by Ray Gorham
The discussion of the Kleins continued, with Doug filling in details that Connie hadn’t known. Finally, they moved on to more mundane subjects. During a discussion on heating homes, Jennifer noticed Doug bend down under the table, and just as his head disappeared, she felt a hand on her knee. She immediately clamped her legs together to try and stop his hand as it slid up her leg, but he persisted. She kicked blindly at him and felt her foot connect with some part of his body, followed immediately by the sound of his head banging against the underside of the table.
The noise caught the attention of the group, and conversation paused. Doug emerged from under the table, making a show of placing a pen on the notepad in front of him and rubbing his head. “Excuse me,” he said, with a shrug of his shoulders and a goofy look on his face.
The group turned back to Connie and the discussion resumed, with no further thought given to the disruption.
Jennifer was dumbfounded, unable to believe Doug’s audacity. Shaking and on the verge of tears, she clenched her fist and placed it in front of her mouth, forcing herself to breath slowly as she struggled to control herself. Doug joined in on the discussion, carrying on as if nothing had happened.
Jennifer felt a hand on her arm and jumped. She turned to Carol, who was sitting beside her, and Carol gave her a puzzled look.
“Are you okay?” Carol mouthed.
Jennifer nodded while blinking her eyes and trying to stymie the tears. Carol pressed further. “Are you sure?” she whispered.
Jennifer nodded again and held up a hand to reassure her. “I’ll be fine,” she mouthed back. She forced herself to pick up her pen and take notes on the discussion, but each time Doug spoke, the memory of him forcing himself on her, and his odors, and the kiss made her gag.
Finally, the meeting wrapped up and the council began to disperse. Jennifer stalled until she knew Doug was gone, then thanked Connie as she handed in her notes from the meeting and let herself out of the house. Jennifer crossed the street and waved to Craig and Carol who were visiting on the sidewalk. “See you next week,” she called to them.
Carol motioned to Jennifer. “Wait for me, would you?’ she called.
Jennifer stopped, unsure if she wanted to be questioned, but not wanting to just walk off on her friend, a friend who she needed right now. She could see Doug a block ahead, methodically making his way home. At least waiting would give her more separation from the jerk, she thought. She waited while Carol and Craig said goodbye and Carol walked over to join her.
“Sorry to make you wait,” Carol said.
“That’s fine. Beats walking home alone.” Jennifer hoped that she sounded more sincere than she felt.
“So what’s going on?”
“Oh, just the usual. Trying to find food, taking care of the kids. You know.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” said Carol. “What got you so upset at the meeting?”
Jennifer walked along, deciding if she wanted to talk about it. She watched Doug up ahead, scanning the houses as he walked, acting all official-like.
Carol followed Jennifer’s gaze. “Something happen with Doug?”
Jennifer pursed her lips and looked at the ground. “I guess you could say that.” Her voice trailed off as she spoke.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Jennifer.” Carol said, putting her hand on Jennifer’s shoulder. “Things happen. Times are tough. No one is going to blame you. He seems like a nice guy.”
“What? No. Wait.” Jennifer glared at Carol, pushing Carol’s hand off her shoulder. “You think I did something with him? With that creep?” Her eyes bugged wide, and tears welled up. “I can’t believe you’d think that. I thought you were my friend.” Jennifer turned and walked away.
“Jennifer! Jennifer!” Carol called, hurrying to catch up. “Please. I’m sorry. I guess I got it wrong. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She caught Jennifer by the arm, turning her around. Jennifer wiped at her nose and turned her head away.
For a moment, they silently stood on the side of the road while Jennifer composed herself. Jennifer didn’t know Carol all that well, but had felt a connection with the older woman from their first conversation. Carol seemed like someone she could relate to, and right now Jennifer needed to talk.
“I didn’t sleep with Doug,” Jennifer said firmly. “Although it would probably be easier if I did.”
“What do you mean?” Carol asked, puzzled.
