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Someone behind me helped him up.The fluorescent glare of the street lights reflected off the puddles and bounced around in my head, making it spin. I vomited on the side of the road.Thirty-five minutes to jump. Fuck! Was there no way to turn off the godforsaken voice?A loud horn blared right next to me, making me hop onto the curb. A Greyhound bus was making its way westward. I remembered. It wasn’t too far from here.Thirty minutes to jump. The pain was pulsating now. It was as if someone was sitting on top of my head, hitting it periodically with a hammer. I struggled my way to the luggage storage next to the bus station. The night clerk, Jason or Mason, smiled at me before he saw the wet T-shirt plastered to my body and the wild look in my face.“Rough night?”Twenty-five minutes to jump. I leaned down on my knees and retched in reply.“Are you alright? Should I call 911?” He seemed genuinely concerned.“I’ll be fine. Could you get my bag, please? I am checking out.”He took my passcard. The sun was just beginning to rise. Billy was still in the same position as before. He must have sensed my morning stretch because he awoke realized where his hand was and yanked it away."Gail, I'm so sorry, I didn't know." Don't worry about; I sort of enjoyed waking up that way. Go out and get dressed; I'll be out shortly."He crawled back to the front seat, got his sneakers and clothes, and jumped out of the cab to dress. I reached over and grabbed my jeans, pulled them on, changed my tee-shirt, and pulled on my boots. I grabbed my jacket, opened the berth door, and climbed down to the ground."I'm going to get myself some coffee to go, do you want anything to drink?"Can you get me a coke?" No problem"Soon I was back; we climbed into the cab, started her up and headed back onto the Interstate. We would stop for breakfast just outside of Clinton, Oklahoma. At 5:30 in the morning, there was almost no traffic, other than the occasional eighteen-wheeler. If I had been by myself, I'd have.
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