(no subject)
My initial reaction was to avoid this man as much as possible. Even though we were related I had found that most interactions with him were distant and at times unsavory. He was an older man that had stopped caring about being politically correct and made sure his last viewpoints on this earth were heard by whomever chose to listen. He was abrasive and I hadn't the social skills to know exactly how to deal with it correctly. Most of the time his words were nervously laughed off or I just nodded my head in agreement. Not today though. "I'm ready to go." He announced in a grunt, boarish man I thought. The feeling of my coat going on over my sweatshirt was surreal as if I couldn't believe this was going on. I expected someone to jump out of a hiding place and tell me it was a joke, relieve me. No one came for me. I heard the door slam meaning I was already behind him in his rush. I had wanted to make a good impression. Buttoning my coat and putting my mittens on I stood by the window and watched him scrape the ice and snow from his pick up truck. A bench seat. For some reason that irritated me. The truck was a beat up old thing and I wondered if it had the spirit to carry us all the way to town. I had stood there longer than I intended and hurried out just as he started the engine. The sound of gasoline blood hitting every artery at a cool 15 degrees was somewhat startling. The beastly thing roared for a moment getting adjusted to itself as I shut my door. It was not warm inside the cab as I seem to always hope whenever I got in a car during the winter. Expectation is such an odd sensation. He looked at me for a moment "Took you long enough girlie, I had to scrape the whole thing by myself before you came running out. Were you waiting for me to finish?" I regarded this as a statement instead of a question. No answer I could give would result in forgiveness or a new outlook on me. So I opened my mouth anyway "Sorry, I was getting my coat on." He gave a slight grimace towards me. I honestly couldn't tell if that was his regular face or a special face he was making just to show me his disdain. How peculiar, I imagined, to have a constant look of disapproval. I wondered if people tried harder around him in his life. We had finished backing out of the driveway and I was still waiting for someone to come running up to the vehicle to stop it. Still no one came.
He shifted into gear and the truck whined as we accelerated into the barren landscape of patchy farms and forest. My plan had been to gaze out the window intently or to fall asleep to avoid him in an unavoidable situation. If I kept my head down and my body turned away maybe he'd take the hint I didn't want to talk. He didn't seem a man of many words anyway. I find it interesting how easy it is to lose yourself in such a small space as a pick up cab. The seats were still cold after the first 10 minutes but the air from the vents finally had turned summery and offered a somewhat musty smell that was somehow soothing. The melodious hum of the tires on the pavement seemed to lull us both into a suspended state between insecurity and apathy. I looked over my shoulder at him nonchalantly. His eyes were fixated on the road and his hand idly searched for something in the duffle bag he'd brought along containing his son's belongings. "What're you looking for?" I asked and turned over, trying to seem nice. "A cigarette." he didn't look away from the road. "I can find it for you." I grabbed the bag from him and knew his son kept his cigarettes in the outside pocket. "Here" I took one from the pack and handed it to him. The lighter came next I remembered and also dug that out of the bag. The familiar chink of the lighter and the hiss of inhalation reminded me of his son. They really looked similar. The pungeant smell of tobacco soon filled the car and I regretted wearing perfume, it seemed like a waste now. All I could think about was the few hours ahead of me and that man and how much I couldn't wait for it to be over. I had started to resent him less. However I don't think resentment was the right word either, it was more of a reverence, of a fear I suppose. But as he drove this busted up truck with the seats squeaking whenever we hit a bump, he looked harmless somehow. The thought began to enter my mind he was just an average person. Back home he had his girlfriend and in the next town was his son. I crossed my arms content with this new idea and let the heat vents warm my cold extremities. The frost had begun to leave the windows and the engine sounded smoother as my eyes seemed to shut after finding that outside was getting darker and the snow becoming brilliant in the headlights.
A bout of turbulence had awakened me as my head thumped against the window. I sat up and sighed trying to recover my memory from before I had fallen asleep. Stale tobacco filled my nose as the ashtray on the dashboard ( once a cup holder ) gave way to 5 new butts that had not been there before. "Where are we?" I asked but my throat still sounded half asleep. "Still got about an hour and a half." He informed me, he hadn't changed since i had fallen asleep. His coat still over his sweatshirt and snow still on his boots. The only thing different was his hat was pushed back on his head now. It looked rather ridiculous. I reached into my bag to grab my book and all at once the winter had penetrated to Hell. "You know I don't dislike you." he said out of the blue. My body was still bent over itself and my hand in my bag but my head was now intent on him. "I know." i lied, "I don't dislike you either." He seemed to ease up at this point in time. The harsh air of distance evaporated as his shoulders slumped and his eyes now left the road to glance at me. "My son asked me to drive you, he knew his sister wouldn't come all this way." His eyes darted to me and to t road again where they remained for a few minutes. "Well thank you, it means a lot to both of us." I attained my book and sat up, back firm against the seat. "I guess he thinks we don't get along."
