“YYYYYY”
- License plate spotted on I-75.

1:44 a.m.: Get call from friend Jessa who’s been in the army for 28 months now. “You need to pick me up,” she says bluntly.
1:44:54 a.m.: It’s the middle of the night, I say. Where are you?
1:45 a.m.: “I’m still in Georgia. If you leave now we can eat breakfast together. There’s a bunch of places right here.”
1:45:23 a.m.: I can’t come now. It’s a five-hour drive, I say. “You have to,” she says. “I’m AWOL.”
1:45:40 a.m.: Are you serious? “Yes, I’ve been calling the bank all night waiting for my check to be direct deposited. I wanted to make sure I got paid at least one more time. Well, the money’s in and I’m gone.”
1:46 a.m.: I can’t believe it. “Oh, this convenience store I’m in has hats made out of turtle shells,” Jessa says. I’m going to get you one.” Hear Jessa asking clerk how much turtle shell hat is. “I’ll take it,” she says.
1:46:38 a.m.: No you’re not, I say. “I am unless he refuses to sell it to me. Here, you want to talk to him?” No. “Hello,” clerk says. “Hello.” Don’t sell her the turtle hat, I say. “Who are you?” he says.
1:47 a.m.: “I don’t think he likes you,” Jessa says getting back on the phone. I can’t be messing around, I tell her. Are you really AWOL? Because if you really are I will come but don’t make me…
1:47:14 a.m.: “Let me know when you’re 20 minutes out and I will order you a lumberjack breakfast,” she says. “Where do you want to eat? All the breakfast houses are here – Original Pancake House, Huddle House, Waffle House. The Waffle House looks cozy.”
2:12 a.m.: Get dressed and begin driving up I-95.
2:22 a.m.: Listen to a preacher on the radio for fiver hours. He keeps talking about God but he sounds like the devil.
7:34 a.m.: Jessa is sitting at the Waffle House with two huge plates in front of her. One is wiped out and the other is nearly clean. “I started on yours,” she says. “You want me to finish it?”
7:35 a.m.: Might as well, I say. She seems more contemplative than she did on the phone. You’re sure about this? I ask. “Sure as rain.”
7:36 a.m.: ‘Cause we could just go play paintball or something, I say. I won’t be mad. It’s good to see you anyway. “You can’t go up against me in paintball anymore,” she says. “I’m a soldier.”
7:40 a.m.: A little girl comes by the table, stares at Jessa, and says, “You look like Kim Possible.”
7:40:21 a.m.: “I am Kim Possible,” Jessa says. “But I’m on a secret mission so don’t tell anybody.” “I won’t,” the little girl says.
7:41 a.m. “And don’t tell anybody that I eat like a pig,” Jessa says as the little girl heads back to her mother.
7:42 a.m.: Overhear a waitress telling another couple that she visited a toothpaste factory on her last vacation. “Absolutely disgusting,” she says. “I’ll never brush my teeth again.”
7:43 a.m.: “Here comes the check. Lets get going,” Jessa says grabbing her duffle bag. “I don’t want to get caught.”
7:43:48 a.m.: By whom, the MPs? “Listen to you,” she says. “The MPs (italics). You’ve been watching too many movies.” What, there aren’t really MPs?”
7:44 a.m.: “Nobody even cares if you go AWOL. They don’t hunt you down or anything. I just won’t be able to get my college paid for anymore,” Jessa says. “And if you get pulled over by the police for a traffic violation it shows up and they can bust your balls about it but that’s about it. Remember Shanna? You met her last time you were up. She went AWOL 11 months ago and they’re still paying her. Didn’t even notice she was gone.”
7:45 a.m.: So whom don’t you want to get caught by? “Certain people,” she shrugs.
7:51 a.m.: As we’re pulling out of the parking lot I have to ask. This isn’t about some guy, is it? “Hell, no,” she says. What about that Matthew? “He got hit by a pickup truck in town and screwed up his back. He can’t do the fucking motion anymore. A girl’s got no use for a guy that can’t do the fucking motion. End of story.”
7:52 a.m.: Nobody else? “Stop it,” she says. “They’re all truly G.I. Joes – hard bodies with rubber heads. And the townies are worse. They all wear nut-hugger shorts and spend the entire weekend washing their cars. Total assholes. When you go out you don’t know whether they’re holding the door open for you as a courtesy or so they can rape you from behind.”
7:53 a.m.: “And then there’s the gays on base,” she says. “People complain about flamboyant gays but there’s nothing worse than gung-ho gays. They’re always having push-up contests.”
7:53:29 a.m.: Listen to yourself, I say. “I can’t,” she says.
7:55 a.m.: Jessa pats me on the knee, stares out the window and says. “Let’s not talk for two hours.” OK, I say.
10:11 a.m.: I’m gazing out at the farmland when Jessa sits back up. “You know, they always talk about how farm work is so hard but I’ve yet to see anybody working on a farm,” she says. “I’m not just talking about now. I mean, I must have driven past a thousand farms since I was a kid and I’ve yet to see one goddamn farmer out plowing the fields. Everything is bullshit. You know that.”
10:12 a.m.: I know that.
10:12:12 a.m.: “Even the notion that farmers work hard.”
10:12:31 a.m.: Agreed.
10:20 a.m.: “Oh, sheep,” Jessa says pressing her face against the window. “Look, they’ve just been sheared. I bet that’s the best time for the sheep - the time between shears. They know they’re free and clear for awhile, like life between dentist visits.”
10:27 a.m.: A car passes with a license plate that reads: YYYYYY. “That’s the first vanity plate I’ve ever liked. Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” Jessa says shaking her head.
10:31 a.m.: She turns up the radio. The preacher is long gone and a peppy voice is singing over and over, “Where did you get that blank expression on your face?”
10:33 a.m.: “This song reminds me of you,” she says.
10:33:23 a.m.: Do you really think they were going to send you back? I ask. “In 11 days,” she says quietly.
10:34 a.m.: Jessa sneezes and grabs a napkin. “Oh shit-kabobs,” she yells. “What the…” She pulls the napkin back and huge wads of pink gum are stretching out from her nose like taffy.
10:35 a.m.: “Why the hell didn’t you stop me?” she hollers. Don’t yell at me, I say. You picked up a used napkin. It was crumpled. I spit my gum out in it an hour ago. Oh God, its all over your face. Do you want me to stop?
10:36 a.m.: “No! I want you to die! What kind of gum is this? It smells like a circus.” Watermelon Bubblicious, I say. Three pieces. “Jesus…”
10:36:14 a.m.: “You are such a dickwad. Let’s not talk for an hour. ”
11:37 a.m.: “Thanks for picking me up.”
11:37:27 a.m.: Thanks for going AWOL.

…to be continued