by G H Edwards
Ben emerged from the classroom with a cloth bag slung over his shoulder. “Where would you ladies like to go?” he asked.
“Someplace quiet were we can talk would be good. How about Rudy’s?” Rebecca said with a smirk.
Ben smiled. “Of course you would pick that place. Sounds great.”
On the short walk off the campus and around the corner, Rebecca and Ben talked about what they’d been doing since they’d last seen each other. The casual flirting made Claire miss Michael. She was a few paces behind, taking in the new city. She couldn’t believe she was walking through Miami and couldn’t imagine what her friends in Houston would think.
The foot traffic of the city picked up as they left the campus, and Claire had to walk close to her new friends. After a short trip, they arrived at a small Mexican restaurant/bar tucked into the bottom corner of a very tall building. All the front walls were folded open, and there were tables and chairs inside and outside on the sidewalk. They chose a table inside, near the back.
“What can I get you ladies to drink?” Ben asked, looking at Claire.
“Oh boy, here we go,” Rebecca said with a laugh.
“What!” Ben said with a smile.
Claire looked at them in confusion, they obviously had a lot of inside jokes.
“Ok,” Ben said, “I have this way of predicting how a meal will go. It’s really easy, do you want to try it?” he asked looking at Claire.
“Umm I guess”
“Ok, it’s very easy. Tell me what you would like to drink”
“Umm I guess Grapefruit juice” Claire said half asking.
“Grapefruit juice?”
“Ha! The great Professor Ben can’t guess this one!”
“Well ok, you got me.”
“I don’t know what is going on” Claire said confused.
“Ok I’ll tell you. If you want to know what is really on someone’s mind, if you want to know what the meal is really about then you ask someone what they want to drink. The drink sets the vibe. Like if you wanted a beer or tequila or something then you want to have fun, relax, maybe this won’t be very serious. Wine, then more serious. Water then it’s a heart attack.”
“What about Grapefruit juice?” Claire asked.
“Well then this is going to be interesting!” Ben laughed.
“Ok then, I don’t know. I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Claire said.
Great answer!” he said standing up.
“I’ll go with you Ben. You okay here?” Rebecca asked Claire.
“I’m fine,” Claire responded looking at one of the many TVs that lined the walls. “Hey, actually can you turn up the volume on that TV?” she asked pointing at a nearby TV showing the local news.
“Yeah I’ll get the barman to do it,” Rebecca said, bouncing away with Ben.
As Claire looked around the restaurant, she felt a strange sense of wonder. This place didn’t seem so different from the places she had seen in Houston, but somehow it felt different. The air felt different; the people were different; and she liked it. She had an urge to talk to every person she saw and try all the food on the menu. It was like the feeling she got when she and Michael explored different wards in Houston, but now it felt more open and free.
The barman came over, and the volume on the TV increased. Claire said thank you a little too eagerly.
When Rebecca and Ben returned from the bar with three beers, they saw Claire staring wide-eyed at the TV.
“Claire, what’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.
“They’re saying horrible riots are happening in Houston,” Claire said, looking at the screen, which showed a car engulfed in flames on a street corner.
“I’m sorry to hear that. But isn’t that pretty common there?”
“No,” Claire said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a riot in Houston.”
Ben wore a surprised look. “Really? Well, maybe it started since you left there. I mean, how long have you been here?”
“No! The announcer said the riots were about housing and have been going on for months. That’s completely untrue! He said hundreds have been killed and buried in mass graves.”
“So all this is fake? How is that possible?” Ben asked. Silence consumed the small table.
“The problem is,” Claire said looking at her new friends, “this sounds exactly like the news I’ve heard about Miami my whole life.”
CHAPTER 36
Claire slowed to a creep as she approached the old truck that had gotten her to Miami. It had been nearly a month since she had left Ol’ Blue and Michael behind. Claire had been dreading this moment the entire time she’d been in Miami. She had contemplated finding a different route out of the city but decided she needed to see the truck again; she needed to see her husband’s coffin one last time. She told herself that someday she’d return and give Michael a proper burial, but in her heart she doubted she would ever return here.
