The thruway rest stop loomed in the middle of the road, accessible by traffic in either direction, raised high over the fast-moving traffic. The overpass tunnels from the parking lots glowed in the dark, a long walk for anyone hurrying from a vehicle with a full bladder.
The news and candy shop was closed, as was the souvenir stand, but the diner kept minimally staffed all night. A janitor was winding up the long cord to the floor polisher, and the large atrium looked the cleanest it ever would. Emily was heading west, and had left her sleeping boyfriend in the car. She didn't want to wake him because he would be irritated that she had to stop, again. She wanted to keep driving, though, and thought she'd pee and pick up a hot chocolate to go. Which, of course, would make her pee, but she would deal with Rob, and her bladder, again later.
The bathrooms were enormous and automated at every turn. There were two long rows of stainless steel-colored stalls on the outside walls; eight sinks to each side of the center, mirrored wall; and two baby changing stations. During the day, this was a very busy place, but at two-thirty in the morning, it was dead, making it blessedly clean and quiet.
Ears still ringing from the turbo-charged automatic hand dryer, Emily took a moment to sit in the atrium and rest her eyes, breathing deeply. This drive out west, barely begun, had already been extremely stressful, and the nagging worries she had about Rob were becoming too difficult to ignore. She remembered thinking he was great, but no longer remembered why. Another deep breath, and thoughts of hot chocolate made her smile. She was about to see if the diner could make it to-go, when she heard weeping. It was definite weeping, too, not just a few tears, and it was coming from the men's room.
Emily stood and walked a few steps closer to the passageway into the bathroom, not daring to get too close. A female voice behind her made her jump. "It's okay. He's okay."
"Are you sure? Should I..." Emily wasn't sure what she could do, but she wanted to help. Rob would have been irritated.
The woman was already shaking her head, "No. Really. He's fine. This happens." Despite the hour, the woman was wearing a very smart pantsuit, the kind that news reporters and politicians would wear. Older than Emily, she was very well put-together, especially for a quarter to three in the morning, waiting outside a rest stop men's room for some guy to pull himself together.
Now it sounded like someone was retching, followed by more crying. "Can I... get you anything?" The man's sobs were echoing in the empty, stainless steel room.
"No." The woman stood, fished a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, "Wait. You can do something. I've got to have a smoke." She jerked her head at the bathroom, "Tell him when he gets done where I've gone." Her heels clicked on the polished floor as she strode to the long hallway to the east-bound parking.
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