Pickups
Of a broken town and people with dreams
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and his knuckles go white. Soreness from work at the factory is distant and alien as he peers through the windscreen. There it is — the empty brick building with its stark chimneys looms in the empty parking lot.
Streetlights cast their yellow light through an eerie mist that fills his lungs with thick air. Huddled in the front seat of his Ford pickup, he is the captain of a lost ship on the ocean. An overwhelming urge to flee comes crashing on him like a ton of bricks while his stomach twists and turns. This town is your hometown. You belong here. Do you think you can make it out of here? Fool!
He wipes sweat from his forehead and takes a deep breath before he revs the engine and sets off into the night. Hands trembling, silhouettes of trees whizzing by. After the bridge over Hollow Creek, there is a clearing where the Jones family lives. They used to own the diner downtown, and childhood memories of him playing with Rick and Bert get stuck in his throat. Big men don’t cry!
They’re living on rice and beans now. As he drives past their house, he sees blue light from the TV flash behind windows. It must be their parents watching. Rick and Bert are on the front porch, rocking back and forth in their chairs with a pitbull sleeping between them.
He presses his fingers against his neck, trying to kill a headache. It’s the potholes, he mutters to himself.
A bar sign screams, but he must settle his debts. There is no money to water his dry roots.
Headlights swipe over downtown buildings. Kids sitting on the sidewalk like a monster wave has thrown them around. They’re too wasted to even notice the hard light from his car. He cranks up the car stereo to drown out the noise of people having a blast. He forces himself to chuckle at the image of them all being hung over and useless tomorrow. Why are you even here? Whatever answer he has in the back of his mind vanishes into a sickening darkness that he can’t explain.
Headlights catch a girl in jeans and a T-shirt emerging out of an alleyway between shut-down stores. She throws her head around and looks like a startled deer for a second. Then she sticks out her thumb. I’m already pushing my luck with the gauge on zero, he convinces himself. Will she be here tomorrow? I’ll fill up the tank and drive her away. Maybe we’ll buy a nice little house and someday have kids.
Gone is the heavy air in his lungs, his breathing is fast now. He looks at the gold watch his father gave him and caresses it with his fingers. The pawnshop is open around the clock. Tomorrow, I will no longer be stuck in a rut.
All her hopes have shrunk into a black bag and the highway.
Her pockets are empty, she travels by charm and tries to find a place without parole. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.
When she told her soulmates she loved them, they changed the subject and faded away. Doors will open! Don’t give up! She lived hoping, and men came and went until the last one drove into her life in a black Chevy pickup and changed all her locks.
After she broke out, they never found the crowbar, but despite her best efforts, they finally tracked her down and slammed the cell door on her. They kept on slamming it for the next eight years.
Just as she is about to pull a hoodie from the bag, lights sweep through the darkness. It’s like a stone-cold knife through her spine and it numbs her for a second. No! Stand tall, walk proud! She grabs the fear and throws it in the garbage bin, as they taught her in the program.
Yes, nothing to worry about this time! The red lights become distant as the shadows creep over her again. With some luck, she will get a few hours of sleep.
The crunching sound of wheels pulls her out of the slumber. The town lies dead silent as the contours of a pickup appear out of the pale morning light.
