But it didn’t last. A slight knock on his door. Then the door opened.
“Hush,” Lester whispered. “If your offer’s still good, we’ll leave in the morning.”
“Definitely,” Alex said.
“We’ll go to Alabama,” Lester said. He was like a black phantom crouched over Alex’s bed. “Then we’ll see your dad in Florida.”
“Sounds good,” Alex said.
Then the phantom was gone.
THERE WAS no way Alex was going to sleep after that. He sat at his computer and, courtesy of his mother’s gift card, downloaded about fifty songs onto his iPod. Then he grabbed his duffel bag and started packing it with clothes and drawing materials. He tossed in a medium-quality sketchpad and the new leather case Bill had given him for his birthday. Inside were three grades of lead, a mechanical pencil, sharpener, charcoals, erasers and a can of fixative spray. He was making a bit of noise, which made him worry about his mother barging in. So he stopped, slid the bag under his bed and remained still until morning light.
There were voices and commotion, and then the garage door opened beneath him. He rose out of bed and went over to the window. His mother and Bill were gone.
A knock on the wall. “Hey, kid.” It was Lester.
Alex plopped his duffel bag onto the bed. “I’m packing.”
Downstairs, Lester was sitting at the dining room table, a bowl of cereal at his left and a map spread out before him. He wore reading glasses that hung out near the end of his nose. But instead of making him look silly, the glasses gave him a bookish appearance. Without looking away, he said, “She comes back, we’ll have some explaining to do.”
“Don’t worry,” Alex said, pumped with excitement. “She never leaves work early.” He pulled out a box of Golden Grahams. “Where’d you get the map?”
“The Caddy—got the whole country in there.” He looked up and took off his glasses. “Find me a yellow highlighter, if you would.”
“No problem,” Alex said. “I’ve got my bag ready.”
“Me too. You carry mine down.” Lester paused for a moment. Then he said, “You need to write a note to your mother. Tell her you went willingly. Tell her you’ll call on a regular basis. And tell her you love her.”
Alex looked away. “I might skip that last part.”
“Nope,” Lester said. “You put it in or we don’t go.”
THEIR FIRST stop was a Key Bank where Lester apparently kept a lot of money. Alex watched as the old man filled out a cash slip in the amount of eleven hundred dollars. Then he instructed the teller to give him nothing but hundred dollar bills. “Easier on my backside,” he said.
Lester slid the bills into his wallet, slipped the wallet into his back pocket and made a slow trek to the Cadillac. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Alex timidly said, “I can’t take money out of my college fund without my mom’s signature. I won’t be able to pay for much.”
“Now you tell me,” Lester said. “You invite me on a trip. Then you expect me to pay for everything. That’s how you operate?”
Alex didn’t know what to say.
Lester smiled. “I’m busting your chops, kid. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with.” It was the same line he’d given Rebecca.
“I could help you with that problem,” Alex said.
“I’m sure you could, and I’m sure you will.”
For Alex, the official start of the trip happened when they passed the Thruway tollgate heading west on I-88. The day was colorless, a world gone graphite, but this had no effect on Alex’s mood. Not only was he thrilled about the possibilities ahead, he was also relieved of his guilt over Lester. How could he be accused of abandoning the old man if he was sitting right next to him?
But if Lester was excited, he didn’t exactly put on a parade about it. He just sat there and drove wordlessly—no radio, nothing. Maybe it was a secret test of endurance. Who could stay silent the longest? Who would crack?
Southbound on I-81, they brushed the eastern side of Binghamton and crossed the state line into Pennsylvania. It was a hundred miles since either of them had spoken.
When Lester finally broke the silence, it came with the chill of reality. He cleared his throat and said, “You sure you know how to drive?”
Alex didn’t say anything. It was too soon to be having this conversation. Way too soon, because they were close enough to turn around and be home before anyone knew better.
“I asked you a question,” Lester said.
Alex finally responded. “I’m trying to figure a way to answer it.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t know how to drive!”
