Joe

Joe took a large sip from his mug of black coffee, the strong smell seeping into his nose and making his eyes water. The light that dimly lit the diner buzzed overhead, making the faded beige paint look like more of a putrid yellow, except for where it peeled, therefore looking like a faded eggshell. The wooden counter felt sticky underneath Joe’s dirty thick fingers with a plethora of coffee mug rings staining the counter. Joe ran his burnt tongue across the roof of his mouth, every bud feelings as if it were a grain of sand. The coffee had been hot as hell, but it woke him up, and it would keep him up for the next six or seven hours or so until he found another diner, whichever came first. Joe looked to his left at the other drivers, seeing others that looked just like him; blank red eyes staring into nothing, sipping coffee that wasn’t all that good, looking as if showers were optional. Joe looked down at his mug, swirling the dark liquid.

He heard laughter and turned again, seeing two thin men sitting at a booth, mouths stretched into smiles that eventually emitted laughs. Joe watched as the waitress went over to the table and, after a few words, began to laugh as well. Their laughs carried over to the other side of the diner where Joe sat, eardrums vibrating. Joe looked at the man facing him, who’s voice seemed to be the loudest. He had as much grey hair as he did blonde, and his skin revealed years of smoking in every crease, but the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes were from laughing, and despite being at least in his forties, he was actually a handsome man. Joe was only twenty-four and he felt that he would never look half as good as that man.

Joe listened to their good times drift over to where he sat. He once tried to remember the best thing he had ever seen while driving through the country, but all he could remember was the road; how it looked at dawn, at dusk, at midnight, at midday. Joe thought that every state was different, and maybe it was, but they all managed to have the same beaten road. Every hour driving felt like another year, the same road time after time, same direction, destination not even seen in broad daylight.

One of the men said something and another roar of laughter erupted from the booth, and Joe slammed his mug onto the table, the now lukewarm coffee spilling over the side of the mug and onto his hand. He quietly grumbled an apology to no one and wiped his hand on his shirt, reaching inside of his jeans and tossing a crumpled dollar bill onto the counter. He crammed his old trucker hat down onto his head and pushed his way through the door of the diner with some excessive force. The diner bell rang and the echo followed him, along with the laughter of the two men. Wiping his face, Joe’s pace quickened as he made his way around the diner to the back of the gas station next to it, reaching inside of his pocket to see how much more money he had. Determining that he had enough, Joe wiped his face in a feeble attempt to look presentable, or at least bearable. Walking into the tucked in corner of the back, Joe could see a khaki pair of shorts slowly pacing, with a long pair of legs attached to them. His paced slowed and as he got closer, he was able to see that the pair of legs belonged to a tall redhead with a halter top and a cigarette in one hand. He was also able to see her friends; a short blonde who would probably be better off naked, a second blonde with hardly anything on, and a brunette with an unusually large set of breasts, among other girls who were already preoccupied with other truckers. There was no need for Joe to be picky. He just wanted a girl. He needed a girl.

The girls who weren’t busy noticed him coming and began to smile. He walked up the small group. “This enough?” he mumbled to the nearest one.

The girls leaned in and examined the bills in his hand. “Yeah, that’s good,” the redhead said. She straightened herself up. “So, who do you want?” She and the rest of the girls smiled, and Joe wished that he didn’t have to pay to see it.

“Don’t care,” he said. He paused for a moment and looked at the blonde. “You,” he said. “My truck.”

The girl smiled and gave a small wave to the girls. Joe took her by the hand and led her to his truck, his nerves hard. While passing the diner, Joe could see the two men still in their booth, still laughing, only this time with other truckers. Joe’s brow furrowed and his pace quickened.

He helped the girl into the back of the truck, tossing his hat in after her. She had undressed by the time he had locked the doors and gotten in the back with her. He pulled down his pants and laid on his back, letting the girl do what she did best, the echoes of the laughing truckers floating in his head.