We were driving up north from San Diego. We didn’t know where we were going but it’s summer, so no one ever really knows. Maybe it’s the restlessness born from the heat but whatever it is, Samantha and I needed out.

I looked at the clock; it was 5 p.m. The sunlight finally seemed to be weakening as the dust from the dry fields surrounding this one narrow highway, hung low across the horizon. For a couple hours now, we had been driving through that part of California where there seems to be more cows than people. And although it could be a pleasant change, the lack of human life seemed haunting.

A loud sigh broke my gaze from the black road and I turned to Samantha. The longer strands of her light brown hair gained movement and the tips stood up, free from the heat and the day’s sweat. She was wearing my The Smiths T-shirt with some old jeans she cut into shorts.

“What’s wrong?” I said, although it wasn’t the first of her sighs that had randomly fallen out of her mouth and shaken the car.

“This is so depressing,” she said.

Samantha was talking about the book I had told her to read: “Winesburg, Ohio.”  It is a novel written in a short-story cycle form that is based on several characters, all living in Winesburg, Ohio, and dealing with loneliness and isolation.

“Well, you don’t have to read it,” I responded, obviously irritated.

“Geez, I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” she said. “All these towns we’ve passed are so empty. How can people stand it here?”

She grabbed a hair tie and tied her hair back. Without saying anything else, she put her feet up on the dashboard and went back to reading. I looked at her hand and at the bracelet I had given her on Christmas last year. Since then, it had never left her wrist. I wanted to put my hand out and hold hers, but something held me back. We’d been together for a year now, a new record for me. I don’t think I’d ever lasted more than a month before everything just felt too heavy and I called it quits.

I looked at the book again suddenly remembering a character called Enoch. He ends up growing old, lonely and all, because he can’t stay in a relationship because of his big ego and self-centered tendencies.  At one point he even creates imaginary friends. When I read this story, I swear I felt as if something came out from deep within me and grabbed a hold of my throat. I really do love Samantha, but how much longer will I be able to hold it together?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Samantha said.

Thirty minutes had passed. I suddenly felt as if my Toyota Camry had shrunken. Here was my car, in the middle of huge empty fields and we had no idea where we were going. I needed to stop, quick.

“Yeah, just a little tired,” I answered.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No. Listen, are you hungry? A sign just said there’s a Subway two exits from here.”

“We might as well stop,” she said absentmindedly. “Who knows when we’ll find another place to eat.”

The speedometer increased to 80 mph. I felt a drop of sweat going down my neck. Could I really be an Enoch? Would I really be able to leave Samantha just because I’m afraid to have my ego harmed?

After a minute, I exited the highway. The Subway was on the right side of the exit ramp. As we entered the parking lot, I noticed there was only one person there. It was one of those gas stations that also contained a couple of fast-food places. The one person there was a middle-aged woman, probably around 40. She was putting gas in her minivan, but her clothing looked a bit out of the norm for an empty place like this. Maybe, I thought, she was also running away.

I parked the car and rushed into the building. I went into the single unisex restroom, put the toilet seat down and rested my head on the wall next to it. My knuckles turned white as I squeezed them tightly, trying to avoid some sort of breakdown. Then I heard the ring from the station’s door. Damn it! I forgot about Samantha.

I quickly got out of the restroom. She wasn’t inside so I rushed to the car. The keys were still in the ignition but Samantha wasn’t in the car. Her bags were gone. The book was gone. Everything of hers was gone, as if she was never here. I took out my cell phone and called her. After two rings, she answered.

“Hey, it’s about time you call!” she said.

“Where are you?”

“Umm, why do you sound so nervous. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, but where the heck are you?”

“I’m at my house. How’s your trip going?”

My phone cracked as it hit the pavement. I could still hear her voice, but I didn’t want to know what she was saying. I got in the car and drove back onto the highway. The stars began breaking through the orange sky and I felt lonelier than ever.

Read more from this author: Cold showers in April