? Jason and I are going to...you know." She cocked her head and smiled wryly. Katrina was also a really good girl like me, even if she had been exploring her naughty side with what seemed like a whole string of boyfriends this year. I had planned on coming home late from the library and passing out after a hard night of studying, and this definitely threw a wrench into my plans. But I forced myself to smile and act excited for her.
"Thank you so much, Anna!" Katrina bubbled. "Hey, I’ve got to fly to Econ. See you later."
I sighed, leaning back in my bed, unable to read any more.
The night ended at my friend Whitney's house, watching a boring movie and trying not to feel depressed about the fact that Kat was having sex while I wasn’t. Sure, it was wonderful that I was a straight-A student and things were going great overall, but at the same time I knew I would never be skinny and hot like Katrina, and I knew boys would never like me the way they liked her.
"Whitney," I asked, adjusting my blanket and snuggling deeper into the couch, "do you think I'm fat?"
"No..." she answered, sounding a little confused. "You're just curvy. I wouldn't call you fat at all."
"It's because I'm so short," I pouted. "Every time I gain a little weight it's super obvious."
"Anna, give it a rest," Whitney practically snapped. "You're not fat."
"Okay," I relented, "just checking. I know there's a reason I don't have a boyfriend."
"Anna," Whitney said, sounding exasperated, "the reason you don't have a boyfriend is because you study all the damn time and you work at the bookstore. Every time we invite you to come do something with us you have to go to study; or in the case of spring break, go home to visit family. Stop trying to be so perfect."
Perfect? That was the last word I felt described me. "I'm not perfect," I frowned.
"Oh, Anna."
I decided to give it a rest. If there was an answer to my problem with boys and dating, it was obvious that Whitney didn't have it.
****
Driving to Montana was going to take a couple of days, and I was a little daunted by the idea of all that windshield time, alone. And it wouldn't help that every time one of my friends took a selfie at the beach my phone would notify me just how happy and thrilled everyone else was.
"Is that the last bag?" Whitney asked as she hefted a suitcase into the back of my Ford Ranger. It was my mother's old truck, and it had seen a lot of hard, dusty work. Now it was old and beaten up, and the idea of it making it all the way to Billings, Montana, seemed doubtful.
"Yeah, it's the last one," I lied. It wasn't, but Whitney seemed so exhausted and annoyed I thought I would let her go.
"Well have a wonderful time," Whitney chirped, pulling me in for a tight hug.
"You too," I said, all of a sudden not wanting to let her go, "I hope you have so much fun in Mexico."
"I'm sure Montana will be great," she said, squeezing me again. "Maybe you'll meet a hot cowboy or something."
"Yeah right."
After Whitney had driven away I walked back into my dorm, past the broken elevator and up six flights of stairs. I arrived at my room and grabbed my last two bags. One was a backpack that I'd kept from high school, when three outstanding students were chosen to go on an Outward Bound course. I strapped the thing on to me and grabbed my other bag, which was nothing more than a gigantic sack of dirty laundry, and headed down the stairs.
****
My second day of traveling felt even lonelier than the first. I could only listen to so much dub step until it felt like my head was going to explode, so I switched to country music. It helped me settle down, and somehow I felt like it fit the landscape. Montana was in fact beautiful, with endless rolling plains and snowcapped mountains. The only traffic was the occasional muddy pickup, and every time my old truck groaned over another mountain pass I was treated to yet another expansive, breathtaking vista.
I decided the only thing making me unhappy was my phone. After the thirtieth time my phone buzzed with another ecstatic group photo taken by the side of the ocean, I decided to delete my Facebook entirely.
Almost there--I was so excited.
It was about 11 am when I pulled off the back-road Google Maps told me to use as a shortcut and merged onto the freeway. I hit the gas and drove hard until my stomach growled, letting me know it was time for lunch; I pulled off at the first full-service tourist truck stop I saw, one of those huge ones with a restaurant, showers for truckers, tacky gift store, etc. I got out of my truck and walked stiffly across the parking lot. Cowboys were milling around their trucks, and the place was a hive of activity as big rigs pulled in from the highway while others took off.
It looked like I was the only female around, and I was suddenly self-conscious about how I was dressed: like a college girl on spring break, in a flimsy wife-beater over my bra and a pair of tiny short-shorts. I unconsciously smoothed my hair out as I made my way towards the sprawling complex.
"Hey darlin'," a handsome old cowboy said as I walked past him in the parking lot; I didn’t answer. Despite myself, I turned around to watch him saunter lazily over to his truck. His ass filled out his tight jeans nicely, and I stared until he pulled his wiry body up into the cab of his big 4x4.
He grinned when he saw me staring at him. He tipped his hat for a second before firing up the big diesel engine and speeding off in a cloud of dust and black smoke.
I stepped into the dark, loud building and oriented myself. I found the café I was looking for and headed towards it, conscious of all the male eyes on me. It was frightening and exciting, and by the time I got to my destination my heart was beating a little faster, and I felt the tingle of adrenaline electrifying my body.
There was a long line at the café counter, and I lined up at the end with a gaggle of smelly, bleary-eyed truckers.
"Hey there, little girl," one of them slurred at me. I was shocked when I smelled his breath in my face. He reeked like booze.