He gripped the wheels of his truck and stared into the dark. The road beneath him was a conveyer belt of flickering white lines and black nothings. The countryside had been swallowed up in the void and he was a simple island of light, moving along in a silent world. This kind of driving was peaceful but lonely, but he liked that because it let him think. He spontaneously remembered overhearing half of a phone conversation while hiding in the hallway one night, ten years ago, when his mother was still around. She was on the phone with someone, probably one of her friends but he didn’t know what she considered a friend. At the time, a friend was anyone she invited into the house and he never saw most of those guys again. That’s kind of what you get when you don’t have a dad.

“Yeah it’s next week,” she was saying in a slurred mumble. “Something like that. He’s finally turning 18.”

There was a pause. It didn’t take much to realize she was talking about him, her son, whose birthday was on Tuesday. He’d thought she wouldn’t remember.

“Then he’s an adult and he’ll be able to take charge of the rest of these fuckin’ kids.”

He didn’t remember the rest of the conversation, but he did remember that next Tuesday. He came home from school, the funny party hat his class had given him for fun still on his head, and the house was unlocked. No signs of forced entry, just an unlocked door. His younger sisters were still inside, watching TV and playing with their whatevers.

“Where’s Mom?” he asked, setting his stuff down on the couch and looking around. Nothing else seemed out of place. Mom was usually home with the girls.

“She went out,” Greela answered absently. Her eyes were still glued to Gorgort Gorgs. He had outgrown that stuff but she liked the zany characters in that show.

Mom did indeed go out, and she never came back.

He blinked, and the road came back into focus. He might as well not have gone anywhere as far as he could tell. The darkness was consuming his thoughts. He never liked to listen to music or audio books while on road trips. They felt like a waste of the opportunity to really be with yourself and let whatever comes come. Music was beside the point.

“Where am I going?” he whispered to himself. He didn’t actually know this time. He usually took these trips to figure something out. He was off work for the next six weeks so there was nothing to worry about there. He reached back and felt for Brifter’s sleeping form behind him, scratching him gently behind the ears. He was an old fella, really pushing it lately. Next week he’d turn 18.