It wasn't until 2am on their third night of being on the road that the full realization of what she'd done hit her smack in the face. She rolled out of the lumpy motel and mattress and took shaky steps to stand in front of the tiny discolored ceramic sink and splashed cool water on her face over and over while the pressed board furniture and faded wallpaper seemed to encroach ever closer.
She'd finally had what so many people longed for - a cozy home in a beautiful town, a spouse with a good and steady job, plenty of time to work on her writing. Her writing. How was she supposed to write now? She'd never been able to write without a certain amount of stability. And she'd just given up any sense of stability when she'd stepped on that gas pedal and drove away from town. And all for what? A feeling? Normal people didn't just uproot their lives over a feeling. She groaned. All those plot ideas and notes she'd made while staying in the cabin were going to come to nothing. She'd never get that book finished - she'd never even get started on the first draft. Her contract with the publisher would break, and she'd owe so much money to them for never delivering on the promised third book, and then she'd have no money at all, and then-
She felt a warm hand on her back.
"Are you all right?"
She looked up to see Jareth behind her, still half asleep but concerned.
She turned and threw her arms around him, half crying as she explained her fears.
"How am I supposed to write now? I'll never write again." she finished.
"You don't know that for certain, Precious. Never is an awfully long time. Let's think about this. The deadline for turning in your first draft is still ages away - you aren't in immediate danger of running out of time, are you?"
"No." she sniffed.
"And even if you do, it won't be the end of the world. I know it seems like it, and lawyers will involved, but Sarah - life will move on after all that. It won't be all doom and gloom forevermore."
"I had all that time in that cabin to actually get started, but I wasted it. How could I have let myself do that?"
"You're being too hard on yourself, love. What's done is done." A brief memory of almost similar words from decades ago flitted through his mind. "Give yourself a break. Don't worry about writing at all for now."
"But I'm-" she started to protest.
"I know, I know. You're a writer. But you're other things too." he turned her around so she was facing herself in the mirror. "You are more than what you have to offer the world, Sarah. If you stopped writing tomorrow and never put another word to paper, you wouldn't be any less for it. You won't have failed. It'll be okay. You don't owe anyone anything, especially if the giving of it makes you feel upset."
Sarah broke eye contact with herself in the mirror and looked up at Jareth's reflection. She wasn't completely convinced by his words, but they did help to quiet her mind. Maybe she didn't need to figure her entire life out at 2:30 in morning in a motel bathroom in the middle of nowhere. Surely there would be time for that in the motel lobby at 7:30 in the morning over the two cups of instant coffee that would be breakfast.
So she nodded and sighed and laid back down in bed with Jareth's arms still wrapped around her and waited for sleep to come.
Her mind still wandered towards what her agent would say, how angry her publisher would be, no matter what else she tried to think of. She wanted to squirm nervously, to release some of the anxiety, but Jareth was still holding her, and his breathing was steady and even. She debated to herself how much movement it would take to wake him and if her restlessness was worth that possibility when suddenly -
"I can drive tomorrow if you're not feeling up to it."
Sarah felt like she was going to have a heart attack. Well, clearly he was still awake after all. When the blood had stopped pounding in her ears and the cold sweat had finally passed, she replied to him.
"Yeah, I'd like that."
She rolled over so her back was against his chest, still in his embrace. His breathing was still quiet. She began to question now if this man ever actually slept. She thought back to all the other times in bed when she was awake with her thoughts and wondered how many of them he had been awake for also. Finally sufficiently distracted, she fell asleep to musing on whether or not Jareth's kind ever did sleep or if he was merely pretending to sleep all this time, and if that was the case was he doing so to avoid another awkward conversation that would remind her that he wasn't human or maybe was it because he just wanted an excuse to be close to her.
She awoke feeling tired. True to his word, Jareth drove for the rest of the day. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, sipping coffee from a travel mug and squinting out the window at the passing trees. She could feel a migraine coming on from the stress.
They stopped at a diner in the afternoon. Sarah was still feeling miserable as she glanced down the menu.
"What looks good?" he asked her.
"Nothing." she sighed.
He glanced up. "You should eat something, Love. All you've had is coffee today."
"Hmm." she lazily scanned the menu once more, considering just pointing at random and ordering that.
Jareth frowned at his menu.
"What is this rooty tooty nonsense." he muttered to himself.
Sarah managed a smile in spite of herself.
Jareth noticed her reaction. He shoved his menu in her direction and tapped a finger at one of the items.
"I want this one, Sarah. But I want you to order for it for me. Please?"
She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, trying and most likely failing to look sternly at the man across from her. He looked so serious about the breakfast order.
"I don't want to order it myself. Please?" he whispered.
She could see the mischief hiding just behind his pleading eyes.
"Fine." she took both menus.
They engaged in a staring contest until the young waiter came back to check on them. They held intense eye contact as they were asked if they were ready to order. Sarah leaned forward holding the menu up. She pointed to the menu item that consisted of a stack of pancakes covered in fruit.
"We both want this one."
Jareth narrowed his eyes.
"What fruit would you like?" the waiter scribbled on a notepad.
"Peach." they both replied at the same time, each one smirking.
She thanked the waiter as he took the menus and left, briefly breaking eye contact with Jareth.
"That's not how you order things off a menu, Sarah." Jareth sniffed.
Sarah shrugged. "It got ordered, didn't it?"
"Yes, but you didn't -say- it." he whined.
She shook her head and looked away. "I'm not saying it."
He sighed wearily, pushing the salt shaker around the table forlornly.
"Are you still not feeling good over what happened last night?" he asked after a while.
"I guess not. It feels like a cloud hanging over me still. I feel like I'm not going to make any progress and get absolutely nothing written down."
"Will feeling badly over it help you to write?"
"Well... no. I don't think so.
"Look at this way, Precious. If the end result is having written nothing either way, and feeling bad doesn't help in any form, why not skip feeling bad about it altogether?"
She took a sip of her ice water. "You might have something there."
"Of course I do." he replied as the waiter brought their pancakes to the table. "Now eat your fruity breakfast and let's get back out on the road."