“Well,” began Jennifer, “Doug has made it pretty clear that he wants to be more than acquaintances. I don’t want anything to do with him, and the more I resist, the worse it gets, but he won’t take no for an answer. The other night he showed up drunk at my house. I think he would have raped me if I hadn’t gotten away from him.” Jennifer started walking again as the events of the past couple of weeks tumbled out, finding it a great relief to finally be able to open up to someone about her problems with Doug.
Carol walked beside Jennifer, her arm draped supportively across Jennifer’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Jennifer. I had no idea.”
“Don’t apologize, Carol. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset. There’s no reason you would have known.”
“But still, I should have given you more credit. I guess it says something about our society when everyone’s first guess is that the sex happened, not that it didn’t.”
“Yeah, I suppose. I think it’s my dad’s fault.”
“What does your dad have to do with Doug?”
Jennifer shook her head. “He doesn’t have anything to do with Doug. He’s why I reacted so harshly when you thought I had sex with Doug.”
“Was he a preacher or something?”
“A preacher?” Jennifer laughed. “There’s a funny thought -- my dad a preacher.”
Carol laughed along with Jennifer. “I’m not sure why that’s so funny, but at least you’re smiling. So fill me in on the joke. How’s your reaction related to your father?”
“My dad is a truck driver.”
“I don’t get it. Was he really protective of you, or something?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that.” Jennifer was quiet as they walked, trying to figure out how best to explain her family dynamics to Carol, and Carol just waited, willing to listen. Finally Jennifer had her thoughts collected. “Dad would be gone for weeks at a time. My mother was, correct that, is a wonderful, pure woman. It was her doctor who clued her in on the fact that dad was unfaithful.”
Carol nodded. “I see.”
“I was just twelve at the time, so I didn’t understand everything that was going on. My sister, she’s four years older than me, she explained everything to me when I was in high school. All I knew before that was that mom and dad didn’t love each other anymore. I had spent three weeks riding with dad that summer and thought it had something to do with me, or at least that I should have been able to fix things.”
“You don’t still hold yourself responsible for their marriage breaking up, do you?” Carol asked.
“No, I realize the problems were theirs, not mine. But I’ll always remember how what my father did affected my mother. It was months before I didn’t hear her cry anymore at night; she was such an emotional wreck that she even lost her job as a teacher. My mom was beautiful, and not even forty, but she refused to date anyone, let alone get serious with anyone, because she didn’t ever want to pass along to someone else what dad had given to her.”
“How long did it take you to get over it? That would be tough on a young girl.”
“I’m not sure that I ever fully have. I was right at that age when girls start to think about boys and here I was, passionately hating the most important man in my life. It took me a long time. I dated a half a dozen times in high school, but I never let myself get close to any boys. I didn’t want to allow anyone to do to me what my father did to my mother.”
“Well, you’re happily married now, so you must’ve gotten past that.”
“I’ve gotten over it for the most part, but Kyl
e doesn’t even know the whole story. It’s just mom, my sister, and me that are in on the family secret, a skeleton mom wants buried with her. I’m surprised I even told you.”
“Your secret’s safe with me. I am sorry, again, that I assumed what I did.”
“It’s fine. It’s been over twenty years since my parents divorced, so the wound’s healed over for the most part; there’s just a lot of scar tissue that doesn’t want to disappear.”
They arrived at Carol’s house, and Jennifer finished telling Carol about her troubles with Doug while they snacked on apples picked from a tree in Carol’s backyard.
“So what are you going to do?” Carol asked when Jennifer seemed talked out.
Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t know. On different days I have different feelings. If he had tried to get in the house last Friday, I was so mad I would have shot him and not thought twice about it. Then today, before his little stunt, I was thinking, hey, he’s not such a bad guy. I bet he just got carried away and things will be civil between us. But then he got handsy under the table, and I wanted to shoot him again.” Jennifer ran her hands through her hair as she spoke then dropped them to the table in exasperation. “What do you think I should do?”