In the bright sun of the early morning she pulled beside the truck and noticed how short her new vehicle was. She was glad her car was shorter, she decided she didn’t want to see her husband’s body. She didn’t want her last memory of her husband to be a rotting dead body. She approached the truck, and tears soon followed.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I pushed you into this trip. We could have made it together if I didn’t push so much,” she said through her open window. Her guilt was becoming overwhelming; she knew she needed to focus. “I won’t let this trip be for nothing, I won’t let your death be for nothing,” Claire said through her sobs. “I’m sorry I’m leaving you here. But I need to be brave, and I need to keep going, like you said. I love you and I’ll never forget you. Please give me the strength I need to get back to Houston and the strength to do what I know I have to do.” Through tears she pulled away from the old truck and watched it fade away in the rearview mirror. Claire began to feel guilty at the sense of relief she felt leaving the truck behind.
The ride in her new car was much smoother and quieter than the truck had been. When she was first given the car, she thought there was a problem with it because she couldn’t hear the engine. Ben, who had pulled some strings and gotten her the vehicle, laughed and assured her it was how cars were supposed to sound.
He had called in favors from many people throughout Miami. Over the course of a month, he had arranged a plethora of items for Claire’s trip back to Houston, the most important being the car she was driving. It was a taxi and was a shiny silver color and in good condition. It looked very similar to many taxis she’d seen buzzing around Miami. Claire was blown away that Ben had been able to secure her such a nice vehicle. When she asked him how he had gotten it, he said it was better that she didn’t know. She began to wonder if the taxi was stolen because it still had a company’s logo on the side—“Silver Shoe Taxi”—and their phone number. He’d even gotten extra lights installed in the front for driving at night. Claire was astonished.
He, Rebecca, and Claire had spent nearly every night talking and debating about not just Houston but Miami and the Central. Ben had brought multiple friends and fellow professors to meet the young woman from a different city. Claire got the feeling that many of the guests thought she was crazy or lying. It seemed to be her against the world, and though she didn’t know why, she often found herself defending her city.
Claire’s views and opinions, however, evolved as the nights went on. Revelations were made and plans were formed. She’d never really thought or cared much about how her city or any city was run, but now she drank in the information. She couldn’t remember what she used to be interested in before this trip. Looking back on her time spent in Miami, she felt a deep warmth and love for the many people who had helped her. The idea that she used to not only fear but also borderline hate residences of Miami incensed her now. But she was just doing as she was taught.
Claire had been driving all day with little problems. She listened to CDs of music by bands and performers she’d never heard of and ate sna
cks she’d never had before. She enjoyed all the new experiences and felt like a new person. Hope bubbled up in her, and she was excited to take on this new adventure. Things were going so well that she felt confident this trip back to Houston would be easier than it was to leave it.
Claire was recognizing things she had seen on the trip to Miami and was having no problems navigating with the new, much better map Ben had given her. She zoomed by the underpass where she had spent her last night with Michael.
Soon, however, long empty stretches of road and the faded yellow stripes soothed her into a hypnotic trance, and she didn’t notice a large buckle. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the car launched from the ramp and Claire let out a high-pitched squeak. When she returned to earth, she lost control and the little taxi began to spin. She screamed and gripped the wheel tightly, but the force threw her arms around. She came to a stop in the median with all four tires wedged in the grass and mud.
