by Joel Cobbs
The Hyundai Plant was nice, one of the nicest I've ever seen, which isn't saying much since the only auto plant I've ever seen is currently closed, part of a long fight between a union and a collapsing financial stability.
Hyundai had its own exit, obviously built just for it since the title was “Hyundai Drive” or something like that. I must say they put a lot of money into it. Alabama was a state that thrived off of its sales tax. When no one spent money, the state suffered greatly. Unfortunately, that was a majority of the time. No matter what congress tried to do, they just could not make ends meet. A few years ago there was a record deficit, which led to the end of one governor's term and introduced another. Bob Riley, the new governor, managed to turn a record deficit into a record surplus. I'm not really sure how he did it, but he did. Departments were given increased budgets, which created a sense of security.
Two years later, Alabama was back down. There wasn't a record deficit anymore, but it was much less than its former greatness. Budgets were now being cut, people laid off, debt accumulating, and the list goes on and on.
Anyways, the Hyundai plant was pumping in a decent revenue and giving a lot of people jobs.
We got off a little way passed that, took a much needed break, and turned on the road to Andalusia.
In that part of Alabama, there is nothing. On both sides of you, you can see for miles and miles. This part of Alabama was flat and boring. There were a lot of farmers in the area, many of whom were trying to recover from the previous year.
In 2007 we saw one of the worst droughts in Alabama history.
The state was declared a Disaster area and help was sent. Farmers were unable to grow crops, which cut into their income, which cut into their spending, which in turn cut into the surplus. With food coming from other states, prices went up, which caused less spending by other people, which caused another dip in the surplus.
“Good grief, Dad, there's nothing out here.”
“I'm sure there is, we just can't see it.” He paused. “Nope, there's nothing out here.”
“You sure we're still in Alabama?”
“Believe it or not. You know all those stories about people marrying their cousins and such.” I nodded. Unfortunately I was the butt of many of the jokes my northern friends gave. “This is where that came from.” Everyone had heard those stories, whether you were from Alabama or not. Most of it was nonsense.
In a town as small as Rosetta Falls, you ended up marrying someone who was related to you even if you'd never met the person before. Somewhere back in there, someone married someone they were distantly related to who was a descendant of someone who had also married someone they were distantly related to.
We drove for hours, talking about whatever came to mind. When we finally found a town, it was too much to believe. The “town” was so small we almost drove through it before we realized where we were. This wasn't Andalusia, but it was the closest place to it. We pressed on, finally arriving at our destination.
Andalusia was as close to nothing as a place could be. There was a “mall”, two or three fast food joints, and three motels. One seemed nice, but it was rather expensive. One was a dump, pure and simple. Ours was sort of in between. If I had the money, I wouldn't be staying there that's for sure, but at the same time I preferred it over the dump down the street. Our motel was right next to a Mexican restaurant, the only one I'd seen for several long, long miles. It looked like it was popular, but it wasn't very high on our list to visit. We were gonna get to our hotel and try to get situated.
Dad went inside and took care of everything. We got a smokeless room and started unpacking. The first thing I did was turn on the TV to see if there was any kind of cable. Surprisingly, there was. I surfed through until I found The Weather Channel and left it as background noise.
“So what are we gonna do first?” I asked. I was tired from the whole trip, my eyes felt like they were falling out of my head. “Well, I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.”
“I'm sure I could eat a few combos myself.” We did a little unpacking, then toured the town. We saw the Burger King and KFC and the Mexican restaurant. We kept driving up.
I'd divided the town into two directions, up and down. There were only two roads that ran through the town. One was the one we'd used to get here. It seemed to connect Andalusia to the rest of the world. The other went smack through the center of the town. If there was anything in that town, it was on that road. We didn't go very far up or down it, seeing as it seemed to be the only town in the middle of nowhere. I based my directions on where the two roads intersected. Our motel was “down” from Andalusia. It was there that we found what we believed to be the pride and joy of Andalusia: Wal-Mart.
The Wal-Mart was nowhere near a super center like most of the others I'd seen. It was small, but thankfully had a grocery section and a toiletries section. We'd decided to brave the other food places later, so we went around looking for food to gather to save money. It didn't take as long as we thought. We settled on some microwavable food. We also got some sandwich stuff and Dr. Peppers and Diet Coke with Lime.
We got back to the hotel and started unloading everything. I went into the bathroom with my things and took a shower. The shower was violent in every sense of the word. The water practically attacked you as you tried to use it. What're you doing?! Get out of here! Don't make me hurt you! the shower yelled at me as I tried to get clean. I love showers but this was too much. If it'd been a little nicer, I'm sure I would have stayed in there for the whole trip. I got done as quickly as I could and opened the door.
“Your turn,” I said. “Take a chair and a whip.” He laughed. I laid down on the bed and channel surfed. I heard the water turn on and
“What the–”
A smiled formed across my face.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We were on the schedule to stay for nine days in Andalusia. Dad had a lot of teachers he had to train. There would be four days of training, a one day break as the teachers went home, then four more days of training with new teachers. It didn't make much sense to me, but I suppose it saved on all the travel expenses having the trainers stay rather than leave and come back and leave and come back, especially since this place was a desert.
