Sara opened the door of the rusted-out pickup and began to search frantically. She was searching for that note, that note that Wally gave her that one night. That one night Wally's pickup broke down on the side of a back highway for four hours; the first time Wally kissed her, after about thirteen minutes of barely any conversation. Putting her hand under the seat, she felt around for anything that felt like it. There it is. She pulled the paper out and looked, it wasn't the note he gave her, not at all. She thrust the condom wrapper back under the seat and climbed into the driver's seat, scanning the truck. The inside was in just as bad of shape as the outside. Where the outside was rusted, the inside was adorned in stains; some Sara didn't even want to think about how they got there. Or what they were from. The truck reaked of alchohol and shame, but she ignored it- she needed to find that note.
"Where the hell is it?" Asked Sara aloud, glancing down at a bag almost under the passenger seat. His gym bag. Sticking out from the top she could see his workout atire; a sweaty t-shirt with the sleeves torn off instead of cut, and some plain black shorts. It wouldn't be in there. Moving over to the passanger seat, Sara almost tipped over a coffecup in her hurry, barely noticing. Reaching under the seat, she pulled out a slew of wrappers and bottles, beer cans and an old baseball cap, printed on the back were the words, Pheonix Coyotes. His favorite hockey team. She leaned over further, reaching deeper and felt a box- pulling it out she revealed the source of the first condom wrapper, along with some of it's long lost brothers and sisters. Men. The glove compartment. She opened it up and saw nothing she needed, just a script he had written. Pulling it out and glanced at the cover, it was dated, May 21st, 2009. His birthday. Why would he be writting on his birthday? He never takes the time to enjoy his day. She opened to the middle of the script and started to read.
Amy: "You know we can't tell anyone about this, I could lose my job... Although we could consider it one of our teacher to student privlages..." Touching the pencil behind her ear, trying not to star at Jerry's transbulging-"
Sara stopped reading, a look of disgust flashed across her face and perhaps a bit of excitment. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the sight of something else in the glove compartment. A flask. It was encased in leather, embroided on the side with the words 'For the good times, and bad. Old friend.' I wish he'd stop drinking so much- especially in the truck. She scanned the dashboard, only two things on it. A speeding ticket and his hat. She hated that hat, but he loved it. The only reason he bought it was that he said it made him look like an old school detective from the 40's. She had to admit, when he wasn't shaved- which was often and when he put that hat on and lit his ciggarette, he did look like he was from the 40's. A real badass.
She picked up the coffeecup and smelt it; coffee, black and it was definately spiked. The cup was over half full. Maybe he passed out halfway through it. She almost didn't notice a small piece of white parchment fall out from under the cup. The note! Sara opened the tiny piece of paper and read it aloud.
"Dear Sara, if you are reading this, it means that I have finally gotten the balls to run away for a while. I'll be back before you know it. I'm sorry, I love you always." By the end of the note, tears were filling her eyes. "You finally did eh? You finally ran away you coward..." She was crying harder now- her eyes were red and her head hurt. She had an itch between her shoulderblades that she knew she could never scratch.
"What the hell are you crying for now? You're always so bloody sensitive." A familiar voice spoke up behind her. It was casual and had a sarcastic tone. It always had a sarcastic tone.
Sara spun round, whiping her eyes. There he was, tall and mostly shoulders with a three day beard. "Wally!"
No comments:
Post a Comment