The note under the pillow stated simply this:
Dear whoever, If you’re reading this, then it’s probably Tuesday
morning at about noon. By then, I will have been on the road for two days.
I figured no one would care about me enough to check on me until Tuesday.
Well, have fun without me, it’s what you do best.
Far away by now,
John
The piece of paper fluttered to the floor as Julia’s knees buckled. She rested her head on the mattress, next to the bundle of pillows and sports equipment. Covered with a sheet, it looked like John. But John wasn’t there. He was on the road, lost, lonely…or worse.
Julia started to cry uncontrollably. Why had her little Johnny run off? She was a good mother. She bought him clothes…at the beginning of each school year. She fed him…when she wasn’t at George’s. She drove him to school…if she was awake. She talked to him…if she could pull herself away from the television set.
It hit her like Dorothy’s house: she was an awful mother. She was a selfish, greedy woman who got drunk every night and spent the rest of the time with her boyfriend.
But why would Johnny run away? He knew she needed him. He was her walking stick, coming along with her every step of the way. He was always there. So where was he?
Tired, confused, angry, and afraid, she relaxed and let herself fall asleep.
A car ran through a mud puddle mercilessly, splashing John for the umpteenth
time. His school jacket was covered with dried mud and grime, and his hat
wasn’t much better, either.
It was his third day on the road, and he definitely needed a bath. He
had last eaten in a McDonald’s about fifteen miles back. John had stolen
about $300 from his mom’s safe. He wondered if she had noticed yet.
He had last stopped about three miles back to relieve himself. He figured
he was a good hundred miles from home, if not further. He resolved to stop
at the next rest area to check his distance.
Another car sped past and splashed John, but he kept walking. His backpack’s
weight was just enough to be noticeable, but not a burden. He jostled it
to settle it back on his shoulders and pushed on.
The afternoon sun beat down on John’s back, drying the grime that was
recently added to his attire. He found himself wishing he had brought sunscreen.
After about fifteen more minutes of nonstop walking, he came to a road
sign.
Rest Area - 1 Mile
Far in the distance, he saw a small brown building. And after another
half-hour of walking, he was right in front of it. The rusty brown shingles
were rotted and the sidewalk was chipped, but there was a map. Exhausted,
he staggered up to the map.
He was one hundred and fifty miles from home, and about five miles from
the state border. By his calculations, it would be another day or so before
his mother got up the strength to come looking for him.
John collapsed and fell asleep.
Julia awoke with a start. Where am I? What time is it? She recognized
the feeling of a definite hangover. What made me drink more that usual?
Confused and sluggish, she stumbled into the kitchen.
The coffee maker was shut off, with a cold pitcher of coffee underneath.
Sighing, she shoved the pitcher into the microwave for forty seconds. Grunting,
she poured the nuked coffee into her black mug. She took a careful sip.
It was okay. Now, what was it that bothered me so much? she thought.
Did George break up with me?
No, that wasn’t it. Had the house been robbed?
No. Everything was there. Did something happen to John?
That seemed right. He probably got detention.
Content, she fell back asleep, her coffee spilling on the floor.
“Hey, lookie at him! Maybe he’s dead! Can I touch him? Huh, huh, can
I, huh?”
John opened his eyes. It was blindingly bright out. Squinting, he got
up and looked around.
It was night, and a light was shining directly at him. Peering past
the glare, he realized that the light was coming from a flashlight. A small
boy was holding the flashlight. Probably the same boy who thought he was
dead.
“Mommy, he moved!”
The boy ran behind a tall figure, and the light disappeared. It didn’t
take very long for John’s eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, he
saw a tall, slim woman in her mid-thirties. He smiled weakly. She looked
a lot like his mother. Only this woman wasn’t drunk.
The woman gave John a look of fear and compassion. “I’m sorry that Billy
here woke you up, sir. If you would pay him no mind an…oh my. You’re only
a child!” The look on her face changed to motherly worry. A look John hadn’t
seen it years. He smiled again.
“It’s okay, ma’am. I had to start on my way again, anyway.” His voice
came out dry and cracked, like the muck on his flannel shirt. Picking up
his backpack and brushing himself off, he stood up.
The mother didn’t leave. “If you need a ride somewhere, I can take you
as far as Fixville.”