"I've never really had a chance to talk with you."
"Seems that way for both of us."
"Yeah."
Silence was waiting behind our words and returned to center stage once our voices had stopped. He cleared his throat as an indicator more was to come I'd imagine. "He's very fond of you." He said to me. "I'm very fond of him." My eyes were cast outside again trying to reel in some part of nature that was hidden behind the trees moving past us at 50 mph. He seemed content with this answer and slumped more, now easing out of his coat one arm at a time while he drove. The cab had become quite warm, I guess I hadn't noticed until now. It had begun to snow and the flakes melted as soon as they hit the windshield. The squeegy squeak of the wipers echoed through both of us. "I've never been this far north." I started, he interrupted me,"I wouldn't imagine so." Whether this was a racial comment or not I hadn't decided but I just let it go,"I've never been out of the country actually." I continued ignoring his interruption. "I haven't been far either. There is nostalgia here though." He replied as if remembering something.
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Part one.
This is fiction.
He shifted into gear and the truck whined as we accelerated into the barren landscape of patchy farms and forest. My plan had been to gaze out the window intently or to fall asleep to avoid him in an unavoidable situation. If I kept my head down and my body turned away maybe he'd take the hint I didn't want to talk. He didn't seem a man of many words anyway. I find it interesting how easy it is to lose yourself in such a small space as a pick up cab. The seats were still cold after the first 10 minutes but the air from the vents finally had turned summery and offered a somewhat musty smell that was somehow soothing. The melodious hum of the tires on the pavement seemed to lull us both into a suspended state between insecurity and apathy. I looked over my shoulder at him nonchalantly. His eyes were fixated on the road and his hand idly searched for something in the duffle bag he'd brought along containing his son's belongings. "What're you looking for?" I asked and turned over, trying to seem nice. "A cigarette." he didn't look away from the road. "I can find it for you." I grabbed the bag from him and knew his son kept his cigarettes in the outside pocket. "Here" I took one from the pack and handed it to him. The lighter came next I remembered and also dug that out of the bag. The familiar chink of the lighter and the hiss of inhalation reminded me of his son. They really looked similar. The pungeant smell of tobacco soon filled the car and I regretted wearing perfume, it seemed like a waste now. All I could think about was the few hours ahead of me and that man and how much I couldn't wait for it to be over. I had started to resent him less. However I don't think resentment was the right word either, it was more of a reverence, of a fear I suppose. But as he drove this busted up truck with the seats squeaking whenever we hit a bump, he looked harmless somehow. The thought began to enter my mind he was just an average person. Back home he had his girlfriend and in the next town was his son. I crossed my arms content with this new idea and let the heat vents warm my cold extremities. The frost had begun to leave the windows and the engine sounded smoother as my eyes seemed to shut after finding that outside was getting darker and the snow becoming brilliant in the headlights.
A bout of turbulence had awakened me as my head thumped against the window. I sat up and sighed trying to recover my memory from before I had fallen asleep. Stale tobacco filled my nose as the ashtray on the dashboard ( once a cup holder ) gave way to 5 new butts that had not been there before. "Where are we?" I asked but my throat still sounded half asleep. "Still got about an hour and a half." He informed me, he hadn't changed since i had fallen asleep. His coat still over his sweatshirt and snow still on his boots. The only thing different was his hat was pushed back on his head now. It looked rather ridiculous. I reached into my bag to grab my book and all at once the winter had penetrated to Hell. "You know I don't dislike you." he said out of the blue. My body was still bent over itself and my hand in my bag but my head was now intent on him. "I know." i lied, "I don't dislike you either." He seemed to ease up at this point in time. The harsh air of distance evaporated as his shoulders slumped and his eyes now left the road to glance at me. "My son asked me to drive you, he knew his sister wouldn't come all this way." His eyes darted to me and to t road again where they remained for a few minutes. "Well thank you, it means a lot to both of us." I attained my book and sat up, back firm against the seat. "I guess he thinks we don't get along."
"I've never really had a chance to talk with you."
"Seems that way for both of us."
"Yeah."
Silence was waiting behind our words and returned to center stage once our voices had stopped. He cleared his throat as an indicator more was to come I'd imagine. "He's very fond of you." He said to me. "I'm very fond of him." My eyes were cast outside again trying to reel in some part of nature that was hidden behind the trees moving past us at 50 mph. He seemed content with this answer and slumped more, now easing out of his coat one arm at a time while he drove. The cab had become quite warm, I guess I hadn't noticed until now. It had begun to snow and the flakes melted as soon as they hit the windshield. The squeegy squeak of the wipers echoed through both of us. "I've never been this far north." I started, he interrupted me,"I wouldn't imagine so." Whether this was a racial comment or not I hadn't decided but I just let it go,"I've never been out of the country actually." I continued ignoring his interruption. "I haven't been far either. There is nostalgia here though." He replied as if remembering something.
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Part one.
This is fiction.