Sparrows Song

Chapter 11

"Can we stop somewhere to eat?" Jane asked, interrupting his thoughts and returning him to the present.

"Yeah."

Jane studied Blake, who did not spare so much as a glance in her direction. The flatness of his tone and his utter detachment bothered her more than it probably should. Of course his reaction wasn't really unexpected since she knew how hard it was for him to talk about his past, and especially since she had pried about such a difficult subject. But she had let him sulk for what she deemed a reasonable amount of time, and even let him pick the radio stations in an attempt to mollify him. He uttered no words of thanks and she put up with his choice of angry rock music without complaint.

But by the afternoon Jane was starving and they still hadn't stopped anywhere to eat. She wondered if Blake ever planned on stopping, or if he just intended to keep on driving with that blank look on his face the entire way home. Eventually she couldn't take her hunger anymore so she had to speak up.

Blake would have ignored the dull pain of his empty stomach if not for Jane. His eating habits were erratic anyway, and discomfort of it didn't phase him. But in any case, he pulled into the first fast food restaurant he spotted.

While they ate Jane attempted to engage him in trivial conversation to no success. He only answered in one word responses, seemingly completely disinterested with her. She never thought she would miss the unnerving way he usually stared at her, but now that he seemed to be avoiding eye contact with her completely she felt strangely slighted.

They got back into the car after their quick stop, and again Blake rebuffed any attempts she made at conversation. Jane didn't quite know what to do besides leave him to his thoughts and ponder her own unhappy situation, and so she only stared out the window sadly, lost in her own misery.

Eventually, it grew dark again, and suddenly Blake didn't think he could fight the exhaustion threatening to overtake him.

"I want to stop somewhere for the night," he said flatly, "I can't drive anymore."

"Okay," Jane said, agreeable. She was just happy to hear him speak to her again. The silence and the tension between them was really wearing on her. She quickly used her phone to find an affordable place for them and booked a single room with two beds.

When they arrived at the motel and got to their room, Blake didn't wait up for her to come to bed like she'd grown accustomed to. Instead he went immediately to the closest bed and crawled in, turning over onto his stomach and burying his head in the pillow.

Jane watched him sadly and she wanted to go to him, to touch him and let him know everything would be alright. It had obviously taken a lot out of him to tell her what he had today, and seeing as how she was still reeling from it she could only imagine how Blake felt. Jane was still conflicted about Blake, but Jane knew herself well enough to know that when there was a war between her head and her heart, her heart always won out eventually. It was only a matter of time, but at least for now she resisted. It wouldn't do either of them any good for her to try to comfort him and give him false hopes when she was so uncertain herself.

To Jane's disappointment, Blake's mood wasn't improved after a good night's sleep. He was mostly silent as they both showered, packed up, and hit the road again. At least this time he remembered to stop for breakfast.

Since he and Jane were not really speaking, Blake had more than ample time to think. The very thing that had given him a direction the past few years, his only real hope for the future, had been destroyed. Still, he decided it was irrelevant how Jane felt about him really, because it had not changed how he felt about her, what he thought about her. He tried to convince himself of that anyway, even though he couldn't completely rid himself from the dull ache of her rejection. His stoicism was only an almost meditative effort at eradicating all his pesky emotions and replacing them with only numbness, like a shot of Novocain. But again, this was only partially successful, and now that they were so close to home he could not stop the building anxiety that was bubbling up within him, threatening to break through his carefully crafted mask of indifference.