Places I Never Meant To Go

by Shay Lynam

  “John? It's Tyler,” I said, my voice shaky. “How soon can I get my mom's money?”

  That night I sat outside on the front steps smoking a cigarette and letting the cold numb my aching head. After I had gotten off the phone with John earlier, a lump had formed in my stomach. “Well, mom,” I had muttered. “You've managed to weasel your way back in.” I couldn't even try to save someone's life without her having her hands in it.

  The door opened behind me. “Hey,” it was Paul. “How is it out there?”

  I shrugged, leaning back against the railing. “Big.”

  I heard the door close again and Paul's footsteps came down the stairs. He sat down next to me. “So you're really going to do this?”

  “Why wouldn't I?” I asked him, sucking in the last bit of cancer from my cigarette.

  “Don't you think the police are doing everything they can to find her? I mean, what if you get all the way to Portland and they've already got her and brought the guy that kidnapped her into custody? You will have driven almost three thousand miles for nothing.”

  “It wouldn't be for nothing. Even if they already found her. Even if she wasn't gone to begin with, it would never be for nothing.”

  Paul sighed. “You would do all this for a girl you found on the internet? That you've never even met in real life?”

  I nodded.

  “Do you love her?”

  “Love is a word Hollywood created so you have to buy each other senseless crap on Valentine's Day or make you feel bad if you didn't,” I replied.

  “But you didn't answer my question,” Paul said. “Do you love her?”

  I flicked the stub of my cigarette down onto the sidewalk and looked out at the traffic. Our street was always busy with cars and people so it was ground into the cement only seconds later by the boot of a homeless man. “Yeah,” I muttered as I watched him sulk down the sidewalk. “Crap, I think I do.” With a sigh I got up and started back inside.

  Paul turned around. “What are you doing?”

  I stopped and turned to face him. “I'm going to drink until my internal organs start a revolution and leave,” I said then shut the door behind me.

  The next day, I made my way into the city. My mom's building was the tallest on the block and loomed over everything else the way she did over my life. John had asked me to meet him in his office at two o' clock so I had called into work and gotten chewed out by Jameson, not James or Jim. Now, here I stood outside the doors trying to get enough courage to knock. By the time I finally did, it was fifteen minutes past and he answered the door with a look of relief in his eyes.

  “I wasn't sure if you were going to actually show up,” he said, stepping aside so I could come in.

  “I wouldn't have,” I replied, “but this is kind of an emergency.”

  His office was on the thirty-sixth floor so one window had a good view of Central Park while the adjacent window looked down at a shorter building below.

  “What's the emergency, Tyler?” John asked me sitting behind his desk. I stayed standing with my hands in my pockets. I watched a city bus down below pick up a group of people and then turn down a different street. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  I finally looked at him. “I just need to get to Oregon as soon as possible,” I replied, “and I need my mom's money to get me there.”

  “Again, are you in trouble?”

  I shook my head. “I just need it.”

  John let out a big sigh and clasped his hands together. “Well,” he started, “here's the thing. Not long before your mother died, she put your name on all her bank accounts.”

  “So, everything is already mine?” I asked.

  “Theoretically, yes. Well, the money is. There's still her investments, stocks, properties, all these still need to be sorted out, legal fees need to be paid.”

  “But the money is mine,” I repeated.

  “Yes. The money is yours.”

  “How much?”

  “About a three hundred thousand.”

  “Alright,” I rubbed my hands together. “That's all I need then. Thanks for meeting with me.” I was almost to the door when John stopped me.

  “Tyler,” he said and I turned around. “Your mom really did care about you.”

  I shook my head trying not to laugh. “Is that what she told you? Or do you just assume?”

  “I could tell.”

  “Well,” I opened his door. “Then your perception of reality kind of sucks.

  Once I hit the street, I walked to the nearest department store and bought the first black sports bag I grabbed. After talking to John and finding out I already had Mom's money, I decided right then and there that I was leaving that night.

  Only when I walked into the bank and saw the security guard coming toward me did I realize that a man walking into a bank with a big black bag probably looked a little suspicious.

  “Can we help you, sir?” he asked me.

  I looked down at the bag. “I know what this looks like, but I can assure you I am most definitely not here to rob you guys.”

  He looked at me cynically. “Then what, may I ask, are you doing?”

  “I just need to empty my bank account.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  I looked him in the eye. “I just installed a rather large in-ground swimming pool and would like very much to dive into my money like they do in the cartoons.”

  The security guard smiled at me and said through gritted teeth, “Right this way.”

  Being that I was withdrawing three hundred thousand dollars from my mom's account, they didn't have me do it right there in line. I was taken back through the offices and into a small room with a table and a door leading out the other side. After only a few minutes, a man in a suit came through the door.

  “What can we do for you, sir?” he asked me.

  “I would like to clean out my bank account,” I replied. “I want to withdraw everything and I brought this bag to carry it all out.”

  “Can we ask you why?”

  “I'm taking a trip,” I said, “and I'm not sure how long I'm going to be gone.” Then I leaned my hands on the table between us and looked him in the eye. “Does it really matter?”