“Actually, I don’t. I sort of…lied.”
“That’s not funny.” Lester made a fist of his right hand. “You may be a better liar than I thought.”
“Sorry,” Alex said, “I thought it was the only way to convince you.”
“Goddamn right!”
“I’ve got a permit. I swear.” Alex pulled out his wallet then proudly held up his brand new license card.
“All right, put that away.” Lester flashed a mean look. “Jesus, now I’ll have to teach you how to drive.”
“I don’t think I’ll need much training.”
“You can’t know until you’re behind the wheel. But it’s pretty simple, especially with this car. Everything’s automatic. Long as you’re not mentally defective or a nervous wreck, you should learn just fine.”
“When do we start?” Alex asked. “I’m ready.”
“Hold your britches, kid. I’m an old man, and I’m tired. I need a place to rest.”
LESTER CHOSE a truck stop south of Hazelton and parked at the edge of the lot. All the windows were down. He lay on the backseat with his hands draped over his crotch, legs pretzeled against the door. To remain like that, in a raspy state of sleep for over an hour, seemed pretty amazing.
Alex was afraid to leave him there, afraid the old man might choke on his own spit, afraid some outlaw redneck might pry open the trunk and take their stuff. But the power of boredom gradually took hold. He got out of the car and made his way up through a tangle of new growth trees. He stopped at a point where he could still see the Cadillac and the L-shaped parking lot. On the other side of the ridge, down below, lay a broad expanse of grass and both directions of busy interstate. Beyond that was a strip mine, making the distant horizon raw and ugly.
A path separated the top of the ridge. Alex followed it about fifty yards to a graffiti-riddled boulder and a pile of bottles and dented beer cans. He turned back to the path’s origin and spotted something unusual. It was a shiny stick propped against a young maple. The stick was speckled with tiny knots, but it was nearly straight. Someone had used it as a walking stick and must have left it accidentally. He checked its feel. It was solid but not too heavy. He decided he’d give it to Lester.
The first thing he noticed when he approached the Cadillac was that the windows were all raised. He looked through the glare. The old man was gone, probably in the bathroom. Alex perched himself on the back bumper and examined the stick. It was definitely a good find.
“Where the hell you been?” It was Lester gasping for air, leaning against a blue Odyssey.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “I just went for a little hike.”
“You had me worried to death.” He took a few awkward steps closer. “Who the hell hikes at a truck stop?”
“Sorry.” Alex walked toward the old man eager to show off the stick.
“Thought you might’ve hitched a ride with some trucker, or got taken by some trucker.”
“Nothing like that,” Alex said. “But I did find this stick.” He raised it with both hands. “I thought you could use it.”
“I don’t need a goddamn stick. I can walk fine.” Lester squared himself in front Alex, stared for few seconds then grabbed the stick. He walked between the Cadillac and a PT Cruiser, and he launched the stick javelin-style into the grass.
Then he grabbed at his chest. He
let out an awful moan and lurched forward against the Cadillac’s hood.
“Kid,” he managed to say. “I need my nitro.”
Alex leaped forward and propped Lester up by his armpits. “What’s that?”
Lester was gasping. “It’s a little brown bottle. In my bag…get it now.”
Alex lowered the old man to the pavement, took the keys out of his hand and darted back to the trunk. He popped it open then rifled through the musty suitcase. There was a black toiletry bag stuffed with medicine bottles.
“Hurry,” Lester said.
“I got it! I got it!” Alex twisted open a tiny glass bottle and tapped five or six white tablets onto his palm. He knelt in front of the old man.
“I just need one,” Lester said. “Put it in my mouth, under my tongue.”
Alex stuck a tablet under Lester’s raised tongue, which looked all purple and nasty. “There,” he said, “I got it in.” He put the rest of the pills back in the bottle and capped it.
Lester closed his eyes and lowered his head. His hands had dropped from his chest down to the center of his belly. “I’ll be okay,” he said. “Just help me into the car. I need some water.”
