Save Me From Me Read Free

friends. I want what’s best for her, even if it isn’t me. But whatever, I’m done living in the past. I’d like to say I’m living for me now, but that’s not the full truth either.
    Working for my dad has never been a dream of mine. It was a dream of his and here I am, like a genie finally granted him his wish. Yeah, the money’s good, and the work is hard, but it’s not me. An oilfield worker/pipeliner, or whatever job title I have for the day, is not what I want for the rest of my life, even if it’s what my dad wants to leave to me one day. No, this is temporary. This is what I do for now until I find something else, until something comes to me that I can’t shake. When that day comes, I’ll be screaming Hallelujah and hopefully booking it with the whole father/son relationship still fully intact. Later, Pops.
    So, here I am, driving my new buddy and me to our next destination, our new home for a while since we’re headed to a big job. He’s definitely not the best driving companion to have. He won’t stay up, and on top of that, he snores. I can’t even drown him out with the damn radio, and I sure as hell can’t get much thinking done with the croaking noises coming out of his mouth. It seriously sounds like he inhaled a frog, and it’s lodged in his throat. I pull into some dinky Motel 6 and throw the truck in park. It’s not as if the hotel options are grand in the towns we end up working in, but then again it’s not like our weekly per diem pays us enough to live like rock stars anyway.
    I smack Rusty’s arm, startling him awake before I open my door to get out. “Wake up, you snorin’ bastard. You’re damn lucky I didn’t have a pillow or anything else to suffocate your ass with.”
    “Quit trying to play tough, Holden. You like me too much to kill me.”
    “More like I like freedom too much.” I tease.
    “Ha! And you call this freedom?”
    He’s got me there.
    “Close enough. Plus, I don’t have to worry about dropping the soap with you around.” I joke.
    “Damn straight about that brother. Your asshole is safe around me.” You see, my buddy here is a bit on the homophobic side. I don’t know why, and I don’t really care to know. It’s not like guys hit on him. Hell, I’m better looking than he is and guys don’t hit on me either. The truth is that gay guys aren’t just going to walk up to you and try to get you naked. Sometimes, small town mentalities make people think all crazy — damn Bible-belters. But just like I don’t judge gays, I’m not judging my new buddy. It’s better to just be easy going. I’m not one to run toward conflict; in fact, I usually try to re-direct it elsewhere. It’s not because I’m a pussy and can’t deal. It’s just because I’ve always tried to be the peacemaker, which is mostly why I’m even here today.
    We make our way to the room, and I throw my bag on the floor before falling back onto my bed. It’s stiff as a three-day-old carcass. What I’d give for a soft, damn bed and a non-scratchy blanket. I swear these things feel like a mix between wool and a Brillo pad.
    “You’d think these places could at least afford mattresses that don’t feel like they are filled with cinder blocks, and blankets that won’t exfoliate you while you sleep.”
    “What I wonder is how do you even know what exfoliate is?” Rusty laughs. “I mean, I have three sisters and had no choice but to learn about all the foo-foo shit they do, but you? You’re an only child, right?” he asks.
    “Dude, you don’t have to be a chick to know about stuff chicks do. I’m sure plenty of guys actually do exfoliate.”
    “Yeah and I’m sure they tan and get pedicures, as well, while totally defiling their man card.”
    “There are plenty of straight guys that care that much about their appearances too. You know?”
    “Yeah, I’m starting to think you’re one of those guys.” He teases as he throws his pillow at me.
    “Fuck you man.” I toss it back,