A story that didn’t quite make it.
“Pull over!” exclaims Tim, my annoying little shit of a brother. He smushes his face against the window to like an excited dog. “C’mon, Greyson. Pull over!” he whines.
I look out his window to see what he’s getting excited over and I automatically know it’s trouble.
What I see is a hitchhiker. A lean, tall, curvy, Jessica Rabbit look-alike hitchhiker. Strangely enough what I notice about her first isn’t her chest, but her converse.
Let’s get one thing clear, I’m not gay. I have nothing against gay people or anything. Two guys or girls sleeping together? Sure, whatever, hooray for gay. I’m just telling you that I like boobs.
Anyway, back to the girl’s shoes.
I’m not sure if there’s a color in existence to describe how red these shoes were. They weren’t your average pair of red converse. Not crimson… They’re just so fucking… red…. Ruby red.
“I will give you a hundred- a thousand dollars- I will give you my SOUL to pick her up.” he pleads.
I drive past her without hesitation.
“Shut up.” I tell him.
Tim places one hand on the window, his eyes glued onto the hitchhiker. He turns to me slowly with the most pathetic look on his pale face.
“She could be an illegal immigrant.”
“She’s white.”
“Your point?”
He takes the straw out of his empty soda and uses it as a microphone. In a very accurate Oprah Winfrey voice he says, “Okay Timmy, we’ve got the Make A Wish Foundation sitting in the front row and they want to know what your last will be.”
I roll my eyes. “She could be a homocidal maniac for all we know.”
He angles himself differently and uses a little kids voice, “Well golly, Oprah. There are so many things a sick kid like me could wish for. A new bike, some legos, a choo-choo train… But I guess the thing I want most in the world right now is for my brother to grow a pair of balls and do something adventerous for once.”
I let that sink in for about 5 seconds then slam the brakes. “Okay fine.”
“Thank you!”
“But she gets to ride in the front with me.”
“Deal.”
I drive back to where the girl was and without any hesitation whatsoever she grabs her bag and hops the car and Tim climbs in the back.
She’s more beautiful up close.
”Thank you so much! It’s so hot out there and you two are the first car I’ve seen on this road today.” she chirps. She has a southern accent. You don’t notice it at first but her “ay” sound is drawn out. I wonder where she’s from. I wonder if that’s what Tim and I sound like.
Tim stares at her in awe and I don’t blame him. “Hey, I’m Tim.”
She looks behind her and her smile fades away for a moment because she’s had a good look at his face. She sees that he’s whiter than a sheet a paper. I’m always around him so I’m used to seeing him like this but sometimes I forget how ill Tim looks. She goes back to smiling because she doesn’t want to announce it. She’s polite and I like that.
“Nice to meet you Tim,” she extends her hand toward him. “I’m Daze.”
He shakes it.
I offer my hand to her. “Yeah and I’m Greyson.”
Her hand is warm.
“Hi Greyson.”
As I drive in the open desert Tim takes a nap in the back, his third nap today. I ask Daze if she can feel his forehead for me. She checks his temperature. “He feels a little warm.”
“Not to warm though, right?”
“No, not really.”
“Well then he’s fine.”
She fixes her hair and asks me. “How sick is he?”
“He’s dying.” I tell her. “His heart is giving out.”
She freezes and looks out the window, biting her bottom lip. “I’m sorry that was none of my business-“
I grip the steering wheel tighter. “No,no. Don’t worry about it.”
Awkward silence.
Daze breaks the tension by asking another question. “Do you, uh, happen to know where we are exactly? Last time I checked I was in Kansas.”
We drive up to a completely deserted hick town. I’m surprised I haven’t seen any tumblweed blow past us.
There’s something different about this place though. It has a Stephen King sort of vibe to it. The feeling of trouble fills my stomach as I say, “Daze, I have a feeling you’re not in Kansas anymore.”
