Highway Part 9

Highway Chapter 10

            He was an extraordinary person, that was to be sure. He had helped me up, grabbing my forearm instead of my hands because of the scrapes. He had even held on until he had been sure I wouldn’t take another nose dive.

I wanted to nail that stupid pretty boy jerk in his face. He had always been an idiot, and he made snarky comments, but this was the first time in a while he had physically attacked me. When we were little, I beat him up for making fun of my hair. He went crying to his mother, of course, and I got to spend several hours in the mayor’s office listening to a lecture.

The town just expected him to take care of the nuisance I had become, despite him not wanting to a single bit, so when I got in trouble it was where I went. Everyone in the office knew me, for it had become my second home. When I was bored, it had become my hobby to cause trouble on purpose. Eventually, he just got tired of it. I was too young to be kicked out without seeming morally wrong, and I hadn’t broken any laws. I pushed the limits of everything, but stayed within the boundaries. He started to essentially bribe me, with my house and the money I had saved up.

As I stared at the jock now, though, he seemed really boring compared to the man walking away. I realized he was getting my bag, retrieving it from where it had gone awry. He made his way back to me, but stopped in front of that stupid boy. And then, he became the best person in the world.

He told the boy not to trip people at first, but when he didn’t reply, he made a joke at his expense. The man speaking to him like the stupid boy he was, his face grew red with anger and embarrassment. The people around us started to laugh, for they knew it to be true. Seeing that expression on his face after he tripped me was priceless. I hadn’t known this man had such a sense of humor and wit.

As he had when I beat him up, he backed down. It was wise he didn’t try to get in a fight with the man, for he was taller and had a more powerful build. I also had the feeling he knew how to fight. He turned to me, and asked if I was ready to go. Feeling I was as ready as I was ever going to be, I nodded. But as we turned, I realized that I couldn’t leave without saying something to these people. They may have ruined my life, but it had made me change into something better. I would always resent them, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t thank them. Catching the man’s sleeve, I asked him to wait.He gave me a curious look, but followed the instruction.

Positioning myself in the middle of the circle of people, I took a long, hard look at every single one of them. I felt the memories come rushing back to me, and they made me so angry, but I could tell how they had all changed me. Whether this was change for the good or the bad, I would never know. All I knew is that I was about to embark on the biggest journey of my life, and I might have missed the opportunity if it hadn’t been for them. The man behind me had seen me as different, and that might have been from these people. They would never have such a journey, and suddenly I felt only pity for their lives of monotone and banal activities. I spoke, loud and clear,

“Ever since I was little, you guys have made my life a living hell. But now I know, that every one of you are the people that I need to feel sorry for. You can’t see anything but this town and your ‘perfect’ little lives. But your lives will mean nothing in a few years, and I will be happy. I bid you all farewell.”

And with that, and my head held high, I pivoted on my heels until I was turned the other way. I walked past the man, strutting with confidence and power. Even as I heard the murmurs, I didn’t look back. When the man caught up to me, his long strides outpacing my medium ones, I didn’t look back. And even when we were out of sight, I didn’t look back. I wouldn’t, for that would mean I cared something for the place and the people in it, and I was done with that. I would not look at the past, for I only cared for the future.

The man interrupted my thoughts, saying I should wash my hands for fear of infection. I had forgotten they were scraped in the first place, but now that I had turned my attention to them, they protested with a fiery and sharp stinging sensation. They scrapes had stopped bleeding, but the skin was still torn.

We stopped at the old pit stop in the back of the town. I went in to wash my hands while the man stayed outside. I ran my hands under the warm water and yelped at the pain. Still, it needed to be done to I pushed through the pain. While I washed, I reflected upon the events of the day.

How could my life change so much in a matter of a few hours? Here I was, in this tiny bathroom, with a man I didn’t even really know waiting outside for me, about to leave on a journey to who knows where, to achieve an “inner peace.” Fate sure had a sense of humor.

Oh, the soap stung so much. Keep going, I told myself, talking both about the soap and about what I was doing. Finishing up, I reached for the paper towels and gingerly patted my skin dry. My palms looked a lot better, but they were still pretty torn up. I would’ve liked to have seen the man punch him, but you can’t always get what you want.

I sighed, looking at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess, my eyes still puffy, my makeup smudged into practical inexistence expect for the ring around my eyes that made me look like a raccoon. I did my best to get it off, but there was still some of it there. I look so stupid, I told myself. But the truth was, I was probably the happiest id ever been in my life. It was like I was on an emotional rollercoaster, anguished and sorrowful one minute, and then happy-go-lucky and joyful the other. “Get it together, girl,” I thought to myself.

I found him outside, where he said he needed to talk to me. Suddenly nervous, I joined him on the bench. Before that though, he gave me a little tube of something that looked like Neosporin.

“It will help it heal faster,” he offered.

I took it from him, with quiet thanks. This gesture of kindness, though insignificantly small, was one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me. I suddenly felt bad now, because I remembered flashbacks to the bar. I yelled at him, I insulted him, I did everything nasty I could think of short of physically assaulting him. I might’ve even done that had I thought myself capable of putting up a fight.

Yet here he was, handing me ointment for my little scrapes. He had also looked at me with a genuine smile of happiness when I had crash landed in front of him, like I was exactly what he had wanted to see. The only things he had ever done were nice, and all the things I had done were mean. I resolved to apologize to him later, even though it wasn’t generally my thing.

He started to talk about me being sure about this choice. When I tried to interrupt my displeasure, he silenced me with a hand and kept talking. He should know by now that I don’t do things and give up on them.

But was that true? I gave up piano, soccer, and every kind of sewing project I had ever done. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t really gone through with anything. But this was different, I told myself. This would be my thing.

I had folded up one leg on the bench, making a little bowl, while my other leg almost touched the ground. It was the position I sat in I was planning on listening to something. Music, nature, and now the man.

He spoke of believing in me, and again this caused my heart to stutter. It seemed no matter how trifling or trivial the action, his kindness was something so foreign and yet so wonderful. He asked me if I was going to stick with this, and not expecting the question, I stuttered out my answer, glancing back and forth between him and the ground.

“I originally thought to go because you were so different than everyone, just like me. Then I thought, why not, I have nothing here for me anyway. While I am still mostly there, I want to be like you in a way as well. You just seem so content with the world right now. I still think you are a little bit crazy, but I think so am I. The crazy people need to stick together right?”

He smiled for a second, and I was proud of my achievement.

“I think I am ready for it all,” I said quiety.

He raised his eyebrows at me, and I thought a bit too late that I had sounded out an insecurity. I glanced at him again, and steeled myself for a second try. You have nothing to lose, I told myself. You are readier than you ever will be again.

I took a deep breath and said, “I mean I AM ready. Not I think. I know I am ready. One hundred percent into this.”

I was glad to find that this time, my resolve and confidence rang true.

“All right then!” He said with a deep breath, sounding satisfied with my answer. “Let's get going! We got at least a few miles ahead of us, maybe more until we hit a good spot to camp!”

What? Is he kidding?

“Five miles or more? Why the hell is he so perky about it?” I mumbled under my breath.

He practically sprang out  of his seat like a young deer. He was speed walking now, leaving me scrambling for my stuff. I yelled at him,

“Wait up! Don’t be a jerk! Come on!”

Now he was walking faster, and I could tell it was just for his own amusement. Great, I have a wonderful traveling partner. I caught up to him after a short run, grumbling something about idiots and certain blond haired men being in that category and giving him the nastiest glare I could muster. Thus we began our trek across the stretch of highway ahead of us.