rae_anne

602

Driving into the sunrise, nothing but open sky on either side of the highway, I was completely content until I almost hit a body. So I hit the brakes and ran out, I knew I hadn't hit them but what if I had, oh god I'd be a murder.

It was a girl; I knelt beside her and moved her raven black hair out of the way, trying to find a pulse. Cursing myself for not paying attention in gym when we did pulse timing, it was nothing short of a miracle I found hers. Luckily, as faint as it was it was there, and she was breathing.

I put my hand on her forehead, figuring I couldn't go wrong with bring her to gently, and whispered, "Hey, its morning. I'm Ryan, and-"

She sat up so abruptly, I jumped back. I wasn’t sure who was more scared of the situation, and we sat there breathing heavily and waiting for her to get her bearings. As she became more aware, the glassy look behind her eyes slowly disappeared. Then she started swearing, muttering how she couldn't believe they just left her.

"Are you alright?" I tentatively asked.

The look she gave me was answer enough, and she might not have been bleeding but whoever left her didn't think she'd make it were they were going so it couldn't hurt if I just-

"Do you want to come with me? I mean I can give you a ride if you want me to, or I mean, I'm sorry" I stumbled over my words. Internally I wished I hadn't stopped at all, knowing the fact I'm simply too awkward for human interaction. If the girl noticed my internal angst, she didn't mention it. Which was nice of her.

After thinking for another minute, she nodded before saying, "If your offer still stands, I need a ride about a town over."

There was no hesitation in my decision, she seemed quiet enough to give a ride to. Even if the next town on the map was over six hundred kilometers away. I could drive all night, if she couldn't.

568 km

We had officially been sitting still in the car for an hour, and I had officially heard every song on the blasted radio before the static cut out the last of the song.

I wondered what she was thinking about, me or if she was just lost in space. I wasn't sure if she was judging my van, bright blue, old Volkswagen bus or the internal cloth to take away from the gross grey interior, or the fact the back seats had been rearranged to fold down and put a mattress down the middle. I tried not to dwell on the inside, as much as the faces she had made initially on the radio playing.

"Hey, Tulip, can I plug in my iPod?" she finally said.

"Sure," I replied, then realizing nickname, “Wait, Tulip?"

"Well would you like Wildflower better?" she quipped, smirking.

I then realized then this wouldn't be a quiet trip.

564 km

"Fine, I can be Tulip,” I said, giving into the nickname.

512 km

All in all Lil Rebel (as I had nicknamed in my head) didn't have to bad a music taste. Occasionally the senseless screaming auto tuned beyond belief became a bit much, but after the first song, she put on a different playlist. It seemed to fit the scenery, and I wondered if she did this a lot.

"You know you really shouldn't get into cars with strangers right?" came out of my mouth.

Without making eye contact, "I get into cars with strange men all the time, and you're the least dangerous so far."

I thought that over, considering I sure didn't have malicious intent, but things I was involved in usually went to hell in a hand basket. And I wasn't looking for a repeat.

"I could be like an ax murder or something,"  I protested, not look at her.

"You have a cooler full of fresh cherries and sprite. Unless its poisonous." she retorted.

Technically, I had stolen the cherries from a farm, a “Pick Your Own” cherry farm and it was too early for anyone to be up yet.  Not the worst thing I’d ever done but it wasn’t nice.

Instead I wrapped myself in my flannel shirt and laughed, “Touché.”

She took a cherry and spit the seed out the window, looked right at me and laughed too.

394 km

             It was just past two when I saw the sign for a picnic area. So I pulled in, and stopped the car. Nudging the figure near sleep in the passenger seat, she looked over at me.

“Tulip, where are we?” she asked.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, want more cherries?”

She shrugged back, “I guess I could use a break,” and jumped out of the car.

I followed her out, carrying the cherries to a picnic bench near a sorry looking river.

My companion had taken to the bench, lying down, her dark purple hoodie as a pillow, dark hair contrasting her white tank top.

“Why do people leave, Tulip?” she wondered aloud.

