Chapter Text
Eddie’s body aches.
Everywhere.
It’d started in his toes—slowly turning numb from having to sit still for so long—then it spread to his knees, then his back; the rigidly straight angle of the driver’s seat digging uncomfortably into his spine, the engine of his truck sending vibrations all along his back, down to his ass and his thighs. All of which were well past the point of numb barely two hours into the drive. He figured he’d get used to it at some point.
But some point never came.
“Half an hour,” he murmurs to himself, watching the ETA on the GPS tick down minute by minute. Thirty minutes was a drop in the bucket compared to the last two days; it was nothing.
It’d been easy to forget to take breaks, to climb out of the cab and stretch; even when he stopped for gas, the clock in his brain immediately began ticking down the minutes that he was allotted himself to spend on things that weren’t getting to Los Angeles as quickly as possible. It wasn’t even like he was running behind; it was just… automatic.
Do the job the best he can in the quickest way possible.
He’d planned the stops perfectly, carefully mapping how just how far he could make it with the amount of mileage his truck would get. It’s a trip Eddie easily could’ve made in a single day if he tried hard enough, but it’d never be worth the chewing out that his abuela would give him the moment she learned what he’d done. Probably earning him a smack on the back of the head while she questioned what would’ve happened if he’d fallen asleep at the wheel.
Never mind that Eddie had driven for well over fifteen-hours straight when he’d had to.
Still, he thought it best to avoid her ire. So, he’d made a stop in Phoenix, getting a motel for the night, hardly sleeping a wink as he urged his brain to quiet itself; promising it that it was okay that he was stopping, that he’d make it to Los Angeles with more than enough time to spare.
The worst part was that he had been worn-out by the day. Exhausted even, his eyelids heavy and stinging, brain foggy and tired, his legs aching.
But Eddie’s mind had refused to quiet in the dark, the golden arches of the nearby McDonalds glowing through the window before he finally stood to close the black-out curtains. Every second spent there not sleeping was just another second that he could’ve been on the road, getting to his son, getting to their new home, his new job. But he knew that he needed to rest, so Eddie had forced himself, even turning to sleep on the bed backwards after a video on Instagram told him it’d help.
It didn’t.
In fact, he didn’t sleep until he packed his things and climbed back into the back seat of his truck, the noise of the nearby highway decent enough white noise that finally lulled him to restless sleep.
Chris has assured him that he’d be okay with abuela for a few days, that he’d be fine on the plane, that he’d stay on the phone the entire time that he was waiting for her to come and pick him up at arrivals, that he wouldn’t take any candy from strangers, or get into any white vans. That Eddie could trust him.
And he did. He does. It’s just other people that he doesn’t trust.
Besides, none of that had done a thing to alleviate the stress that came with knowing Chris was traveling by himself for the first time. What if he got lost? Boarded the wrong plane? Sure, El Paso to Los Angeles was a direct flight, but what if they accidentally bought Christopher's ticket for LAX and not Burbank? What if something went wrong and they needed to make an emergency landing in Vegas? Would he be okay? Would he know where to go? Who to talk to? What if the plane didn’t get to land, what if…
There was really no getting rid of the specific brand of anxiety that came with being a parent, but he at least thought that it might get easier to manage the older Chris got, the more independent he grew. Turns out that couldn’t be further from the truth.
His eyes stung when he opened them that morning—feeling even more tired than when he’d gone to bed, and needing far too long to remember where he actually was—eventually, he found the energy to lug himself to the same fast-food place he’d gotten dinner from the night before for a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, and too greasy hash browns that were both delicious and disgusting. And after one last stop to get gas and shitty gas station coffee near Joshua Tree, he’s officially less than half an hour away from his new city.
From his son.
Eddie flips the turn signal, pulling off on the next exit to merge onto another long extension of highway. Making his way around this long bend, the rest of the road finally comes into view.
And Eddie’s stomach sinks as he takes in the sea of red brake lights, what must be hundreds of cars that stretch on for as far as the eye can see.
“No… What the hell?” He says the words slowly, turning to the GPS on his phone in confusion, like this must be some kind of mistake. There’s not a hint of the traffic jam on the screen, the path in front of his arrow still colored blue. The arrow even keeps moving long after Eddie has come to a complete stop behind a white Prius, and after a few minutes, the GPS seems to stop, the loading symbol spinning for an unbearably long time as Eddie’s ETA ticks up, and up, and up.
And up.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” He grits his teeth, letting his head fall against the steering wheel, frightening himself when the horn goes off. Eddie waves an apology when he sees the driver of the Prius glaring at him through the rearview mirror.
