The Guilt Trip [slow updates]

[21] Ubers Need Sleep Too

A calm quietude had settled over the SUV. Coffees long since consumed, the travelers rode along in a relaxed silence. Whenever Skipper suggested he could turn on the radio, Wade insisted he didn't want to. He claimed it was because he wanted to listen to the night sounds, but that was only part of it.

"So how come you didn't go to film school?" Skipper murmured, turning to her side and observing him in the twilight, wrapping a blanket around herself. Before responding, he flashed his high beams at a passing driver who had theirs on, blinding him.

"It's dumb, really."

"Dumber than being an Uber? I think not," she smirked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't make fun of my job when you don't even have one."

Inhaling deeply, Skipper held her breath and counted to ten before releasing it calmly, promising herself she wouldn't get mad at him. "I still wanna know."

"Seriously?"

"Duh," she rolled her eyes.

He sighed, dropped his head slightly and muttered, "I lost the motivation and confidence. Plus money wasn't really available to me and I wasn't in a position to take out a loan. Like I said, it's stupid."

"I don't think it's stupid," she muttered. "But why film and not photography?"

"It's hard to explain." Curtness was invading his gentle tone, and Skipper took that as a sign to stop asking questions. It seemed like a sensitive subject for him; she didn't feel like getting into an argument at the moment.

"You should sleep," he stated, when he realized she wasn't going to keep pestering him. "No point staying up all night."

"Maybe staying up is on my bucket list," countered Skipper. She was smothering a yawn and it made her voice sound funny.

Wade smirked and playfully nudged her forehead before he realized what he was doing. "I doubt it. Cancer patients need their rest."

"And Ubers don't?"

"Look, I'll take a nap or something when we get there. I'm used to this." But his voice got kind of quiet as he said those final words, as if they weren't quite true. Even though it was dark, Skipper could see the exhaustion manifesting in dark circles around his eyes.

Sitting up, she peered ahead in the darkness and thought she'd spotted an exit. She turned and tapped Wade's wrist, nodding toward the exit. "Let's find a place to stop."

"How about no? We already stopped to get coffee. If you want to make it to Mexico City by morning, we have to keep going."

She blinked at him as though she couldn't believe it. It was an act, of course, merely to gauge his reaction. "Getting coffee was your idea, not mine."

"Look, if you're trying to convince me to pull over and sleep, I'd rather not. I just drank two coffees and I feel fine. You should sleep so you aren't too tired to sightsee. And don't give me crap about being scared you'll die in your sleep."

"You're so moody."

"Only because you're difficult."

   "No, I think it's because you don't get enough sleep."

   "Please stop."

   Two words, and they were backed by more seriousness and poison than Skipper had ever heard from him. She nodded silently and sat back in her seat, leaning her head against the pillar by the window and staring out into the night. After awhile, Wade reached over to switch on the radio. He kept the volume moderate, but his preferred music never ceased to make Skipper's lip curl in contempt. She didn't understand how he could listen to it, or even how he could like it, for that matter. All she heard was noise, anger, pain.