Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume
window. I told him I'd try to be back for work Wednesday, but I didn't know. He told me to take the week— we were already closed Thursday— but I'd better have my shit together by Monday.
If I didn't have my shit together, I told him, I'd give him advance notice of said shit issues.
The muffins I'd bought were hard and the coffee long since cold. I hit the drive-through at Quikburger and got on the freeway. I plugged my phone in with the car charger and set it on speaker and called Mallory.
"I couldn't catch the bus but I have his itinerary," I told her when she answered. "Will you help me?"
"Well, I can't arrange roadblocks if that's what you're thinking."
"I need you on the internet. I want to read you some towns and I want travel times— I need to pick a place to try and talk to him. I want an hour of lead time at least."
"Are you kidding me? Lukas, don't you— no, you said you didn't have to work. But still. Taking off across the state because of a lovers' quarrel? I'm starting to think Alan's right and you've lost your mind!"
"Will you help, or do I need to stop and get an internet-capable phone?"
"Oh, I want in on this. Let me get to the Mug Shot and get coffee. I'll call you when I'm on Google Maps."
Twenty minutes later Mallory called me and we worked out a good place to meet him. I took a deep breath and told her the next thing I needed, and she squealed in my ear.
****
My hour almost wasn't enough, but in a little town called Delhi, I walked into a mostly empty diner and asked a waitress where the Greyhound passengers waited. She pointed at a door. "But you can't go in there without a ticket," she said.
"All right. May I buy a ticket?"
"Nope," she said, and walked away.
She was the only one on the floor. I went after her.
"Excuse me, ma'am, I'm not trying to be difficult. It's just there's someone on that bus I need to talk to before I lose him. I'm willing to buy a ticket."
"But you can't buy a ticket here," she growled, swiping a towel at a table. "We don't sell 'em. Got to get the tickets from Greyhound."
A big man appeared behind the counter. "Lori, this fellow bothering you?"
"Wants a Greyhound ticket so he can go in the waiting area and talk his boyfriend out of getting back on the bus." Lori rolled her eyes. "One of them."
"Aww, shame on you getting in the way of true love!" The guy smiled at me. "Go down to Bennie's, buy a ticket. Take you fifteen minutes. We can't let you by without it; if we don't follow Greyhound's rules we lose their business."
"His bus is leaving in twelve minutes," I said.
"Is he a skinny guy?" Lori asked. "Dyed black hair?"
"Yes!"
"Smoker," she told the man. He nodded and pointed.
"Go out the door and to the left," he told me. "Not the right, now— you come out by the bus drive and they'll toss you off the property. Go to the left, and don't fall down the hill. Follow the wall till you come to the fence. You can talk to him through it."
I trotted out the door, but had to slow to a creep when I went around the corner. The guy wasn't kidding about falling down the hill. The ground fell away maybe six inches from the building's foundation, dropping steeply to a river far below. I kept my hand on the wall and wished for my climbing gear, then I came to a chain link fence and at least I could hold onto that.
And I could see Alan. He stood maybe fifteen feet away, with his back to me and a cigarette in his hand. Everything I'd meant to say flew out of my brain, and I swear a clock appeared above his head, counting down the minutes until he got back on the bus and maybe this time he'd find a way to lose me more thoroughly.
Before I could speak, he turned. His eyes widened then he dropped his face into his hand. "Oh my fucking god."
"I love you," I said. "Will it help if I shout it for everyone to hear?"
"There's five manly men in hearing range," he said, nodding at the people working around the bus, "and you're on the safe side of the fence. Please don't." He shook his head and walked over to me. "Lukas. What are you doing ?"
"I told you that I don't start things I don't intend to finish," I said, drinking him in like it had been years since I saw him. I felt like it had. His eyeliner was smeared, but his lips sparkled. So did the end of the cigarette. The ground sloped away under my feet, so I was looking up at him by a fraction of an inch. "You are completely and utterly wrong, Alan Lumina Lacroix, and I am not losing you because of it. I asked
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