(no subject)
The tall yellowed grass blurred outside the station wagon. Evan ran with it, his eyes concentrating on each blade, trying to sort each thin strand into its entirety in the minute part of a second that it passed before his eyes. He stared out the window with the intent look that children have-that intent look like confusion or frustration, that hardens into a seriousness with age. A practiced adult look on twelve year old face.
Evan let his eyes rest and followed the grass deep out into the yellow field where he could make out things. The field began to grow barer as the car went along, with patches of mustard seed and deep tire tracks in the earth. There was a bend in the road ahead, and Evan felt the momentum from the turn pull him closer to the glass. He pressed his forehead against the window. The bend straightened, and Evan looked out and watched a wire fence slide into view, breaking off the yellow plain into a jagged green of thick brush and slim tree trunks.
He pulled his head from the glass and turned to his father who was guiding the car along the stretch.
“How we doing kid?” he asked, keeping both eyes on the road.
“Fine.” Evan looked away from his father and out straight at the road in front of the car.
“Look, I don’t think we’re going to get home in time for dinner.” He looked down at his son sitting back in the large seat.
“Was there anything you felt like having?”
“No.”
He glimpsed briefly at the road and back to his son.
“Well, keep your eyes open.” He looked out the window and raised his thumbs up off the steering wheel and repositioned his grip along its treads.
The sun grew lower with thirty miles. The father looked to the side of the steering wheel and turned on the car’s lights.
He looked at his son. His face was raised a bit, leaning back in the seat. His hands rested flat atop his bare knees, just below the cuff of his green streaked shorts, and just above his scabby green knees. His hair ran into his eyebrows, curling into a slight bend at the sides and back.
The father turned his gaze again to the road.
“Jesus kid, you sure got one head of hair. You got that from your mother.”
He turned to his son. Evan remained unmoved. He turned back towards the road. They passed a marker. It told them that Tomah was four miles away, that Baraboo was 58, and that Madison was 101. They were going to Madison.
“You’re going to fall asleep Evan. Are you getting tired?”
“I’m not tired.”
“We should get some food in you, so you can keep up. There’s a McDonald’s up at this next exit. Does that sound good to you?”
“Sure.”
“Alright.” He tapped the wheel with his thumbs. “Mc-a-Dee’s,” he said to himself.
He waited until they came upon the exit, then turned on his blinker and rode up the off ramp. The McDonald’s was across the street from an old Amoco. The gas station was pushed back from the street, behind two gray gas pumps with the older gauges that scrolled and ticked away. Evan stared at the pumps as the car turned into the McDonald’s lot.
His father circled the car round the restaurant and came back to the spot where he entered. He slowed the car and scratched his head.
“Huh...It looks like the McDonalds’ in Tomah don have any drive-thrus.” He looked at his son and smiled.
“Where are we, huh?”
Evan looked down at his knees and didn't say anything.
The father steered the car into a spot and put it in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his feet outside the door.
“Evan.” He sat turned in his seat. “Are you coming inside?”
Evan sat unmoved; his hands in his lap across the seat belt still around his waist.
“Evan.” He reached over and placed his hand atop his son’s knee, and rocked it back and forth.
“Come on kid. Let’s go inside and get something to eat. Whattaya say?”
Evan glimpsed out the window, then turned his head and drew his gaze below his father’s eyes.
“Sure.” He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.
They closed the doors behind them.
“Get whatever you want Evan.” His father pushed open the restaurant door, and Evan walked in underneath his father’s extended arm.
Evan let his eyes rest and followed the grass deep out into the yellow field where he could make out things. The field began to grow barer as the car went along, with patches of mustard seed and deep tire tracks in the earth. There was a bend in the road ahead, and Evan felt the momentum from the turn pull him closer to the glass. He pressed his forehead against the window. The bend straightened, and Evan looked out and watched a wire fence slide into view, breaking off the yellow plain into a jagged green of thick brush and slim tree trunks.
He pulled his head from the glass and turned to his father who was guiding the car along the stretch.
“How we doing kid?” he asked, keeping both eyes on the road.
“Fine.” Evan looked away from his father and out straight at the road in front of the car.
“Look, I don’t think we’re going to get home in time for dinner.” He looked down at his son sitting back in the large seat.
“Was there anything you felt like having?”
“No.”
He glimpsed briefly at the road and back to his son.
“Well, keep your eyes open.” He looked out the window and raised his thumbs up off the steering wheel and repositioned his grip along its treads.
The sun grew lower with thirty miles. The father looked to the side of the steering wheel and turned on the car’s lights.
He looked at his son. His face was raised a bit, leaning back in the seat. His hands rested flat atop his bare knees, just below the cuff of his green streaked shorts, and just above his scabby green knees. His hair ran into his eyebrows, curling into a slight bend at the sides and back.
The father turned his gaze again to the road.
“Jesus kid, you sure got one head of hair. You got that from your mother.”
He turned to his son. Evan remained unmoved. He turned back towards the road. They passed a marker. It told them that Tomah was four miles away, that Baraboo was 58, and that Madison was 101. They were going to Madison.
“You’re going to fall asleep Evan. Are you getting tired?”
“I’m not tired.”
“We should get some food in you, so you can keep up. There’s a McDonald’s up at this next exit. Does that sound good to you?”
“Sure.”
“Alright.” He tapped the wheel with his thumbs. “Mc-a-Dee’s,” he said to himself.
He waited until they came upon the exit, then turned on his blinker and rode up the off ramp. The McDonald’s was across the street from an old Amoco. The gas station was pushed back from the street, behind two gray gas pumps with the older gauges that scrolled and ticked away. Evan stared at the pumps as the car turned into the McDonald’s lot.
His father circled the car round the restaurant and came back to the spot where he entered. He slowed the car and scratched his head.
“Huh...It looks like the McDonalds’ in Tomah don have any drive-thrus.” He looked at his son and smiled.
“Where are we, huh?”
Evan looked down at his knees and didn't say anything.
The father steered the car into a spot and put it in park. He unbuckled his seat belt and placed his feet outside the door.
“Evan.” He sat turned in his seat. “Are you coming inside?”
Evan sat unmoved; his hands in his lap across the seat belt still around his waist.
“Evan.” He reached over and placed his hand atop his son’s knee, and rocked it back and forth.
“Come on kid. Let’s go inside and get something to eat. Whattaya say?”
Evan glimpsed out the window, then turned his head and drew his gaze below his father’s eyes.
“Sure.” He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door.
They closed the doors behind them.
“Get whatever you want Evan.” His father pushed open the restaurant door, and Evan walked in underneath his father’s extended arm.