John froze. Fixville. His house. His mother. His friends. No more life
on the road, no scrounging for money. Back to good, old home. To drunk
mother. Getting over his shock, he shook his head.
“Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not going back there. Thank you, though.” Tipping
his dirty baseball cap, he started off towards the state border.
The rumble and jolt of a speed bump jostled Julia awake. Where was she
again? Oh yes, she remembered. John had run off, and George insisted on
finding him, with her in the back seat.
She gazed into the driver’s seat curiously. There sat George, hunched
over the wheel, his eyes darting back and forth in search of Julia’s rogue
son. How long have we been out here? she thought.
Julia glanced at the dash. The glass gleamed under the lamplights. She
could just see the green numbers shine 1:32 AM. They had been on the road
for almost five hours. She had spent most of it asleep. George cared about
her kid more that she did.
Annoyed, awake, and aware, she took a swig from her bottle and fell
back asleep.
One hour after he had turned down the ride back home, the state borderline
was in sight. He could just barely make out the sign. Knowing that freedom
and his new life were just ahead, past that big blue highway sign.
He struggled on for the next five minutes, fatigue growing although
he had just slept. Finally, he reached the sign:
Welcome to Ohio
John tried to smile, but he was too exhausted. Wearily, he sat down
in front of the sign, reading the white words over and over again. One
more step, and he’d be out of Pennsylvania. Just one more step…
The squeal of car tires broke into John’s revelry. Just five feet behind
him, a car screeched to a halt.
Barely together enough to turn his head, he was still strong enough
to snap to alert when he saw the car. Leaping out of the driver’s seat
was none other than George. Bracing himself for confrontation, he stood
up to face George.
The middle-aged man rushed up to John. “Oh Johnny, thank goodness I’ve
found you. Your mother will be so relieved!” His gray-brown bushy mustache
twitched with his words hurriedly.
Suddenly, something inside John made a tiny clicking sound. He said
something he never would have said before. “No,” John stated. He wasn’t
going to bend to his mother or George anymore. Three days on the road had
changed him. John found that he’d rather start his life over from scratch
that spend the next two years at his so-called home.
George’s bushy mustache twitched curiously. “What do you mean, no? You’re
coming home with me and your mother right now, young man.” George’s arm
shot out and his hand got a firm grip on John’s wrist. “Now.”
John yanked his arm from George’s stern grip. “I don’t think so. You
can’t make me go anywhere, not anymore. You have no legal claim to me whatsoever.
So just back off before I start screaming for the cops!” John pulled himself
backward, away from the middle-aged man.
“I may not have any legal claim, but your mother does!” George had raised
his voice, trying to put an ounce of believable authority into it. He failed.
Not ever the weak threat of his mother could make John falter. “Sure,
George, sure. Just wake her up from her stupor and notify me if she ever
sobers up. Mom doesn’t care about me. She never wanted me. And now, she
won’t have me!”
“Julia…Juli-ugh!” George pulled his head from inside the car. The stench
of alcohol was stronger than usual. Re-entering the car, he gingerly picked
up Julia’s bottle. It was empty, every last drop having slipped past Julia’s
lips.
Then, with a shocking realization, George finally understood: John had
the right idea all along. The only way for him - for any of them - was
to got their separate ways. And John was on his way to starting over, leaving
George to discover his own path.
The look on John’s face was that of a stone. John knew this was is -
just a couple more miles and he’d reach the start of his new life. A room
to stay in, a job to work at. Maybe, if he earned the money, he’d go back
to school. Until then, he had a new life to lead.
Without further hesitation, John turned towards Ohio, throwing one last
comment over his shoulder. “If Mom ever sobers up, tell her I love her.”
George sat in the driver’s seat and started up the car. John wasn’t
the only one who had to start over.
CandyCaneCar
The Plexiglas shimmered in the bright afternoon light. Peering through
the glare, John managed to see the map.
And why shouldn’t he? He’s the one who had proposed twice. Drunk both
times, she had turned him down. She didn’t need another burden on her thirty-nine
year-old shoulders. Julia already had to waste her time on John, especially
now. She wondered why she had cried earlier. Probably just sober.
George was desperate. “We’ll just see about that!” he cried as he ran
towards the car. Throwing open the back seat door, he stuck his head inside.
George turned and looked at John. The sixteen year-old was ready to
finish his journey. Somber- faced from his realization, he quietly nodded
to the growing youth.
March 1998
