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(Continued from (Part I))

     A half an hour had passed, and it was through word of mouth that we would be here for at least two more hours.  We tried tuning into local AM radio stations to get more information, but there were only weather reports about the oncoming storm.  Apparently, there was a storm further to the west and that Route 80 was closed until the storm passed.  We were not actually sure what to do, but there was not anything that we could do.  All there was to do was wait.  I had started the car up twice to warm up the interior.  Maybe it was an illusion -- It seemed as though the gas gauge lowered slightly every time I did so.  Once in a while, either Alex or I wiped away some of the fog off the glass and noticed the same scene of parked cars and trucks on the highway.  People wandered about occasionally hoping to take notice of any progress that may have occurred.  Weather conditions did not seem to improve.  In all actuality, the weather did not get any worse, and it was difficult to understand what all the commotion was about.  There was some hail mixed in with a little sleet; not enough to cause panic.  It was probably due to the unexpectedness of it all.  Alex pointed to the low fuel light on the dashboard as it lit up.  I stopped the engine once again.  All we could do was wait.
     We reengaged in our conversation about our lost loves and how relationships had profoundly shaped our lives.  “I still cannot believe it,” Alex said, “I mean it has been about a month now.  You would think that I would be over it.  But, I cannot believe that she bailed like that.  She knew how much,” he hesitated, “how much it meant to me.  You cannot tell me that it was full of false promises.  But, I am glad that it is over.  It was too hard at times -- too hard.  But, I was willing to stick it out, you know?  I was willing.  Where is she going to find someone else like that?  Huh?  You tell me.  Where is she going to find someone else who would put up with her crap?”
     “I don’t know,” I mumbled as to answer the rhetorical question.
     “No where,” he continued, “Of course not.  It is kind of paradoxical, in a sense, how she would seem to want me so much, then pull out, you know?”
     I listened more intently as he continued, “Suddenly she would,” he hesitated, “Well, I am not sure what to make of it.  I just do not know.”  A pause developed in the conversation.  His words seemed to have triggered some of my thoughts.  Alex continued to talk and I knew he needed to vent.  It was difficult trying to listen.  Everything that he said triggered some thought within me of where I was during this post relationship syndrome.  I know it had only been a week for the break up of my girlfriend and me.  Everything still seemed pretty raw to me.  Being all too familiar with the grieving process, I hated every bit of it.  I have never enjoyed it.  Never really can imagine how anyone could, but it did not seem to disturb others as much as it did me.  I guess it is more a matter of acceptance than tolerance of the ever-popular roller coaster feelings; anger, sadness, numbness, joy.  I wondered what she was doing at this moment. Probably not stuck on a highway waiting for some winter storm to pass.  I wondered if she thought about me as much anymore.  She probably did, but probably just due to habit.  I wondered what she thought about.
     Alex wiped away a section of his window to look outside.  He turned to me and asked, “Do you think that it is paradoxical?  I mean, do you think that it is inconsistent?  Of me?  To be,” catching himself, he tried to find the correct words to express what he was thinking, “Well, I get really angry at her for dropping things like that.”  He grew quiet for a second, “How about you?  You ever miss her?”
     It grew quiet in the car for a second.  Alex awaited my answer.  I turned to him and nodded a couple of times in jest.  He seemed satisfied.  Outside, we heard a car start up.  I wiped away a small part of the moist fog lingering on the windshield to see if anything had progressed.  I noticed cloudy images of what seemed like cars travelling in the opposite direction.  I motioned over to Alex to bundle up a little bit more, opened my door, and stuck my head out.  Cars were turning around and going back in the opposite direction on the far shoulder.  I quickly shut the door, started the car, wiped the windshield with one sleeve, turned the defroster on full blast, and waited for a break in the traffic.  We were finally moving.  It may be in the opposite direction, but nonetheless, we were moving.