“I don’t know, everything happens for a reason though,” I finally replied.

“That’s an incredibly overused and not the whole truth. Like if everything happens for a reason, then why don’t we get answers to things or just a why things happen. And its not even usually a good reason.” She looked at me, eyes begging for me to understand.

Choosing my words carefully, ”Well, I guess everything happens because we need things to keep moving forwards and certain people hold us back, I guess.”

She pondered that for a moment, I could see the gears shifting in her brain.

“Is that why you’re living out of the back of your van?”

            I didn’t have a good answer for that, and I wasn’t sure if that made her right, or if it makes me confused. So I said nothing, and looked her over, for the tenth time since she had joined me.

 She looked older than she should be, something in her eyes. She’d seen horrible things and then been left on the side of the road. And I’m just a ride to bring her back. What does that make me? I tried to push that thought away, but no such luck.

“How old are you?” I spoke after a minute.

“What month are we?” she inquired softly.

“End of August.” I choose not to dwell on how she had no idea the months, then to be fair, in summer everything gets messed around.

“Fifteen, then.”

At fifteen I was being raised in a nice little house, and was going to school daily. There’s some things you don’t talk about, and even I could tell we were near that point. So I waited. And waited. And waited.

“Can we do something? I feel my nose burning.” She finally said. Conversation finished. I wasn’t sure it started.

327 km

As we sat in the car, I realized I knew the song. How could I forget it, Mr. Brightside by the Killers? An anthem of messed up teenagers everywhere, shouted from rooftops and forever imbedded in flesh via tattoo.

Waiting through the intro chords, looking her in the eyes and-

“COMING OUT OF MY CAGE AND I’VE BEEN DOING JUST FINE!” We sang loudly and off key the rest of the song. Laughing our way through the guitar solo and ended dramatically.

“That. Was. Amazing. I didn’t know you had that in you Tulip,” she joked.

“I had a grunge phase too, you know,” I joked back.

“In 2004?” she raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not my fault it’s a good song. And you where what, five at the time?” I challenged.

“It’s not my fault it’s a good song,” she badly mimicked back.

I knew from a young age how much I loved music; it captivated me and was an ever present light. I got a Walkman for my eight birth day and used it day and night until it broke, then saved up allowance for a new one. People will hurt you and stab you in the back and come and go, but music is always there.

“Music is pretty amazing isn’t it?” I thought aloud.

“The galaxy is pretty big,” she responded, “I’m glad I exist with this music right now.”

And then we let the next instrumental cover play as we flew over the pavement.

248 km

There comes a point where you can drive no further, where your heel hurts beyond belief, and you need to sleep.

I hit that point at eleven.

There was no one insight, and on an off road highway, the cherries long since eaten and so we sat in the back on the bed, wrapped in a blanket.

“I am strangely content with my place in the universe right now,” my companion said to the stars before being blinded by her eyelids.

I didn’t have a moment to ponder that before I passed out.

248 km

I woke with the sun, shaking her awake and finally promised coffee from a store if she got up now. That did the trick.

We were off to find a Tim Horton’s.

180 km

Since there are so many out there, it was barely half an hour (ten minutes once we found the major highway), to drive to one, pick out a selection of muffins and two extra large coffees, and hit the road.

2 km

We reached the town by nine. It was warming up, but I didn’t want to leave her here alone, I didn’t want to leave her period. I couldn’t adopt her, this was a mid-university year off, I couldn’t adopt a fifteen year old at twenty three when I could barely take care of myself at the moment.

“Do you know where your friends might be?” I asked my companion.

“Judging by the, never mind, sorry, yeah just drop me off at the next gas station,” she muttered more to herself than me.

I complied, stopping at the Husky station on the corner; I had no idea what to say.  So instead, watched as my very brave friend walk out of my van.

“Thank you,” she said, and right before she closed the door I managed to say, “Your welcome,” just cut off by a closing door.

I was suddenly not okay with my place in the universe. But she was gone. And I still had no idea why people leave.

 
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