  The man studied me for a second. “Well, here's the thing,” he said standing straight up and adjusting his suit. “We cannot let you take that much money from this branch as it wouldn't leave enough for any other large withdrawals. You can, however, take a smaller amount now, say a third, and the rest perhaps a week from now.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, okay, I think that will work just fine.”

  “Then let's get that money for you, may I?” the man held out his arms and I placed the empty bag on his hands. “Thank you for your patience, sir.”

  I gave him a quick smile then found a chair against the wall and sat in it. Not too long passed before he came back, my bag noticeably heavier. He placed it on the table between us. “Here you are, sir. One hundred thousand.” Then he proceeded to open the bag and begin to take out the stacks of bills.

  I got up and went over to him. “It's okay,” I said. “I trust you.”

  The man looked at me for a second. “Very well then,” he said and began putting it back in. “Our security guard, Ethan, will escort you out and wait for you to get a cab.”

  “Thanks,” I replied slinging the bag over my shoulder. “I appreciate it.” Then I shook his hand and headed back out in the hall where Ethan was waiting for me.

  “Right this way, sir,” he said and led me back down the hall.

  We went through a different door that led back outside to the street. A few people were eying my bag as I stood there waiting for a cab. When one did finally come, Ethan opened the door for me.

  “You are a gentleman and a scholar,” I said to him before reaching into my bag and pulling out a bill. I'm not really sure what it was but when put I it in Ethan's hand, his eyes grew large and he smiled.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said excitedly then
closed the door and headed back into the bank.

  “Where to?” the cab driver asked looking at me through the rear view mirror.

  I looked out the window at Central Park and at the people walking around. I was planning on leaving that night but there was still so much I needed to do, so much I needed to think about. “I guess just drive,” I said.

  The cab driver took me out of the hustle and bustle of the inner city and onto the residential streets where there was less traffic. I could tell by the set of his shoulders that this was a place he liked to drive. During this time, I had my phone out writing down things I needed to do. Number one, I definitely needed to pack something to keep me awake on this forty eight hour drive. If not for the fact that the girl I loved, according to Paul, could be in mortal danger, I would have planned to make this a long, self discovering feelgood trip with plenty of stops and an epic soundtrack but that wasn't really the case. I needed coffee, I needed cigarettes, I needed loud annoying death metal to keep me awake and alert. I needed a car.

  “Stop here,” I said quickly and the cab driver hit the breaks.

  I got out and ran up the sidewalk and up the stairs to a rickety looking house. After knocking and waiting impatiently, an old woman answered, opening the door just a crack. “Yes?” she asked me.

  “Is that your car parked on the street with the 'for sale' sign?” I asked her.

  She opened the door farther so she could step out and look. “That's my grandson's,” she replied. “I will get him.” Then the door closed and I was left alone again.

  Before she could come back, I hurried back down the stairs and to the cab where I grabbed my bag of money and handed a few bills to the driver. “Thanks, man,” I said to him and patted his shoulder before turning and heading back up to the porch. I think I heard him say “holy crap” before taking off quickly down the street. He was probably afraid I had made a mistake and given him the wrong amount. When I glanced in the bag, I saw they were stacks of one hundred dollar bills. No wonder he and the security guard had gotten excited.

  The door opened back up and the woman and a gangly teenager stepped out. “You the guy that wants the car?” he asked me, swishing his hair out of his face, only for it to fall back down into his eyes.

  “Yeah,” I said looking back at it. “Does it run?”

  “Yeah,” he said and started down the stairs. “It runs fine, I'm trying to save up money for this bomb guitar I wanna get.”

  “Necessities.” I said with a nod.

  “Yeah, I'll have enough when I sell this.”

  I circled the car inspecting it from every angle. It was just a regular black Honda, looked to be made around when he was born. The paint on the hood looked like it had chipped, been repainted one color, chipped away again and repainted to the black. A tiny crack spread across the top corner of the passenger side of the windshield like a spider web and the antennae had been hacked off half way down.

  “Anything wrong with it?” I finally asked.

  “Sometimes the trunk has trouble closing after you open it. Here, I'll show you.” The kid hefted up his skinny jeans then pulled the keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. He popped open the trunk and I followed him back to the bumper. “The spare tire is under here,” he said lifting a piece of plywood, “and the jack and everything comes with it. But see here?” He slammed the trunk shut. Two seconds later it popped back open and slowly climbed till it hit the top. “So you just have to kind of force it.” He slammed the lid down again causing his grandmother to jump and place her hand on her chest. “Then you have to wiggle it a bit to get the latch to lock down.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” I said. “How much?”

  “Well,” the kid put his hands in his back pockets and swished his hair again. “I'm asking twelve hundred for it but I can be talked down, I guess.”