I spent most of the days in our hotel room, making friends with the cleaning lady, surfing the web and watching TCM. I found a strange sensation from watching all the black and white films. My favorite so far on the trip was Tortilla Flat with Spencer Tracy. It was really good. At the end of the film, there was a little caption that rolled just after the credits finished. It said: “Support Our Troops. Buy War Bonds.” In this day and age, you wouldn't be caught dead with such a caption. (Not if you wanted to have a career anyway.)
Cellphone signal had disappeared somewhere along the way. The Internet was the only means of communication we had with civilization. There were times during the day where I had lots of people online to talk to and some days where I had no one.
On day three, my phone buzzed for the first time since we'd left I-65. I picked it up and found I had a voicemail. I'd expected a few since we were dead in the water and I was sure my friends would be calling. With one bar of signal coming and going, I tried to hear my message. After several attempts, I finally got it.
“You have one new voice message and one saved message,” the prerecorded voice said, “New message.”
Hey Rob, this is Lisa. Just wanted to check and see how the trip is going. Didn't know if you had signal or not but I thought I'd try. I'll be online later tonight if you wanna say “hi”. Talk to you later.
I filed that away and deleted the message. I was curious about the saved message. I couldn't remember what it'd been. “Saved Message,” it said. It was the scariest moment of my life.
Hey, Rob, it's me. Listen, I don't know what's going on with you, but I want you to know I'm proud of you. Whatever it is you're dealing with, I'm sorry if we are making it harder for you. You're facing a hard decision in life a
nd we just want you to make the best choice you can. We want you to learn from our mistakes. Anyways, I'm on my way home to see you. There's no excuse for what you said at the park today, but we need to talk, okay? I still love you, Rob. I still love you.
The message ended and I sat there, in shock, with tears in my eyes. I was shaking all over, a cold sweat developing. I didn't know what to do. This was crazy. She was dead, I know she was. It turned out she was on her way home to see me. Why did she try to do that? She should've just stayed in town and beat me when she was done at work. “Proud of you.” She had the guts to say “proud of you” even though she was forcing everything she wanted onto me. I suddenly was hurting. The pain of hearing her voice again, months after she'd died, was killing me. How did I just now get the message? This took place months ago so why didn't I get it then? It felt like some strange sort of accident, one that should never have happened. I didn't know what to do. I was sweating.
I threw my phone across the room. It smacked against the wall and fell to the floor, the battery going in one direction and the phone in the other. I pulled out my razor and went in the bathroom. I sat in the bathtub and just started clawing at my wrists. The razor still hadn't been opened. I wanted help. I wanted comfort. Where was it? Where had it all gone? I was shaking, hurt, cold, angry, sad, distraught. I kicked and kicked. I wanted it to all go away. I was yelling, crying out into the unknown. How could you do this to me? What have I done to deserve this? I felt the cuts on my wrists open up. Pain began to consume me, inside and out. I begged the pain to take it all away. I was screaming.
WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?! I yelled.
WHAT DID I DO FOR THIS?! HOW COULD YOU DO
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rob was riding his new bike around the camp ground. Once a year, for as long as he could remember, he and his family went to Pensacola Beach, Florida and spent the weekend there. It was always during Spring Break, when everyone else was in Panama City or some other major destination.
Rob loved it there. Last year they'd been rained out and were forced to stay in a hotel. The hotel was nice, just off the beach, but Rob enjoyed the camping just as much. They had a certain spot they enjoyed setting up in. It had a tree with low branches for Rob to climb up and down. It wasn't a place they kept on reservation or anything, just a spot they enjoyed and were fortunate enough to get.
His mother could never figure out why no one else ever set up in that spot. They'd never seen any animals walk up to the tent, when it rained it wasn't nearly as bad as in other spots, and it was one of the closets to the beach. She shrugged it off every year when she saw the spot once again.
This year, Rob brought his new bicycle. It was the envy of all his friends at home. It was big and went fast. They'd all gotten bikes for Christmas, but his was different. They'd had races at his house, since he was the only one that lived on a road so rarely used. Rob had won most of the races, making him the champion.
Rob rode around the circle several times. There were three circles (A, B, C) and all were connected by a small rectangle of pavement that led to the entrance. The Thompsons always camped in circle A and asked Rob not to ride elsewhere. Rob had been through the other circles, but only a few times and never for very long. He looked behind him to see if his parents were watching. He rode off to circle B.
He felt a new found freedom. He'd broken rules that he knew he shouldn't have, and felt like a new man when he did so, stronger than any other nine year old in the world. After making the circle once, he did it for a second time. He quickly returned to circle A when he finished. He waved at his parents, who were reading, talking, and other things that adults do.
To keep people from speeding through the campgrounds, there were several speed “ditches”, as Rob liked to call them, which could cause serious damage to vehicles if taken too fast. They didn't dip too far, but enough to make people slow down. When Rob waved at his parents, he hit the small dip and went flying to his left. He screamed as circle A tore away some of his skin. He left like he was burning.
