The Reckless Collision

Sam.

~~~

The soft hum of the bus engine filled the air, a constant vibration beneath my feet that had almost become comforting over the weeks of constant travel. While it might seem as monotony in a way how we all operate it gave solace as well. I often helped with the merch shop before the shows but disappeared just before security let the fans in. We got to explore various cities and I even had plenty of time to write, usually when the band rehearsed or had soundchecks before the shows.

Outside, the night blurred into streaks of highway lights and shadows, the occasional silhouette of a distant building or tree flashing by. Inside, the bus was quiet, most of the crew and band asleep or tucked away in their own corners. I sat cross-legged on the small couch in the kitchenette, my laptop balanced precariously on my knees, its screen the only light in the dimly lit space.

I clicked on the email almost absentmindedly, my finger hovering over the trackpad as I stared at the subject line: Congratulations on Your Upcoming Publication!

For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

My hands trembled as I opened it, the words spilling out in crisp, professional language that felt surreal like they belonged to someone else. Dear Frances Farmer... thrilled to inform you... publication... first run slated for next fall... Congratulations.

My breath caught in my throat, and before I knew it, tears welled up in my eyes. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of the words on the screen, reading and rereading them until the meaning finally sank in.

My book. My words. My story. Going to be out in the world.

The joy hit me like a tidal wave, but almost immediately, a sharp pang of sadness followed. Rose should have been here for this. She would've squealed with excitement, throwing her arms around me and declaring it a victory for both of us. She'd been one of my biggest supporters, my loudest cheerleader, and now she was gone.

I pressed a hand to my chest as if I could hold back the ache that always came when I thought about her. The joy was still there, but it felt muted, tangled with grief that hadn't lessened just yet.

A soft creak startled me, and I looked up to see Raymond stepping into the kitchenette. His dark hair was tousled, his hoodie hanging loosely off his frame, making him look more like the boy I'd fallen in love with than the rock star the world was shouting to see.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his voice low and rough with exhaustion.

"Something like that," I murmured, wiping my eyes quickly.

He frowned, noticing. "What's wrong, love?"

I shook my head, biting my lip to keep from breaking into an emotional mess right there. "Nothing. It's—" I hesitated, holding out my laptop. "Just... read this."

Ray moved closer, his brows furrowing as he leaned over to scan the email. I watched his face as the realization dawned on him. His eyes widened, his lips curving into a slow, proud smile that lit up his whole face.

"Fuck, yeah," he said, his voice filled with awe.

I nodded, laughing through the tears that were now freely streaming down my face. "My book—it's going to be published," I said, trying to get used to the feeling.

Ray let out a whoop of excitement, scooping me up off the couch and spinning me around like we were in the middle of a romantic comedy. I couldn't help but laugh, my head resting against his shoulder as he twirled me in the small space.