A Year Of Hope

We were back on the road the next morning.

We didn't take any major stops until we were an hour away from Houston.

"There's this amazing truck stop, you have to see it!" Jane told me as we pulled off the interstate.

And my was she correct. It was the biggest, most extravagant truck stop I had ever seen.

It was called Buccee's and its mascot was a beaver. There was a bronze statue of Buccee near the entrance, that Jane insisted we take a selfie at with her Polaroid.

There were over 100 gas pumps, and inside was the largest convenient store filled with all sorts of snacks and sugary drinks, and they even sold their own merch. They had so many stalls in their restroom, but they weren't average stalls, they were large wooden doors with a proper lock. And the bathrooms were completely clean, and by far the cleanest public bathroom I had used during the road trip, and perhaps ever.

I went and grabbed Jane and I some snacks and energy drinks and met Jane in one of the check out lines. She had T-shirts with Buccee on them and got us each a Buccee keychain.

"I couldn't help myself," she said, "the memories, ya know." And I nodded knowingly.

Then we continued the drive to Houston. The interstates in Texas were made of concrete instead of tar. Jane said her dad told her it got so hot in Texas that the tar would melt, but she wasn't quite sure if that was true. But she was right, it was sweltering for winter. When we left our apartment, it had been high 30s, and Atlanta too. Louisiana had been in the 60s, but Texas was almost in the 90s.

We passed a sign announcing we were officially in the Houston city limits.

"Cai, did you bring cigarettes?" Jane asked.

"Three packs," I confirmed, although I only then realized I hadn't smoked at all during the road trip.

"I'm going to take one if that's okay. I need to mentally prepare myself for my father," she said as she rummaged through my bag for a cigarette and lit it.

"Is he that bad?"

"The worst," she confirmed, "but if he becomes too much of an asshole we'll leave Friday."

I shrugged, "I don't mind."

"You're kind, but I think you underestimate how awful this man can truly be."

We drove into  large, gated apartment complex with many several story apartment buildings and parking garages. There was street parking, but hardly anyone parked there. Jane told me that Houston was prone to sudden nasty storms, often accompanied with hail, so people tended to park in covered areas if possible. So we parked in the parking garage near his apartment building and we parked next to Jane's dad's car. A pimped out Honda Accord which had a HONDA sticker in the windshield.

"Oh," I said when I saw the car.

Jane laughed, "Yeah, cringe right?"

We walked out suitcases to the apartment. Jane let out a sigh and knocked on the door. She held my hand, likely to try to play the role of my fiancé.

To my surprise, Jane's dad was white. We never discussed her ethnic background but Jane had a medium brown skin tone so I assumed her parents to be brown or black. I almost thought she was adopted for a split second but I soon saw a few similarities. The bridge of her nose has a bump like her dad's and was ever so slightly crooked, and the outer corner's of her dropped downward ever so slightly. They both also had circles under their eyes and a hazel eye color.

Jane's dad was skinny with the exception of a beer belly. He looked young in his, and his cheeks and forehead had acne, but his silver, thinning hair gave away his age. He wore metal rimmed glasses, a polo, and blue jeans.