Archive of Our Own ^beta

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Despite the perfectly smooth road the truck bumps and jostles. Probably not enough money put into maintenance. It makes it harder for Shannon to keep her things organized, the screws audibly bouncing around in Conway’s empty cup holder. She’s got a screwdriver held in her mouth while she wipes down the socket with a rag. Conway hums. The dog snores and drools on Shannon’s shoes. The radio’s off, it makes Shannon think about Weaver too much.

Shannon: I got a tape from Junebug I can put on.

Shannon: Lonely out here with no other cars.

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Shannon: I got a tape from Junebug I can put on.

(Conway nods.) The tape is well worn and the smudged permanent marker on the label is illegible. The tape goes in and the sounds of a backyard in summer fade in. The buzz of cicadas and rusty groans of a swing set, the clink of ice against the glass of a mason jar. There’s a rumble.

Then starts the yelling.

Then comes the lawnmower.

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Then starts the yelling.
Woman: Get inside, the storm’s almost here!

Thump. A soccer ball definitely kicked. A squeaky screen door opens.

Woman: Put that down and get in!
Thump.
Footsteps on a wood porch. The child mumbles pulling away from the arm that was just grabbed. Feet on the grass.
Child: No!
It’s a young voice. Sounds kind of like

Shannon: Weaver

Shannon: Ezra

Conway: Charlie

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Then comes the lawnmower.
It’s a harsh sound against the ambiance. The churning gets louder, choking out all the other sounds. After a moment it becomes a steady drone. The screws keep time.

Chapter Text

Shannon: Lonely out here with no other cars.
Conway’s body lights Shannon’s makeshift workspace. She has to turn a little sideways but if she shoves her jacket between her and the door it’s somewhat comfortable. She sees Conway shrug without even looking up.
Shannon:I take it you’ve been on lonelier roads.
(Conway gives a single nod)
Shannon: I couldn’t commute, not like Weaver’s parents. Being in traffic, all those cars with no people in them. Sure they’re in there, but that’s their own world, separate from yours
(Conway gives a small nod and rolls down the window.) The air is cool and brisk. (Conway takes a deep breath.)
Shannon: We’re gonna get you out of that job.
(Conway glances up.) A receipt is tucked into the visor. It has a smudged pen mark for every day Shannon has spent in the truck.