"Struggling with all that time alone to self-reflect already?"
Robby isn't expecting the sudden rush of homesickness that hits him the minute he hears Jack's voice.
He's only been gone a week.
He can't quite believe that seven days ago he left Pittsburgh behind, knowing he wouldn't be returning for three months. He hadn't looked back as the familiar skyline grew smaller behind him. Instead, he'd kept his eyes on the long stretch of highway ahead, his motorbike rumbling between his legs, a freedom he hadn't felt in far too long growing with every mile he put in between him and home.
There was no real plan beyond getting on his bike and travelling around the country. There was no itinerary, no list of tourist destinations to visit, and no hotel rooms booked. The lack of a plan could have been terrifying, not knowing where he would be resting his head each night; instead, Robby has found it liberating.
Even with his newfound freedom and a thousand possible options of where to travel to next, there's a feeling that follows him from town to town, like he's forgotten something. It's not anything he's forgotten to pack, and he left work in the capable hands of Dr Al-Hashimi, and yet that niggling sensation is still there.
Maybe it's just the people he misses. The faces he's so used to seeing almost every day. It's a shock to the system to suddenly go without. It's the reason why he calls Jack. Sometimes he can't believe there was a time in his life when he and Jack didn't know each other. Jack has been a constant presence in his life for years, so much so that life before Jack feels almost like someone else's memories.
It's late when he grabs his phone from beside him and finds Jack in his recent calls list. On any other night, Robby knows a call to Jack at this time would go straight to voicemail, but he has his schedule memorised and knows he's off for the next couple of nights. He also knows Jack'll be up, keeping to his usual sleep pattern.
"It's actually much easier to think out here without your constant jabbering in my ear," Robby returns easily.
He likes how they're long past 'hello' and 'how are you'. They get right to the heart of the conversation.
"Where are you?"
"Kentucky, you?"
"My kitchen, making tea."
Car headlights pass his motel room window, temporarily illuminating the strikingly retro wallpaper. It's not what he would have picked, but beggars can't be choosers.
"And work? Everyone surviving without me?"
"You really want to know?"
"Wouldn't have asked if I didn't."