All My Colors by David Quantick

Author:David Quantick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

PART

TWO

FIVE

Todd wasn’t sure about the etiquette of heading out on a book tour. He had envisaged himself slipping out of bed in the gray dawn, leaving a note for Sara and driving off in the cold morning fog. But in the end he woke up late and went downstairs to find that Sara was making French toast in the kitchen.

“I’m doing this as a displacement activity,” she explained. “Making breakfast instead of crying.”

“I’ll be back before you know it,” promised Todd. “And I’ll call every night.”

“I’d kind of rather you didn’t,” said Sara. “I think I’d find it hard to take. Send me postcards instead, why don’t you? Like on that Bruce Springsteen album.”

She tapped him on the chest with a spatula.

“Find me,” she said, “the tackiest postcards you can. Greetings from Stoolbend. With all fancy lettering and a photo of the World’s Largest Pumpkin.”

“I will,” said Todd, and he meant it.

“Now eat,” said Sara.

* * *

Sara waved goodbye from the porch as Todd swung the Volvo into the road. He was going to honk cheerfully as he drove off, but for some reason this idea made him depressed, so he just took a final look back in the rear-view mirror, saw Sara close the door behind her, and lit out for the highway.

At the lights, Todd consulted his map. His first reading was a full day’s drive from here; he would be driving for most of the day if he was going to get there in time and check in to his accommodation after the event. He was a good map-reader and not too concerned about getting lost. It was all just a question of keeping going.

Four hours later, Todd’s bladder was painfully full while his stomach was almost as painfully empty. Todd looked at the Volvo’s clock. He was making good time and there was a truck stop just up ahead.

Todd pulled off the highway and into the parking lot.

The stop was largely full of Mexican truckers, which explained the counter menu. After a happy visit to the bathroom, Todd drank a Coke and ate a burrito. He was about to head back to the car when he saw a rack of postcards. They were generic Illinois: Home of some damn thing or other cards, but they fulfilled Sara’s tackiness requirements and besides, he didn’t know when he would be able to pick up some more postcards.

He paid for them and walked out into the sunshine. Across the way, two people were laughing about something. It was the kind of snapshot of time you want to preserve, what the TV ads called a Polaroid moment.

It ended a second later when Todd realized that one of the people laughing was Janis.

She looked different. Janis was wearing clothes that she would never have looked at six months ago: jeans and matching denim jacket. Her hair was cut short, almost like an old rock’n’roller. And she was wearing biker boots. Todd’s Janis had hated boots, said they deformed her feet or something, but this Janis looked like, Todd thought uncharitably, the fucking Fonz.

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