     It must have taken us about another half an hour to reach the first exit.  Alex pointed nervously at the gas gauge as it was pinned against the empty indicator.  We followed the line of cars, which travelled at less than five miles per hour, off of the highway.  Once off the highway, Alex pointed at a gas station and we pulled in after what seemed like ten other cars.  After waiting in a staggering line, we were able to pull into the next empty gas pump and filled up the tank.  We ran into the station, used the restroom, and purchased a map.
     “80 is closed,” the clerk said, “If you’re trying to get to Scranton, you’re going to have to take 611 to 380.  Look it here,” pointing on the map, “611 follows 80 to 380.  Take 611 to 380. 611 West.  80 is closed.”
     I asked the clerk, “How do I get to 611?”
     She pointed out the window, “Right out here.  That’s 611.  Over that way is east and over the other is west.  You want west -- West to Scranton -- 611 to 380.  That’ll take you there.  Just stay on 611.  80 is closed.”  She waved on the next customer.
     We hurried back to the car with our directions in mind and new map in hand, turned left onto Route 611 West, and followed the line of cars travelling at thirty miles per hour.  Following a line of cars at a mere thirty miles per hour on this two lane road would have seemed like pure torture, but after sitting in stopped traffic for what seemed like an eternity with a near empty gas tank, this was pure bliss.  All the passing trees and scenery made it seem like huge leaps of progress.  I motioned over to Alex and he flipped through the grocery bag full of cassette tapes.  It was time to replace the mumble of the newscaster on the radio with some fine, modern day, music selection.
     We traveled for fifteen minutes before the line of cars came to a halt again.  Alike earlier, some of the people seemed puzzled.  I felt a little bit more knowledgeable, but frustrated, knowing what laid ahead waiting for us toward the west.  Alex looked to me, “Oh no.  Not again.”  It seemed a little bit ridiculous that we were willingly supposedly driving into the eye of a snowstorm.  It seemed more ridiculous that we were having such a tough time getting there.
     “Where’s the map?” I asked Alex.
     “It is here,” he replied.
     “Open it up,” I did not want to stay here more than one additional second necessary.  He fumbled with the many creases opening and refolding the map as to allow us to focus into where we were actually located.  I laid the map across the steering wheel and followed a new route with my pinky finger, “Okay, I think this will be the game plan.  See this road here?  We’re going to follow that back towards New York, but we’re going to head north, away from here -- away from this Interstate.  We’re basically going to head north first, then back towards the west.  What do you think?”
     He responded reassuringly, “Sounds like a plan.”
     I circled the car around and traveled back toward the east direction in the empty lane.  It felt like we were ahead of everyone else.  We noticed all the cars that were embarking in the long wait on Route 611 and we were delighted that we were not one of the many.  We had different plans.  We were headed home.

     An hour had passed by and we were now traveling on Route 209 northeast through Pennsylvania and back toward the Empire State.  It was late afternoon and the sunlight seemed to be dimming.  So far, so good – the weather conditions were bearable and what was supposed to be a storm, seemed more like snow flurries.  There was a slight layer of snow covering the road, but nothing that seemed dangerous.  There were a few cars on the road, but nothing that resembled the state of affairs earlier.  Apparently, Route 209 seemed more like a two lane road that traveled through small towns.  It was very scenic.  The other cars that were on the road were either local town traffic or adventurers alike ourselves.
     “Hey.  Are you hungry yet?” I asked Alex.
     “Yeah.  A little.”  He seemed a little quiet.
     “Do you have to go to the bathroom?” I questioned his silentness.
     “Yeah.  A little,” he answered, “It can wait.”  His eyes stayed on the road and did not turn toward me when he answered.  It was obvious that he was thinking about something other than the current conversation.
     “What do you say about eating in about an hour?  I think we’ll hit New York State then.  In about an hour?” I asked him.
     “Yeah.  Sounds good,” he answered.  He looked over briefly.  I think he realized my other motive for getting his attention, “Sorry.  Just a little out of it.  You think that we will ever find others?  I mean, like, you think that it may be true that people find true happiness by finding the right one?  Is it possible?  You know, they say that there are many people who are compatible out there with each other, but there are very few who one can be truly happy with.  You believe that stuff?”
     Thinking to myself for a second, I answered, “I’m not sure.  There are many theories…”
     He interrupted, “They talk about true love.  They talk about soulmates.  She talked about soulmates a lot.  I just don’t understand.”  Alex grew quiet again.  He looked down for a second and once again, his eyes followed the road.

(onward to (Part III))

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