It’s fine, it’s fine. It’s just another hour; it’s not like Eddie is days behind. There’s no need to panic about a problem that doesn’t exist yet. Then again, when was the last time Eddie’s brain bothered to listen to him?
The minutes tick hopelessly by as traffic remains at a complete standstill. Eventually, enough time passes from just sitting there that Eddie has to dig the phone charger out of his backpack, the sky finally starting to shift from a shade of soft cloudless blue to green and purple and orange as the sun begins to set and people climb out of their cars. Around the time the ETA climbs to three hours, the truck’s headlights turn on automatically.
Three hours.
All to go twenty more miles.
Abuela’s house is only another thirty minutes away too. He could’ve run, left the truck and the trailer behind and just gone to his son.
Reaching for his phone, Eddie thumbs over his last texts with Chris, tapping on his contact info, silently praying that he picks up as he presses the phone to his ear. It rings twice before Chris’ excitable voice comes through the receiver, lifting Eddie’s mood in an instant. “Dad!”
“Hey buddy!” Eddie can’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot.
“Where are you?” Chris immediately asks. “You said you were gonna be here hours ago.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m stuck in traffic right now,” Eddie tries his best to keep his annoyance with the situation at bay. There’s no reason to hint to Chris that there’s anything wrong. Not yet at least. “There must be a wreck or something, no other reason it’d be this bad.”
“Have you seen a car explode?”
“No,” Eddie laughs. “But there was a chopper floating around earlier,” he says, knowing exactly what a fourteen-year-old boy cares about.
“Wait!” Chris stresses, and Eddie hears some commotion on the other end of the line, then the sound of the television and flipping channels as Chris searches desperately for the newscast. “I found it! It doesn’t say anything about a wreck, just the jam.”
“Perfect,” Eddie lets his mask slip. This is all probably all thanks to two idiots who just needed to switch lanes. But there’s nothing he can do about it, he knows that. Still, it doesn’t make the truth any easier to swallow. “How was today? Do anything fun with abuela?” Eddie asks, not wanting to think about his current predicament and how he probably isn’t going to make it back to Chris at a reasonable hour tonight.
“Not really, we went shopping, grabbed some stuff for school, made dinner. Abuela got me this really ugly sweater. It’s got a rubber duck on it.”
In the distance, Eddie can hear his abuela let out a sharp “Hey! Mijo, what are you saying over there?”
“Do you think you’ll be here soon?” Chris asks, ignoring his great-grandmother.
Eddie feels his stomach sink to his ass. “I’m really trying, buddy. I promise. I’m going to do my best to get there tonight.”
Of course, it’s not like his best has ever been enough.
“Oh, hold on—” Chris voice suddenly cuts out. “I think abuela wants to talk to you.”
There’s noise on the other end as the phone exchanges hands. “Mijo? You still there?”
“Still here, abuela. How is everything?”
“Good, we just finished putting the leftovers up.” There’s a hint to her tone, like Eddie’s done something bad. “We made you a plate since you said you’d be here.” She lets the words hang there, as if she’s expecting Eddie to understand what she’s really asking him.
“Yeah… about that…” Eddie stares ahead at the miles and miles of taillights illuminating his path forward.
It’ll be so late by the time he gets to the house, and he’ll still need to unhitch the trailer with all of their belongings and take his truck over to abuela’s, just to grab Chris and come all the way back. And by then, it’ll be well past his bedtime, even if Eddie’s been letting him stay up a little later this summer. He can almost imagine abuela’s face perfectly, standing there in her kitchen, looking out the huge window into the backyard.
He’d tried this time. He’d really tried.
But it hadn’t mattered. It never does.
“I’ll break the news to him,” she says.
“No, no,” Eddie says, knowing what he needs to do as the parent. “Hand him the phone, I’ll let him know.”
“Dad!” Chris is so excited when he gets the phone back. “Do you think it’d be quicker if abuela and me met you at the house? Since you’re being so slow?”
It definitely would be, but would it even be worth it? With the sun gone, there’s no way Eddie’s going to bother doing any unpacking tonight, meaning that Chris will be stuck on the air mattress that Eddie packed just in case, in a mostly empty, mostly dark house.
“Can we, dad? I want to see the house.” Chris was already annoyed when Eddie didn’t take him to L.A. with him to check the house out the first time. But it’d just been easier to go by himself, especially after his parents insisted that they could watch him, it hadn’t felt like he had much of a choice.
“Sorry, bud…” Eddie swallows down his guilt. “I’m not seeing the end of this traffic.”
