Mystery Lake

[15] Hold On

Before they went in, they asked Layla if she could shift to male mode since Brock's outfit made her look like she just crawled out of bed and threw on a theoretical boyfriend's duds in less than a minute.

She strained and squatted like she was trying to pass a difficult amount of gas, but her form didn't deviate one inch from her normal Layla configuration. Maybe her hair twinkled, but that could have been a trick of the light. She stopped before she got woozy and admitted, "I feel like my tummy just doesn't want to do it. Too hungry, too disheartened, umm...disstomachated? Disstomacheted?"

Absolutely not a word, but Roxanne didn't mind. Miranda frowned, though. Layla noted that she was wary about trying to transition back because jumping between the two really bothered her and nearly made her "Charlie", which was her name for 'ralph'.

She gave no further explanation about her terminologies, but in the back of the car she changed into a variation of her regular clothes, with more of a slant toward spinning psychedelic, bold colors splattered willy-nilly over fluttering shorts and a loose, long-sleeved top with just a hint of midriff. This time, she grabbed a few eyeballs of her own, but they mainly belonged to one woman with big glasses, vaguely resembling Jess's, who scrutinized her with the full force of her eyebrows, as if she had just committed the gravest crimes of fashion.

The men, a smattering of stray truckers along with frazzled fathers trudging back to their cars, caught one glimpse of her and reacted as if they had inadvertently caught a full-force glimpse of the sun somewhere in the overcast sky above. One even let out an open-mouthed, silent scream. Layla looked as pleased as punch, as if this result was exactly what she had been aiming for. Chiara slipped over to Layla's right side and carefully maneuvered her dainty hand as if performing a human crane game, looking for the right spot to safely position her arm to support her.

Layla practically jumped at Chiara, squeezing both arms around the startled girl and pressing their lips together in the most insistent kiss. The kiss continued relentlessly, with Layla leading the way with her ravenous mouth motions, to the point where Roxanne worried if Chiara would remember to breathe through her nose, or at all, and not pass out.

When Layla finally released her, Chiara looked more like a posable statue, with Botox shot into her features. Her lips dangled helplessly, unsure of what to do now with the rest of their existence. She looked across the short span of pavement at the others. Roxanne sent her a smile of encouragement—the first smile she truly felt in what must have been an eternity. Ross just looked stunned, but not unhappy, and was resisting the urge to look over at Miranda, even though they had done far more adventurous things not too long ago. Roxanne wanted to smooch Jake so hard right then, but she also wanted to see what happened next with Chiara. She had some thoughts and a few words prepared in her mind. But she was not prepared for what actually happened.

Chiara moved her head a few ways with uncertainty, as if someone had the remote control for her gestures, but they weren't quite sure how the knobs and switches worked yet. She looked over at Layla, who still had a full-blown, gleeful smile spread across her lips, invading her cheeks. Chiara leaped for Layla, wrapping her up in an unrestrained hug and practically twirling her around, while giving her the full embrace of her lips and a kiss just as insistent. That drew a few stray whoops behind them that weren't entirely from the men.

Chiara didn't hold her version of the kiss quite as long, pulling away with an irrepressible smile that refused to leave her lips. Layla gave a pretty little peck on those lips and smiled back just as warmly. Roxanne gave her friend a full round of applause. The others in their group were the only ones who joined in. Now Chiara decided it was time for her to be embarrassed and sheepish about this. Once again, they needed this.

The interior of the truck stop was much bigger than Roxanne expected. Most of it was about the same as any full-service gas station, with a wide area dedicated to snacks, drinks, and little metal rollers keeping hot an assortment of hot dogs, cylindrical chicken fingers, and greasy morning sausages. Roxanne was tempted to fulfill her prior declaration, but these looked alarmingly dark.

There were three decent-sized aisles dedicated to various automobile-related products, from air fresheners to batteries to full-size coolers. On clearance were a few remaining winter essentials like ice scrapers, snow brushes, yooper chooks, blankets, and snow boots. Beyond that were a few more aisles of trinkets for tourists that toed the line between American and Canadian: little fluttering pennants and stars and stripes banners next to hockey paraphernalia, maple leaf stickers, and candy.

A large freezer section offered up many choices, but Roxanne had to turn away. She swung around to gaze out the large windows at the world that still existed beyond. Reassurance. And she wasn't the only one; Ross had also wandered back to the automatic door, as if she were taking a free dive and it was the only source of air. Soon, Jake and Chiara followed, with Layla close behind.

Roxanne knew what this was; she paid enough attention to Jess and her psychology notes on PTSD to understand what they were going through. Some part of her thought she was tougher than that, but it didn't matter how tough you thought you were. It was just how the body responded to trauma.

They would probably have to get one of the long tables and face the windows while they ate, just for that added bit of reassurance—the reminder they weren't locked away in the dark with monsters anymore.

Hunger and all the surrounding smells brought them to finally focus on the fresh meals on offer. The stop had four separate, smaller versions of major chain restaurants crammed into a still-sizable area, with about a dozen large tables spread out and mostly occupied except for the wide one in the corner they grabbed. Layla and Chiara were again the adventurous ones, with their chairs facing away from the window but still slightly turned, while Jake and Miranda pushed their seats to the side to split a bit of both, while Roxanne tried not to make anything of the fact that she was sitting on the same side as Ross. Trauma didn't mean weakness.

They again took turns together, using the spacious restrooms with nearby showers and a lounge, but Jake and Ross went first. When it was the girls' turn, Chiara looked like she was about to turn into a giant tomato at the stark realization of where she was going with Layla. Not that it mattered a single lick to Layla as she nearly hoisted Chiara up like a prize and pranced to the potty.

