Chapter 40 Reubyn
Reubyn
Reubyn sits at the kitchen table, editing software open on his laptop.
On the screen, he’s walking a trail through the forest and turns his head to face the camera.
Reubyn can’t look, rolls his eyes upward.
He simply can’t look at that pudgy face.
Right now, he’d do anything to have a different face – to be someone else.
He stares vacantly into the living area.
On the TV is an American sitcom Reubyn can’t remember the name of, and the canned laughter that rumbles out of the speakers a few times per minute is completely at odds with the current mood.
There’s been a grim tension in the bus for the last few hours, and it’s only got worse since Elis skulked back about half an hour after Miles.
Elis offered no apology; in fact, he hasn’t uttered a word to George since he punched him earlier.
Now, the group appears to have split into three parts.
Or four, if you count Reubyn. Miles and Jessie are curled up in the corner, her head resting on his chest as they converse in hushed voices.
On the other side of the bus, George and Polly are sat, drinking wine and locked in a grim-faced discussion as they stare at the TV.
But Reubyn hasn’t been paying attention to either of these couples.
Instead, his gaze skims over the top of his computer screen, way down to the front of the bus, where Elis and Faith are in the passenger seats, with no discernible gap between them.
It looks cosy. Very cosy. When Elis returned from his sulk, he took the furthest available seat away from everyone else.
And Faith didn’t waste any time; within seconds she had moved down there to join him.
Reubyn knows he’s got no one to blame but himself.
He gave Faith the cold shoulder, pushed her away, and now she’s probably about to fall straight into the arms of Elis.
But, still, it’s hard not to feel emotional about it.
Everything has gone wrong. And Elis isn’t right for her.
That’s what Reubyn finds so frustrating; what his friends are looking for is so shallow – they’re motivated by one thing – and yet they get whatever they want.
Reubyn isn’t like them. Yes, sex would be nice, but all he really wants is a connection to someone.
He’d like to feel wanted. And he doesn’t even want much in return.
Certainly not anything weird. He’d just like to be present with someone, to lie with them.
Someone like Faith. Maybe she would whisper softly in his ear.
Stroke his hair. Is that too much to ask?
Apparently, yes. Nice guys finish last. It’s an old cliché, but for Reubyn it rings true.
If Faith had chosen him, he would’ve done anything for her, moved heaven and earth to make her happy and keep her from harm.
Elis won’t give a toss about her; he’ll probably use her and then move on to someone else.
Reubyn watches Elis’s every gesture, every expression, and they all look fake.
George was right; Elis should never have been invited on this trip.
Reubyn still has eyes on him a few minutes later, until his view is interrupted by George, who is out of his seat.
He’s begun clearing the floor and rearranging the furniture, to convert the space from living room to bedroom.
It’s gone ten o’clock, and it seems no one is in the mood to stay up late and socialise.
George has finished converting a bench into a bed and is carrying a large cushion across the room when the overhead lights cut out.
A split second later, the television cuts to black, and the fridge ceases its hum.
The sudden death of all noise inside the bus gives the whirling sound of the storm outside a new intensity.
And it’s fully dark apart from the artificial glow from Reubyn’s screen.
Its blue light illuminates him and no one else.
‘Reubyn,’ George says, from somewhere in the gloom. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, my friend, it appears we’ve run out of power.’
Groans and murmurs of dissatisfaction reverberate around the space, under the sound of drilling rain.
Polly appears by the table, faintly lit by the laptop. ‘What the hell? What do you mean we’ve run out? You never said anything about this!’
‘Okay, let me explain. Electricity is stored in batteries, and if you use the electricity within them, eventually the batteries run out.’
Polly places her hands over the table and leans across. ‘Don’t get smart with me, you know exactly what I mean. How can we have run out already?’
Reubyn shrugs. ‘They said it would last a few days without a recharge, but I guess we’ve been using more power than expected. I mean, it’s not really surprising, is it? We’ve had the air-con on pretty much non-stop, the telly, music, we’ve all been charging our devices . . .’
In the time it’s taken him to utter these few sentences, Miles, Jessie and George have joined Polly, and the four of them stare at him.
‘Please tell me we can still drive the bus?’ Miles says.
‘Of course we can. It’s just the leisure battery that’s run out.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah. The vehicle battery is separate, don’t worry.’
Miles exhales slowly, his shoulders untensing. ‘Thank God for that.’
‘It’s still not good, though, is it?’ George says. ‘My phone is on ten per cent.’
‘Who cares? We don’t have any signal or internet, anyway, why do you care about your phone?’
‘Because nothing works! We haven’t even got any lights!’
Reubyn tightens his lips to stop a smile from forming.
They’re completely overreacting. ‘It’s only for one night,’ he says.
‘And it’s getting late anyway – we’ll be going to sleep soon.
I’m really sorry, George, you’re going to have to brush your teeth in the dark, but guess what? Tomorrow, the sun will rise.’
‘Yes,’ George says. ‘And when it does, we better be getting the hell out of here.’
To underline his point, George maintains eye contact, and, for once, Reubyn chooses to hold his gaze.
Then he scans the other faces – all similarly serious.
They look utterly miserable. Angry, even.
In a strange way it feels like solidarity.
At least Reubyn’s not the only one. They’re stuck here now, for at least one more night, and they can all be miserable and angry together.