Carol absentmindedly wiped at smudges on the table with a dishtowel. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “I’ve never had to deal with a situation like this.”
“Sometimes I ask myself if it wouldn’t be easier to just give Doug what he wants. I mean, if I do, who’s going to know except for him and me, and now maybe you? Maybe then he’d get bored with me and go away. Like he says, I don’t even know if Kyle is still alive, so what am I saving myself for. But, if I do it,” Jennifer paused, trying to swallow the idea. “If I do it, I’ve still got to live with myself.”
“Jenn, men will never understand, and a lot of women don’t either, but sex can never be a casual thing for us. For guys it can, apparently, but not us; it’s tied in too closely with our emotions, and it messes with our feelings. My second daughter had to learn that the hard way. She dated this boy for about six months, and at some point things got sexual. Then something happened, and he moved on, but she couldn’t. As far as I know, he never gave her a second thought, but she was depressed for weeks, even started thinking suicide. These naive kids think that a condom eliminates all of the residual effects of sex, but it doesn’t. It might prevent a baby, but there’s so much more to it than what they’re told to expect. I guess that’s what happens when you get your information at school or on TV.” Carol looked at Jennifer and chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to climb up on my soapbox and lecture, but after a couple months in therapy with my daughter, I got pretty opinionated on the subject.”
“Don’t apologize, Carol. I spilled my guts to you, it’s only fair you get to vent a little, too. Besides, I feel the same way, and it’s nice to hear someone else confirm my thoughts. I honestly don’t think things would be better if I have sex with Doug. He might be happier, but I know I wouldn’t be. What do I do though? What he did today was tell me he’s still there; I’m sure of it. It’s not like he was expecting that I was going to crawl under the table and let him take me on the floor. He was telling me that last week wasn’t the end, that he’s not afraid of me.”
“Do you think the council could do anything?” Carol asked. “He seems to feel important there. Maybe we could lean on him a little bit.”
Jennifer shook her head. “I don’t think so. What could the council do anyway? We can barely even get people to share their generators and food. How’s anyone going to stop the guy with the biggest weapons from coming on to me? There isn’t even a jail, for Pete’s sake. And for that matter, I’m not even sure that what he’s done is illegal. I can promise you it was heading in that direction, but nobody gets locked up for kissing, not even if they’ve got a record.”
Both of them thought about the problem, Jennifer picking at her last piece of apple and Carol twisting the towel she held, but there was no easy solution. Jennifer finally spoke. “Do you think one of the towns around here has a functioning police department? Maybe someone Doug worked with could talk to him.”
Carol shook her head. “I don’t think so, Jennifer. From what I hear, our little community is doing pretty good.”
Jennifer looked at Carol quizzically. “What do you mean?”
“I was talking to Craig after the meeting. Earlier this week he rode his horse to Missoula to visit a brother. Said things are pretty bad there. Apparently, at first people just looted from stores and suffered along with what food they had. But after a week or so they realized that nobody would be stepping in to fix things any time soon, and the new furniture and the nice TVs they’d taken weren’t going to keep them alive. That’s when people started getting desperate, forming gangs and stuff. Craig said his brother’s scared and is going to bring his family out here as soon as he can get their things together, hopefully before it gets too much worse.”
“How bad is he talking?” asked Jennifer.
“Well, he didn’t have a chance to say a lot because I wanted to catch up to you, but it sounds scary. People getting shot for food, suicides, lots of people dying, and no morgues or cemeteries operating. There isn’t really any kind of functioning police force, even there: it sounds like borderline anarchy.”
“Guess I shouldn’t complain, should I?”
“All it means is we’ve got to deal with our own problems, not that we don’t have any. No one is going to come out here and save us. Just be glad we don’t live in New York or Los Angeles or some other big city. I can’t imagine the desperation in those places right now.”