Roxanne looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eye was still twitching, and she could feel dark shadows around her bright blue eyes, even though she couldn't see them. Her black hair looked like it had been trampled by elephants and blasted by a hurricane. Her tanned skin had taken on a pale tint that was easy to see under the harsh, artificial lights above.

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Miranda scooted over and gently bumped Roxanne's shoulder, giving her a quiet, sympathetic smile. Behind them, it looked like Layla was the friendliest shark, dragging Chiara away into the extra-large stall to pee together. Or something like that. It was hard for her to tell with that one, and she preferred not knowing for sure.

Once some measure of quiet had settled in the area, Miranda asked, "You okay?"

Roxanne looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eye was still twitching and she could feel dark shadows around her bright blue eyes, even though she couldn't see them. Her black hair looked like it had been trampled by elephants and blasted by a hurricane. Her tanned skin had taken on a pale tint easy to see under with the harsh, artificial lights above.

Miranda didn't look much better, even though Duncan's brownish curls were usually a little messed up, and that pale, freckled face always tended to look tired. But on a girl as cute and pretty as he was now, the signs of strain were all the more obvious. Roxanne noticed that she was holding on tightly to the edges of the sink for support.

Without thinking about it, Roxanne wrapped an arm around Miranda's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. The girl rested her head against her and didn't say anything; she just took several long, uneasy breaths, like every effort was expended to keep air in her lungs. This hug didn't have an expiration date, just as long as she wanted it.

For a moment, it sounded like Miranda might start crying, but she held whatever she had together.

"So weird that turning into girls was not the strangest thing that happened today," she mumbled with a small laugh. Roxanne just nodded in response.

Behind them, the stalls did the faintest bit to muffle whatever it was that the lovebirds were doing. Slowly, Miranda released herself from the hug and splashed her face as Roxanne had done. Giggles could be heard, and that was all Roxanne wished to know.

Miranda went to do her business while Roxanne decided to check out the options for a shower. The waiting room lounge contained a handful of male truckers leaning forward to watch a basketball game, and a Nintendo Switch, with a few scattered controllers on locked cords, displayed the opening screen of a wrestling game. The touchscreen claimed there were no showers open at the moment, but there would be soon. The price was a little more than she wanted to pay, but she reluctantly reserved one.

Back in the cafeteria area, Layla and Chiara had already returned and pushed their chairs together to slide freely between the seats. Jake had word about the food options, with opinions about each. No all-you-can-eat anything, which Layla lamented, but they did have a decent-looking pizza place, Asian fusion, a small burger stand, and questionable tacos along with the usual gas station fare, plus some offerings for coffee and a huge soda machine that covered the far wall.

Roxanne let Jake choose for her, so long as it was comforting and filling. Pizza seemed to be the ideal choice all around, although Ross opted for the house noodles with as much meat as he could get. Chiara lent Roxanne the car keys so she could look over the clothing options in the back. Jake winked at the fact that maybe they could share a shower. Roxanne responded that it might be a good idea because of the cost and asked if he wanted her to grab a change of clothes for him.

Jake raised an eyebrow in concern and lightly touched Roxanne's cheek while asking the same question that Miranda had put to her: "Are you okay?"

She didn't really answer Jake either, giving him a soft kiss on his manly but smooth cheek and then on his lips before sharing a calm smile. Jake let it go and said that she could grab whatever out of the car she thought might look good on him, probably something that Joel used to wear. There were a few alternates they hadn't gone with by the lake. As for what Roxanne would change into, she had some thoughts. As long as it wasn't those impossibly tight jeans of doom, she joked.

Alone, Roxanne traced her way back through the automatic doors and around anonymous faces that she sensed were probably checking out her ass or sneaking a peek at her modest rack as she made her way to the car. She popped open the side door and scooted over to the back. It had plenty of space back here, even with the rear seat up. The windows were also lightly tinted. A couple of them probably could have camped out in this.

As she shut the door behind her and crouched down to look at the bags, she noticed that her vision was blurry. Tears...damn tears. They tried to get her as she comforted new boy Jake and then reading that blasted pulpy romance crap... Estrogen trying to mess with her again.

She tried to wipe away the tears, but more kept coming. She squeezed a hand to her mouth, clenched her eyes shut, and felt the sobs whimper out of her throat as her chest ached. And they just kept coming as her sobs grew stronger. She had to press her head against the floor of the car to muffle them as best she could. She should've saved this for the damn shower. It didn't matter if you cried in the shower, and the walls were probably thicker.

Just get up, Roxanne; don't whimper and weep on the floor like a baby. Go and shower, and it'll all be better. You can get clean again, like you need to. That's what a shower is for. Get the damn dirt off of you. Let the pain wash away, let the fear drain off, send it away. Just stop it! Stop being like this. You, you stupid... stupid, useless... weak idiot! Get up! Get up, Roxanne! You're supposed to be a man! Act like one! You don't deserve to cry!

Her teeth bit into her lower lip, and she tried to hold her breath to stem the tears, but they kept coming, no matter what she did. And no one was coming to save her, to hold her, to tell her it was okay.

Because you don't need it. Because you don't deserve it. Because you're a fucking man between the ears, where it counts! Get up! Get the hell up, you worthless piece of shit! You're not supposed to be crying like this! You don't have the right! You're not weak! You're strong! You're supposed to protect others, not let them protect you! You're the one who's supposed to comfort them, not the other way around!

She had no idea how long she stayed on the floor of the car, just sobbing. When the last tears fell and the sobs stopped, it felt like the hardest workout she'd ever done, but without the rush of endorphins and accomplishment that followed it. She could've just laid on the carpet for hours. It was already minutes—too many minutes. The others would come to check on her, and she couldn't let them find her like this. But her body was exhausted, her mind was drained, and her soul ached with a lingering emptiness.

She was a hollow shell.