Alex opened the driver’s door and guided Lester to the seat. Then he ran. He actually ran to the glass entry doors of the truck stop to the wall of chilled beverages.
On his sprint back to the car, he couldn’t help but equate the black Cadillac to a hearse. “God, please be alive,” he said. He was actually praying. He slid into the passenger seat. “Here’s the water. I got three bottles.”
Lester put his hand forward and nodded. His nods were usually deliberate. This one wavered.
Alex put a bottle in the old man’s hand. “Here, drink it up.”
Lester leaned back and drank a small amount. Then he set the bottle into the center console. “I’ll be okay, kid.”
Alex couldn’t stop it. He felt a surge of tears.
“No reason to cry,” Lester said. “I’m an old goat, should’ve never tossed that stick.”
“I shouldn’t have left for so long.”
Lester took another sip and then said, “Well, you’re right about that. Next time, you’re either in the car or in the building. Don’t go off hiking without telling me first.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You know, I was thinking,” Lester said. “Might not be such a bad idea for me to have a walking stick.”
Alex smiled and said, “Don’t move. I’ll get it.”
THEY WERE silent again for the next stretch of interstate, but it was a different silence than before. To ease Lester’s burden, it would have been an ideal time for Alex to drive, but he just sat there feeling useless. His thoughts had shifted from all the possibilities awaiting him down in Florida to Lester and whether he could even make it to the next rest stop. And what if he actually died?
“You’re looking at me funny, kid.”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep glancing over at me, like I’m wearing a vest of explosives.”
“I was just wondering,” Alex said. “Shouldn’t we go to the hospital?”
“Most definitely not,” Lester said. “They’d only torture me and add more pills to my collection.”
“Was it a heart attack?”
“Nah, just a spell of angina. Doesn’t happen that often. Don’t you worry.”
But Alex was beyond worried. He remembered how his mother had said Lester was too medically unstable to drive and shouldn’t take the wheel until he was cleared by a doctor. Now here he was, driving over seventy miles an hour in heavy traffic.
“Listen, kid,” Lester said. “If it makes you feel any better, we’ll go to Florida first. Then we’ll hit Alabama on the return trip. How’s that sound?”
“Why would you want to do that?” Alex said. “You don’t even know anyone down there.”
“You got me curious about your father. Wouldn’t want to delay that meeting.”
“It’s okay with me,” Alex said. Huge understatement. If the old man coded out on the road, he should at least have the decency to do it after the Florida leg of their trip.
Traffic intensified. It was rush hour in Harrisburg. Lester kept the Cadillac in the slow lane and let about a dozen motorists pass by. “All these people in a hurry to get home,” he said. Then he looked over and caught Alex fiddling with his nose. “That’s disgusting.”
“What?” Alex said, lowering his hand.
“You wipe any snot on my interior, and you can walk the rest of the way down to Fort Lauderdale.”
“I wouldn’t want to waste it,” Alex said. “This is home-grown snack food.” He was kidding, wondering how the old man would take it.
“That’s a foul habit. You ought to stop doing it, especially if you plan on meeting a nice girl. She’ll drop you quicker than a hot potato.”
“What if she eats hers too?” He could barely keep a straight face.
“Oh, you’re asking for it now,” Lester said. “Think of all the crap you breathe in through your nose. Then you eat it. It’s like eating from a pool skimmer.”
“Nice visual,” Alex said. “But, for the record, I don’t eat boogers and I pledge not to soil your car with them.”
Lester shook his head. “You had me, kid.”
“Serves you right for staring at me instead of looking at the road.”
Anybody ever call you a smart-ass?”
“You’re the first.”
“Ha,” Lester said, smiling broadly. And somehow that smile made him look healthier.
CHAPTER EIGHT
From a geographic standpoint, the best part of the trip came next. After all those hours cutting through Pennsylvania, the interstate quickly sliced through an appendage of Maryland then crossed the easternmost limb of West Virginia. A moment later, they passed the state line into Virginia. The transition from state to state made it feel like progress on a grand scale.