  I went around and opened the driver's side door and got in. It looked alright from the inside. The passenger seat was a bit torn and the seat belts frayed. I opened the glove compartment to find a manual, a pack and a half of cigarettes, a lighter and a few CDs. I looked back out at the kid standing on the street next to me and his grandmother standing up on the porch in her robe. “Does she know you smoke?” I asked him. He looked back at his grandma then at me and shook his head. “Tell you what,” I said placing my hands on the wheel and turning it left and right. “If you throw in the CDs and cigarettes, I'll give you fifteen.”

  “Hundred?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, then you can get an even more bomb guitar.”

  “That would be awesome!” he yelled putting his hands up on his head. “That would be so great, you got a deal.”

  When the car didn't start right at first, I saw the kid's face turn white. The second attempt, it came to life with a guttural cough and the color drained back into him. I waved to him and his grandma then put it in first and started down the street, testing the brakes and the clutch to make sure everything really was working as well as he had said it would.

  I hadn't been behind the wheel ever since I left for college. I had gotten a car back when I lived with Mom in hopes that I could get away from her as much as possible. Not two weeks after I had bought it, the car disappeared and she refused to tell me what she had done with it. I had enrolled in community college the following day.

  Now it felt so weird being in the driver's seat as apposed to in the back seat of a cab as I wove through traffic, headed for the other side of town.

  I stopped at a grocery store and brainlessly tossed things in my cart without really paying attention. Jerky, Mountain Dew, a few things of Ibuprofen and a bottle of Jack were quickly buried beneath other things I don't really remember. When everything was all said and done, I had paid nearly five hundred dollars. Looking at all these bags in the trunk of the car, I really hoped I was doing the right thing. You are, Tyler, I told myself. Then shut the trunk and got in.

  Before I turned out of the parking lot, I glanced in my rear view mirror and was confused for a second when I saw nothing but black. Looking back, I realized the trunk had opened back up and it took me a few tries to get it closed and then stayed closed.

  Now I had a car and I had enough junk food to feed a small country. I was tempted to turn onto the freeway right there and start off, but at the back of my mind, I knew I needed to at least let Paul know that I was headed out. I probably needed to let Jameson, not James or Jim know too but that could wait till the following day when he called to chew me out and find out where I was.

  I headed home and parked out front, going through the trunk and pulling out the bottle of Jack. Inside, Paul was sitting at the table on his laptop.

  “I'm surprised you haven't grown into that chair yet,” I said with a smile. “Do you do anything else?” Then I set the bottle down in front of him.

  “Hey, you sit on your butt all day at an office, and I do it here. No room to judge, my friend,” then he noticed the Jack. “What's this?” he asked me.

  I looked down at my hands. “So, I'm leaving tonight,” I said.

  “When?”

  “Soon.”

  Paul studied me for a second then sighed. “I was kind of being a jerk the other night.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, I lay it on you that I'm getting married and then I question if it would be worth it to save this girl you have never met. It's your life, Tyler.”

  I shrugged. “You were just worried.”

  “I still am, but that doesn't give me the right to make you doubt yourself.”

  I nodded. The two of us were quiet for a long time. Finally I stood back up. “I just have to grab a few things,” I said then headed upstairs to my room.

  When I got there, I spent a minute looking around, trying to figure out what I wanted to bring. First things first, I snatched my laptop up off my desk and put it under my arm, then I grabbed my phone charger, a shirt, socks, underwear and a pair of pants before heading back downstairs.

  “Alright
,” I said to Paul. “I'm off.”

  My friend twisted the top off the bottle of Jack on the table and took a swig. “Well then,” he said once he had swallowed, “have a good trip.”

  “Thanks man,” I said and started out the door.

  “Hey, Tyler,” he continued. I turned around to look at him. “I hope you find what you're looking for.”

  With a nod, I turned and closed the door behind me.

  chapter five.

  The sun was setting as I got onto the I-80 heading West. As soon as I had gotten in my car, I 'd opened one of the bottles of Ibuprofen and downed five pills with half an energy drink. Then I dug around in the glove box until I'd picked out the nastiest looking CD and popped it into the player, cranking up the volume to almost eardrum shattering intensity. Now, I drove with my white knuckles clutching the steering wheel, my teeth gritted and my heart pounding but, hey, I was awake.

  I'm not sure how long I drove like that before my skin was crawling and I was forced to turn the music off. “How can anyone listen to this bull,” I muttered to myself taking the CD out. I rolled my window down and threw it out.

  I didn't care if that was the only thing keeping me awake, I wasn't about to let my brain melt out through my eyeballs.

  After driving for six hours, I found myself closing my eyes for a few seconds at a time. It was pitch dark outside, aside from the few cars driving with me or going the opposite direction. I didn't even really know where I was at this point. I had been driving through Pennsylvania for a while by then so I figured Ohio was just a few more miles away but with my eyelids feeling so heavy, I didn't want to risk it. I pulled off the freeway at the next exit with a glowing hotel sign and made my way in that direction.

  The place looked like something straight out of a B slasher movie. As soon as I got into my room, I made sure to check the shower for serial killers. Though I never know what the point is to that. What if there really had been a killer back there? It's not like I would have been prepared for it. Oh, please don't kill me. Take my wallet, take my car, take my complimentary robe and slippers, just don't take my life!