Her heart was pounding, and she was shaking. After several minutes of hard breaths and staring out the windshield, she attempted to return to the road but found the car wouldn’t move. Her tires spun, but the taxi wouldn’t budge. She shifted into reverse and gunned the motor, but the car seemed to sink even more. She wondered if her tires may have blown out when she landed or spun down the road. She had a spare tire, but only one; if she needed any more than that, she was in trouble. Despite initially feeling she was prepared for the trip, she now questioned if she really was. The positive feelings she had felt had vanished along with her traction. She cursed herself for not driving better; she cursed herself for being so naïve; and she cursed herself for dragging her husband on this trip and letting him die while she sat right next to him. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she hit the steering wheel. She laid her head on the abused wheel and began to think. One of the many people Ben had introduced her to was a mechanic who worked on the city busses. He had walked her through a few situations she might find herself in with the car, and one of them had been being stuck in mud. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what he had said. It was all a jumble; there had been such a whirlwind of information to analyze and learn in a short time.
Frustrated, Claire opened the door and stepped out into the hot evening air. The sun was setting, and bugs were beginning to swarm. “There’s never anyone here to eat. How are you still alive?” she called out to the bugs as she smacked her arms and legs. She hustled to inspect the tires. Luckily they seemed to be in good repair; unluckily her front tires were buried in mud. She made another lap around the car and saw that her back tires didn’t look to be stuck. She wondered if she could somehow use those instead of the front ones. She got back in the car but left her door open. She put it in drive and hit the gas. She noticed only her front tires were spinning and her back tires remained still. She shifted into all the gears and pressed every button she could find, but the back tires still didn’t budge. There’s nothing I can do about that, I guess. So let’s break this down, she thought. The car isn’t moving. Why? Because it’s stuck in the mud. Why won’t the car get out of the mud? Because the tires can’t get any grip. So I need some way to get rid of the mud and replace it with something that isn’t so slippery.
Claire got out of the car again and walked to the front. She felt the ground squish underneath her feet. The sun was just above the treeline and was setting fast, and the bugs seemed to have doubled in numbers and size. She jogged over to the side of the highway, looking for something she could use. She scooped up two handfuls of gravel and brought them back to the car. She then threw the handfuls in front of the tires and used a stick to try to shove the pebbles onto the tires while not getting dirty. She was satisfied when all the gravel was gone and she only had a slight bit of mud on her new boots. She jumped into the car, moved the stick to “drive,” and hit the gas. She was shocked when the car jumped slightly forward then slid back to its original resting place. “Damn it!” Feeling more motivated, she left the car and canvassed the road to find all the loose rocks she could gather. When she had a good-size pile, she reached deep inside the messy track and lodged the rocks as tightly as she could against the tires. This time she had no regard for the amount of dirt she gathered on her clothes and boots. She felt confident and ready to move. She hurried back to the driver’s seat, switched the gears, and pressed the gas. The taxi lumbered out of its hole and drove smoothly to the highway. Claire stopped the car and leapt out, screaming for joy. “What else you got! You can’t stop me! Bring it on!” she yelled at the setting sun. Her mud-covered victory dance was cut short when she realized the cab was rolling away from her because she again forgot to put it in park.
She spent another hour driving before she decided to stop for the night. The extra lights Ben had installed on the front of the car worked well, but she realized she wouldn’t be able to recognize her turns without more light. She, Rebecca, and Ben had discussed how her nights should be spent, and they’d agreed that sleeping in a tent outside the car would be the best route. At first Rebecca had suggested Claire sleep in the backseat of the car, but Claire had told her the horror story of her and Michael attempting to sleep in Ol’ Blue and nearly drowning in their sweat and being eaten by bugs. The idea of leaving the car running was discussed, but it was decided it would burn too much gas. Quickly the group agreed the tent would be the best option, especially since the car eventually had filled up with supplies. One of the many items Ben’s friends had donated for what they called “the Odyssey” was a complete set of camping gear.