The skies were darkening, especially off to the east. Next town ahead was Winchester. “Let’s stop here and get a room.” Lester poked a thumb at his chest. “This old sack of bones needs a break.”
They pulled into a Hampton Inn, nestled between a Christian college and a shopping mall. Alex went inside and checked for room availability while Lester remained in the car. The desk clerk had said there were plenty of rooms, which Alex proudly relayed back to Lester.
The old man was looking at his walking stick. “With separate beds?” he asked.
“I didn’t check, but I think so.”
“Kid, I told you to ask for a non-smoking room with separate beds. Now how the hell hard is that?”
“Sorry,” Alex said. “I’ll check again.”
Their room was on the second floor overlooking the parking lot and a corner of college. Alex flipped through channels on the TV while Lester stood at the window with a bottle of water. One by one, he downed his allotment of evening pills. “Right around here,” he said, “is where the bulk of the Civil War was fought.” He took his last capsule. “The end result of all that madness is Christian colleges and shopping malls.”
“Sounds like a fair trade-off,” Alex said.
Lester laughed a little, which was good to hear. Then he said, “Maybe you’re right, kid.”
They took turns using the bathroom. Lester shut off the nightstand light. “Sleep well, kid. You’ve got a driving lesson tomorrow.”
THE SUN wasn’t even all the way up, but Lester was out of bed and maneuvering himself around the room, switching on every lamp and spreading the curtain wide. “Rise and shine, kid.”
Like most mornings, Alex awakened with a stiff dick, which had nothing to do with a dream or a fantasy. Just his body’s way of saluting the new day. Usually he didn’t mind. Today was different. He sat up with the bedspread draped over his lap, waiting for the erection to die down. Lester sat across on the other bed, reading a section of the complimentary USA Today. Figuring it was safe, Alex cupped his hands over his boxers and started for
the bathroom.
“Meet you downstairs for breakfast,” Lester said.
“Sounds good.”
“And no whacking off.” He rolled up the newspaper and pointed it toward Alex’s groin. “We got us a tight itinerary.”
Alex blushed his way to the bathroom.
The hotel lobby had a self-serve breakfast bar stocked with enough food for a serious binge. Alex ambled his way around the U-shaped bar, loading up his plate with biscuits and sausage gravy, scrambled eggs, a blueberry yogurt and a chocolate muffin. He could hear a group of old people with Southern accents recounting their drive along the Blue Ridge Parkway all the way up from Asheville. Next table over was Lester sitting alone eating a bowl of instant oatmeal. He put his newspaper on his lap to make room for Alex’s tray.
As Alex sat down, the group stopped talking. In fact, the whole lobby was quiet.
“Guess we make quite a pair,” Lester said, loudly enough for the other diners to hear. Then, just as quickly, the crowd started talking again like nothing happened.
Alex looked around and whispered, “I feel like I’m on camera.”
“Get used to it,” Lester said. “We’re south of the Mason Dixon. Last time I was around here, interracial mixing was about as common as sushi bars.”
“You mean Southerners don’t like sushi?”
Lester laughed then pointed to Alex’s tray. “You got enough there for a small village.”
Alex nodded as he forked a saturated piece of biscuit.
“Hope you don’t have a nervous stomach. I don’t want you vomiting all over my interior.” It occurred to Alex that Lester would have been in far better shape if he’d taken care of himself as well as his blessed Cadillac.
“I can handle it,” Alex said. But since he’d never driven before, he wasn’t completely sure. He set aside the muffin and yogurt. Meanwhile Lester went up to the front desk and took care of the bill.
“FIGURE WE got about an hour before the mall opens,” Lester said from the driver’s seat. They were sitting at a red light. “We’ll use the parking lot for your first lesson. You need to get a feel for the car.” Except for a few vehicles scattered about, the mall parking lot was a desert of asphalt and yellow lines. Lester drove to a remote spot near a concrete lamppost. He cut the engine and opened his door. “Time to switch,” he said, handing over the keys.
Cadillac Chronicles Page 5