![]() And lonely because you’d have nowhere to go but the sidewalk. ![]() Theresa turned back, took another drink and swallowed. “You never see a super tall homeless person. “Real tall.” Theresa said, lifting the can and drinking. Theresa’s eyes drew larger at the yellow lines of the highway flipping underneath the car. He said, “You didn’t happen to say anything else did you? Maybe about us? Maybe about where we’re going?” I tried to say ‘hi,’ just to be nice like I didn’t care, but I don’t even think he saw me.”įrom under his shirt Ricky took up his gold chain and ran his thumb underneath it. There was one of those hanging signs for donuts and he hit his head on it. “This much.” Theresa plucked the bills from her lap and dug deep underneath her legs for the coin. “A monster, huh? How much money we have left?” He was the tallest person I’ve ever seen,” she said. She looked to see if Ricky saw and wiped her lips. Some orange liquid spilled down her chin. He leaned his elbow into the door and pressed a hand hard to his lips, thinking of the future. She handed it to him and Ricky tossed the unopened can between his legs. Ricky batted them away and dried the console with his sleeve. She danced the soda cans together on the console and the condensation imprinted the leather. Ricky hung up, thumped into drive and headed south away from the lights of the Pilot station. She came back with the change from a broken hundred-dollar bill scooped in her shirt. Inside the station, at the counter, Theresa swiveled her hips and paid for two soda pops. He looked blankly into the rearview mirror while he talked. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, reached out the window, and took the phone. Ricky squealed a U-turn and stopped next to a pay phone. ![]() The car stopped long enough for Theresa to get out. Hunt, a Grabell, and a Roadway semitrailer were parked in the long weeds, spray-painted with black graffiti. Wooden apple crates were stacked in the grass. The car idled through the mist, turned left, and pulled underneath the lights of a Pilot station. Signs passed and the grumble of the engine pulled off at Exit 48. He drove and sat quiet for a few moments. Ricky sighed deeply he clucked his tongue between his teeth while silos fell over the countryside. She said, “You’re like the best driver I know.” Theresa lifted his hand away from her legs and set it gently on the wheel next to the other. In the road ahead Theresa noticed a bag, or maybe an animal lying dead, but before she could say anything, Ricky veered easily around the shredded rubber from an eighteen-wheeler. Here, take your hand back so you can drive good. He moved his hand toward the inside of her thigh and the left rear rattled over a bump while Ricky changed lanes from left to right. “What? You don’t like it? I’m a crazy man with you here.” Theresa wiggled and pushed his hand toward her knees. The tires rolled perfect and she could feel the cool skin of Ricky’s hand moving upward on her leg. He clicked off the wipers and took her hand. Raindrops peeled from the windshield and onto the roof. “But can I hold your hand? Until we get out of here.” We’re partners, right?” He reached over and rubbed Theresa’s leg. He moved his hand to the wheel and said, “When people get older, you’re lucky if you can find a partner or two that can hang in there. He had his hand over his mouth and sucked in on the cigarette. Next to her the reflectors on the guardrail flashed. And actually be a strong person in your life.” “Because those kinds of friends have expiration dates, sweetheart. “You should,” he said, and straightened his legs to the seat. You can’t put people in your pocket forever and ever.” They traveled under Hundredth Avenue, its overpass, and a green sign for Dorr Township while Ricky ran his fingers through his curled hair. “Friends like that aren’t going to save you from the world. Ricky noticed the gauges, the oil pressure and tachometer doing what they were supposed to. Ricky put the cigarette to his lips like an instrument and it hung there. Theresa said to the window, “But I don’t know anyone in Chicago, Ricky.” ![]() The tires chirped at sixty-five and the five-liter put distance between them and the on-ramp within seconds. Outside and through the passenger window Theresa noticed the last remnants of neighborhoods, places where an occasional garage light disappeared behind a satellite dish, or a vine- covered fence protected houses from the sight of the highway.
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