Jennifer shuddered. “Looks like I’m going to have to deal with this on my own. I wish he would just lose interest. Maybe if I shaved my head and let him see my hairy legs it would turn him off.”
Carol laughed out loud and patted Jennifer’s hand. “We’ll figure something out,” she said. “Try not to let it get you too down.”
CHAPTER 23
Thursday, October 6th
South of Cheyenne, Wyoming
Day 34
Cheyenne lies a few miles ahead of me. I would pass through today, but I’d rather not go through in the daylight. Going through cities at night, even with the darkness, scares me less than facing the people in the daytime. It’s a helpless feeling, knowing that if I run into trouble, I’m on my own. I carry a handgun in my belt, but that doesn’t provide much comfort. In the past when I saw a policeman, it always made me a little nervous. Now a real-life cop would be a welcome sight. I‘ve met a couple of sheriffs in some small towns. They were on foot and were nice enough, but pretty interested in me passing through in a hurry.
I’m in Wyoming, and it’s exciting to think I’m in a state neighboring my own. Seems kind of juvenile, but does help keep the motivation up. I’m over halfway home and close to being on schedule. The weather has been great. I’m not sure how long my luck will hold out, but I think I’ll be home before winter. Emma, you’d enjoy the colors in the mountains. I know how you like fall and the way the leaves change. I’m seeing a lot of red and gold, and it’s been really pretty, just wish it didn’t mean that cold weather’s on the way.
I love you all.
Tuesday, October 11th
Central Wyoming
The muscles in Kyle’s legs burned as he trudged towards the top of the hill. The gradual rises and dips of the western prairie had given way, over the past week and a half, to the steeper slopes of the foothills, and he was feeling it. Reaching a level area near the top of the hill, Kyle braced his cart and dropped to the ground in the shelter of a maroon suburban that had been carefully pulled off to the side of the road. It provided a good break from the chilling wind that whistled in from the west as well as a place where Kyle could sit and catch his breath.
Once rested, Kyle stood up and walked the remaining distance to the top of the hill. It was only a few hundred feet further along, and walking without the cart was easy and
felt good. At the crest of the hill, he surveyed the surrounding area. To the north, the highway trailed off in the distance, rolling over and around and behind the hills that stood in his way. To the east, the foothills gave way to the rolling, brown expanse of the prairies. South of where he stood, Kyle assessed the miles of road he’d covered that day, road that had been difficult and had slowed his progress considerably. Cheyenne had disappeared from view early yesterday morning and was now miles behind him, another city he could cross off his well-worn map.
To the west, the mountains rose in a growing crescendo, reaching their climax with the rocky, snow-clad peaks far off in the distance. He studied the scene, trying to put to rest his nagging doubts about the route he had taken. He had chosen to take the interstate from Fort Collins to Casper instead of the shorter looking route through Laramie, hoping that the roads to the east would be less hilly and easier to cover. Having strained over numerous hills since making that decision, however, Kyle wondered if his choice had been the right one.
Still second-guessing himself, Kyle returned to his cart, pointed it north, and took up his journey.
Houses in this part of Wyoming seemed further and further apart. Sometimes he walked for hours without seeing a house, giving him a sense of complete isolation. Only the interstate, littered every few hundred yards with abandoned vehicles, kept him from feeling as if he had been dropped in the middle of another planet.
As dusk descended, Kyle picked out a semi a mile ahead for his evening lodging and, with a goal in sight, picked up his pace. Twenty minutes later he was sheltering his cart under the trailer. Finding the side window broken and the truck’s door unlocked, Kyle called out and knocked on the window, then climbed inside when he was sure the cab was empty. In the fading light, he set up a bed in the back, then returned to the front seat to watch the final few minutes of sunset and the nightly unveiling of the stars. He’d come to appreciate sunsets on his journey, both for their beauty and as a confirmation that he had survived another day, and each day survived meant he was another day closer to home.