Claire had an instant popup tent, a nice sleeping bag, and even plastic utensils. They had decided the safest place to sleep would be in the open but near the car. Rebecca and Ben were worried about animals attacking her, but Claire assured them that she would be safe and showed them the large handgun she had brought with her. Ben and Rebecca became very uneasy when they saw the gun. They informed her that in Miami no guns were allowed after many outbreaks of violence years before. They warned Claire that she could go to jail for having it and that she should tell no one she had it. Claire agreed and apologized to them; they chalked it up to a cultural miscommunication but that didn’t stop Claire from always having the gun within reach. She had it with her as she surveyed the land near the road with a large flashlight. After a short search she found a dry, flat patch of grass near the highway. After having practiced the setup inside Rebecca’s apartment several times, Claire erected her temporary home in less than five minutes.
The temperature had calmed to a comfortable level, and the bugs had all but disappeared. Taking in her pleasant surroundings, Claire spent some time sitting on the trunk of her car, looking at the blanket of stars. It seemed in every direction there were trillions of bright stars that were layered on top of even more stars. Shooting stars crisscrossed the sky in front of her. She felt like before this trip she’d been blind to the splendor of the world around her—like having the walls of your apartment covered in beautiful paintings but never looking at them.
After retiring to her tent, she curled up in her sleeping bag and smiled to herself as she quickly fell asleep. She was awoken a few hours later by the sound of rustling leaves. She was terrified but dared not move. The noises grew louder, and Claire lay frozen in fear. When the noises seemed to be right on top of her, she scrambled for her gun. She found it pointed it at the fabric wall where the noises were coming from and pulled the trigger. It was the first time she had fired the gun outside of a range and the noise was deafening. She found the flashlight and switched it on. She looked at the hole in the tent that had appeared but heard nothing but ringing. Shaking, she unzipped the flap that was her door and peeked outside. She expected to see a giant dead animal but nothing was there. She held her gun and flashlight in front of her while she made a lap around her campsite. Seeing nothing, she retreated to her tent, the smell of burned gunpowder filling the small space. With her heart still pounding hard and her ears still ringing, she lay down to try to sleep. She stared at the ceiling f
or a long time until finally exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.
Claire woke up at dawn. Every morning since she had arrived in Miami she had awoken but kept her eyes shut for a few moments. She dreaded opening them and realizing this wasn’t just a bad dream. Every morning she felt like Michael had died all over again and she was alone. But this morning she opened her eyes right away. She knew where she was and that her husband really was dead, but now she felt like she had a plan and was moving forward. She wasn’t exactly feeling happy, but for the first time in a long time, she felt content.
She bagged up her tent and supplies and was soon moving away from the rising sun and toward Houston. Claire had become a skilled driver and was able to predict when the road was about to give her problems. In the smaller, sleeker car she felt like a bullet shooting toward Houston. Having learned her lesson from hitting the buckle in the road and getting stuck, she was careful to drive on the same lanes she had driven on going to Miami, though she often worried she would miss her turns. She made much better time than she had in the truck and hoped she could continue to drive a car when she got home.
As the trees became taller and thinner, she thought she knew where she was. Soon the land to her left had disappeared and was replaced by beautiful blue water and vanilla sands. She slowed to studied the area and eventually found the marker she had left. She pulled up and stopped the car beside the empty gas cans.
“Judy!” she yelled, and was surprised how excited she was to see her young friend running through the field toward her.
CHAPTER 37
Tim took a much nicer approach to Claire on the second visit, and Claire was grateful. He was almost smiling when Jenny had brought Claire into the house with Judy jumping up and down, attached to her hand. Hugs were exchanged and stories began. Quickly Michael’s death was the topic, and Claire nearly broke down. Tim appeared genuinely saddened, and Jenny held Claire in her arms for a long time. Claire felt as though her first trip was years ago, but somehow she felt at home in the dusty old house. As they talked, Jenny was inching toward the kitchen to start making dinner when Claire told her to stop. She insisted that before dinner Tim help her with something in the car, and Tim agreed, following Claire out the door and through the field. When the two returned a minute later, they were carrying two large boxes, which they set on the table.