“I’m not going to see you tonight?” The disappointment in Chris’ voice shatters Eddie’s heart to pieces.
“Probably not tonight, no,” Eddie forces the words out. “But it’ll be okay—” he wants to say more, something that alleviate the anxiety that he can hear growing in Chris’ voice, but the words just don’t come naturally to him.
Shannon was always better at that sort of thing.
He’d love nothing more than to leave the truck on the shoulder of the freeway, sprint to his son, spend the night at abuela’s maybe, be around people that he knows and loves for a few hours. “I can still help tomorrow, right?” Chris asks.
“Don’t worry, you’re not getting out of this. We’ll need all hands-on deck to get everything inside.”
“I bet I can get more boxes into the house than you can.”
“I bet,” Eddie laughs, the sound more genuine this time.
“Can we have pizza?”
“With whatever you want on top.”
“Yes!” Chris cheers like he never gets to have pizza. “I’m going to remind you. You promised, don’t forget!”
“I won’t. Scout’s honor.”
There’s a beat of silence as Chris’ laughter finally quiets. It’s all too easy for Eddie to picture his expression sinking as he says, “I miss you, Dad.”
“I know, buddy. I miss you too.” It’s only been five days since he dropped Chris off at the airport. He’d even bought a cheap ticket to Dallas just so he could be with Chris right up until the moment he pre-boarded. Eddie hadn’t loved the idea of the ‘unaccompanied minor’ lanyard they gave Chris, it almost felt like some open invitation for trouble. But he’d managed to make it in one piece.
Now, Eddie just had to make it too. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I love you, try and get some sleep, alright?”
“I love you too, Dad.”
“Tell your abuela goodnight for me.”
“I will. Good night, Dad.”
“Night, buddy.”
Chris ends the call first, leaving his father sitting there alone, stuck in the middle of an ocean of vehicles. He lets out a soft sigh, staring at the road ahead, reclining as best he can, figuring that he might as well get comfortable.
# # #
Eddie feels nothing but exhaustion as he finally pulls up in front of the one-story Spanish style home located in Crestview. He’d been here just a few weeks before to look at the place for the very first time, do a thorough walk-through, make sure he wasn’t being taken advantage of by some skeevy landlord.
It wasn’t perfect. Eddie knew that sharing a single bathroom with a fourteen-year-old would be a recipe for disaster—one that’s only going to get worse with more time—and a lot of the kitchen appliances were pretty outdated, not that Eddie cooks all that often.
Still, he could feel that the place had promise.
Besides, it was fairly cheap.
For a moment, Eddie sits there in the driver’s seat, letting the truck idle as it settles in that he’s finally done moving. Well, there’s still an entire truck to unpack, but at least he’s done driving for the foreseeable future. He’d imagined the moment as something much bigger, finally arriving with all of their things; the end of a month’s long process to getting them here to Los Angeles.
So why does it feel so… anti-climactic.
Empty.
Because he knows that Chris should be here with him. Eagerly climbing out of the cab and racing up the short lawn to the front door so that he can claim his bedroom first. Shannon should be here too, next to him, excited to finally be back home. She probably would've gotten her own apartment, but she would've been here with Eddie.
Instead, he’s here alone.
With a heavy sigh Eddie cuts the engine and lets the driver door swing open. He’d thought ahead to pack his air mattress with him, so he doesn’t have to go digging around in the back of the trailer for something to sleep on. Lugging the box over his shoulder, he unhooks his keys from his belt, hunting in the darkness for the one that’ll open the front door.
It’s frigid inside, cold not just temperature wise, but the energy of the house feels… off. It’s dark as well, the only light the moon filtering in through the sliding glass doors that let out into the alleyway of a backyard.
To make himself feel better, he begins to imagine where their things are going to go. The couch will settle nicely in the middle of the open living area, T.V. tucked into the corner to prevent a glare during the day. There’s a dining room, something that Shannon had dreamed of having for years. Then he starts to picture the dining table littered Chris’ homework, placemats thrown to the side. He thinks about their shoes being left by the door, the sound of Chris’ video games or the music he plays too loudly muffled through his bedroom doors because he wants Eddie to know that he’s a moody teenager.
He thinks about what this place could actually look like, given the chance. Maybe it could be something special, something that resembles home. Maybe he can turn this into the kind of place that Shannon would’ve been proud of.
It's not much right now, but… it'll be perfect for the two of them.
Still, as he stands there, he can’t help but feel this absence, this longing for something that blooms slowly in his chest. He wishes that Shannon was here, she’d probably know what to say, what to do. And even if she didn’t, it’d be another person in this empty house.
But instead, it’s just him.
Alone.