“Mommy!” he screamed. “Help me!” both his parents came running. They were trying to get him out of the street because he was hurt but they also didn't want anyone to do the same and end up hitting him. Rob was crying harder and harder. His mother was holding him. “Don't let go! It hurts, it hurts.”
“Sh. Sh.” she said. “It's okay, I'm not gonna let you go.” They carried him carefully back to the tent.
“It hurts!” he screamed.
“I know, baby, I know. We're gonna take care of it.”
“It's okay, Rob,” his Dad said, “Don't worry, we'll make it better.”
“Don’t let go, Mommy. Don’t let go.”
PART II
Chapter One
I felt like I was on fire. I had no idea what had happened. I could feel something, just had no idea what it was. There were voices. Voices dark and almost bland. I knew them just couldn't make out who they were. What was going on? Why couldn't I see? Was I dead? No. Death feels differently than this, right?
I was trying to see, but I was too...too diluted. It was the only thing I could think to say that really showed how I felt. My mind was nothing but a jumble, as if someone had taken everything I knew, thrown it in a box and shook it up real hard. Then, slowly let the pieces fall onto the floor. I couldn't concentrate or tell myself what to do. I felt attached, away from who I was. I didn't even know who I was.
Things started coming to, slowly and painfully. Whoever the voices were started coming in more and more clearly. One was Dad, definitely Dad. But who were the others? Was I in some sort of deep sleep and just hadn't realized it yet? No, that's impossible. I'm probably just coming to from a dream.
The light was so bright. It hurt even with my eyes closed. I wanted it to go away, so I was swinging at it trying to get rid of it. I felt something holding me back and my arms started hurting. I cried out in pain. Why couldn't anyone hear me? Why can't you hear me?! I'm screaming for help here, someone answer!
I felt hands restrain me. They hurt my arms worse than before. I wanted it to all go away. Stop, I was screaming. Go away and leave me alone. I felt like I was being pulled away. Slowly and painfully. Starting to slip. Slipping. Slipping...
------
The next I woke up, I was in a daze. I could open my eyes, but couldn't do much else. I looked around the room. It was sort of off white. I've never been good with colors, but it wasn't really white.
Dad was sitting in the chair. His eyes were dark and he had a lot of stubble on his face. He normally shaves his head every night, but it was showing some thickness now. I couldn't really tell what going on. He was reading some kind of book, that much I knew. He could always be caught with a book in his hand. It was just the two of us.
I grunted and groaned a little, which caught his attention. He dropped the book, which felt like it busted my eardrums, and came over to the bed.
“Oh man, Rob. Are you okay? I've been so worried about you. Nurse!” he shouted. Again, my ears hurt. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I was too sore and my throat hurt a lot. I couldn't focus. What happened? Why was he calling a nurse?
An elderly lady came in. I didn't know where I was or what she was doing here. Had something happened on the way down or was I still dreaming? No, this hurt too much to be a dream. I've been through dreams before. For some reason I can never remember experiencing pain while I was dreaming. Maybe I had, maybe I hadn't, but I don't remember it ever happening.
I began to doze off again. I was trying to stay awake but it wasn't happening.
When I awoke some time later, Dad was sitting the same chair, but now was watching me. My ears didn't hurt nearly as much, but I was still in some pain. My focus was much better than it had been. I knew he was there this time, but I still wasn't sure why.
“What's goin' on?” I mumbled, unsure as to whether or not he understood me. It took all my strength to say it. Dad had tears in his eyes. I could tell it was taking some time
to pull himself together to say whatever it was he wanted to say. I didn't know what it was, or if it was good or bad. I just knew he was wanting to say something.
“Why'd you do it, Robert?” I was confused.
“Why'd I do what?” I asked. He looked at me curiously.
“You-” he started. “You don't remember?”
“Remember?” I asked.
“Remember what?” He seemed uncomfortable now. He stared at me for a moment.
“Just a minute,” he said and left the room.
My thoughts were scattered. I couldn't figure out what was going on. I'd figured out I was in a hospital, that much was certain. Other than that I was at a loss. I couldn't concentrate and had a massive headache. Dad came back into the room, a doctor at his side. The man was middle-aged with a white hair and beard. He looked like Santa Claus, but with a smaller beard.
“Robert,” he said in a deep voice. The he had more of a drawl than he did accent. “My name is Dr. Lowery. Do you know where you are?” I shook my head. I didn't have the energy to speak and wasn't sure I really wanted to anyway. “You're at St. James Community Hospital. You're in the ICU. You've been here for almost eighteen hours.” He paused for some reason. “Robert, do you remember what happened and how you came here?” I looked down at my bed. I couldn't remember. I'd been at the hotel watching a movie. Something happened with my phone. I went to the bathroom maybe? I wasn't sure. It all bled together like a dream. Bled. Why was that the word that came to mind?
“Robert, this is very serious, so we need to know. Do you remember what happened and how you came here?”
“No. I d-I don't.” I was stuttering from disorientation. The doctor and my Dad exchanged some sort of look, which made me feel nervous.