The Road East

The roadside varied little for thousands of miles; dusty and hot even in the middle of the night, it smelled of diesel and old oil leaks.
'Where are we?' he asked, not sure whether he cared or whether it mattered.
'We're still in Iran' she replied, surprised again at how much more resilient she seemed than her companion.
A truck sped by with another impossibly close behind. For a few moments the night was shattered by lights, noise and the choking fumes of gigantic ancient engines.
As suddenly as they had come they were gone, leaving only the murmurs of the exhausted and stupified bus passengers and the coughing of the driver as he smoked and checked his vehicle in a sort of non-commital, middle of the night, middle of Asia kind of way.
If you've never driven an old bus five thousand miles then it's easy to worry about a day trip to Brighton in a battered second hand car, but once you've coaxed a crumpled Bedford over the Hindu Kush a few times the nonchalence is no longer just for appearance's sake.
This guy did not exactly inspire confidence, but despite the fact that he was usually at least as stoned as his passengers, he did give the impression that he knew this dilapidated charabang better than the back of his tatooed hand.
'I wish we'd stayed in Turkey' the young hippy said, misery and dirt across his face. He knew that that had sounded pathetic and he regretted it immediately.
Still she smiled generously at him, 'No you don't.' She managed to sound calm and strong even if a large part of her too wished that they were still tripping in Istanbul or chilling out in Cappadocia. 'You're just tired. A couple more days and we'll be in Afghanistan.'
He pushed himself up from his haunches and gave her a thin smile and a shrug. 'I'm so glad you're here with me' he whispered with feeling, 'a lot of the time my head is in such a bad way that I don't know what I'd do without you.'
She reached up, took his face in her hands and kissed him tenderly. He was so fragile sometimes, so vulnerable, so unwilling to admit how hurt he had been. It took you coming thousands of miles, she thought, to the middle of the Iranian night, to realise that you need me you silly boy.
Sometimes, in the light of a new day, he was so confident and energetic that he could carry her along with him; talk her into anything; the spirit of adventure and the desire to discover himself, the world and her bubbled out of him.
It was when he was tired, ill or both that he changed. It happens, even when you're only nineteen. It was then that the harsher truths behind his decision to travel became apparent and his underlying weakness showed through.
'We'll be fine' she said as she let her hands slide across his wispy beard and down from his face. 'All the guys we've met coming back have told us that this journey can be hard.'
'I know. I know. It's cool.'
The driver climbed on to the first step of the bus, leaned back into the oily night saying 'Right then folks and freaks let's get this thing moving again, we've got a long way to go and I'd rather be in Kabul than out here.'
The engine grumbled and then rumbled into life; the rows of seats filled. The young man put his head against the window, his jacket rolled there as a pillow; she rested her head on his shoulder.
He's running, she thought, not just towards a different world with me, but away from so much that he can't stop.
It was too late at night to think clearly about all the heavy stuff; the nagging questions, but they resurfaced just the same. Why is he here with me? she wondered, and why do I cling to him? She focused instead on the mesmeric Persian music the driver had playing. She summarily dismissed her doubts.
Like most questions however, there would come a time, much later, when they would have to be faced. By then the consequences of youthful decisions would have taken solid form in adult responsibilities; the dreams of the East, and of freedom, would have encountered altogether different imperatives.
For now though she sank into the bumping rhythm of the bus and slipped in and out of sleep as the noises of other vehicles and the rambling fidgeting and restlessness of the other fragrant freaks going her way allowed.