The Hitchhiker

A short story about a young man coming to terms with life and starting in a new direction.

The laugh rang in his ears as he sat near the road. The high, shrill, piercing, evil laugh as the engine gunned and the car sped away.

 

It all happened so fast. It was at her insistence that they park on the Currinville Road and in the warm summer night began to make out. She had helped him strip off his clothes and as their lips met and they embraced, his clothes lay rejected in the back seat.

 

Suddenly, without warning, she released the door handle and he fell out onto the ground. The door slammed shut, locked, and there was a evil laugh as the car sped away. Now he was all alone. A few cars had sped past but he had taken refuge in the tall grass of the field next to the unlit road. The passing motorists could only see what their headlamps showed them and he was safely out of the line of fire.

 

As he sat there in the darkness, he thought of his abandonment, naked but not cold in the summer heat. He laid back and looked at the stars. There was no moon tonight, only the stars. He could see the satellites as they passed East to West, racing ahead of the moon before it made its nightly appearance. He could hear the rustling of the field mice as they came near then scurried away. In the distance a dog barked a warning. It was getting late and the cars were getting few and far between. A car stopped about a half mile away and a group of kids jumped out and yelled into the darkness, "Hey Robert! Gotcha clothes! Come out and let's party!"

 

This meant that she had gone into town and told about her joke. To him it was a night full of passion and emotional bonding. To her it was a joke. Yet he was not angry. The boys, not finding their victim, sped off into the night.

 

What would he do? Its was just over four miles back into town and surely they would be waiting for him. The teasing next day where he worked as a spray painter in a metals shop. Gads, he hated his life. Twenty years old and earning 6 bucks an hour spraying paint onto large metal drums! Pitiful! Living in a studio that belonged to the parents of one of the guys that always gave him a bad time, he did the best he could. His supervisor always told him what a great job he had and such career opportunity for him when he moved up. Yet when the promotions came they always seemed to go to someone else who was more popular. Six hours from now he was expected to be back on the job. It was time to go.

 

He stepped onto the side of the road and turned to face the oncoming car. It slid to a halt just past him and the driver immediately jumped out. "Get in before someone see's you!" The stranger made the request only once and got back into the car. No more was said, yet the tone of his voice assured Robert of safety and he quickly complied.

 

As the old sedan began, he expected to get the obvious stares and questions. To his surprise, the man at the wheel never so much as gave a glance. For this he was grateful. The only question, "Where do you need to go." To which he gave the address to his apartment. The radio was on a station from Portland playing a late night easy listening, the air-conditioner was set to a warmer setting and the car was comfortable, dark and quiet. The driver turned left at the main road and headed into the small community.

 

They turned onto the street and Robert saw that the buddies of the girl along with the son of his landlord had used his keys to gain access to his apartment and were in the process of trashing the contents in glee. He quickly slid down in the seat and the drive instinctively passed the apartment without slowing. Turning to his passenger, now hiding low in the seat he asked, "What now?" Driving down the road a few blocks the driver stopped along side the road and turned out the lights. "Do you have someplace else to go?"

 

“Not really." He replied.

“Where do you want to go now?” came the next question.

"Anywhere." The answer even startled him as he sat there wondering why he had blurted out such a rediculous answer..

 

"You need to be more specific than that."

"Where were your headed?" It suddenly dawned on him that he really did not want to go home. He realized instantly that he hated his job, his apartment and his life in  general.

 

"I'm headed into Portland. I live there, in the West Hills."

"Really? Why are you way out here this late at night?"

"Visiting friends. I just stayed a bit later than I maybe should have. I should be asking you the same question. Why are your out so late and dressed as you are? This is the first time the driver ever referred to his nakedness, and it was more or less 'matter of fact'.

 

"Bad date, as you can see."

 

"Well, I need to drop you off somewhere, You can't stay in here forever. Besides, we need to make a decision, so, where do I take you?

 

"Can I go to Portland with you?" He was unaware about the request but had decided that the last thing he wanted to do was to stay in this crappy town in the crappy apartment with the crappy job and having to face these crappy people. Anything had to be better.

 

"OK, tell you what. We will swing by my place for tonight and you can stay on the couch and in the morning we can decide what to do." With that the car swung out, back onto the main highway, away from this boring town with it's boring job and its boring people.

 

The driver was a kindly sort and the boy opened up and poured his life out. He shivered from the air-conditioning and the driver, seeing this, moved the controls to a even warmer setting. The boy sat, head bowed, hands in his lap, attempting to cover the evidence of manhood.

 

The driver spoke, "First of all, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You will look back on this incident and laugh. Secondly, if you are running away from your life, do you have any idea where you are running to? It is a Friday night. By Monday you will have started a new life or you may have to come back to this little town with it's little people. Besides, by Monday you may even be a bit homesick."

 

They passed the last house of his territory and his life and moved into the final stretch of darkness before reaching the outskirts of Portland. Conversation had died. The boy was left to his thoughts. The radio had been turned to a jazz station and, with the dash lamps turned to a minimum the car drifted quietly at a mile a minute towards a new life. The air was warm and dry. Gone was the heat and the humidity. The air conditioning was doings it's job and the boy drifted off into sleep.

 

The driver moved the car gracefully through the curves of the road that followed along the river. He glanced over at the boy next to him. This boy next to him was actually more of a man yet he had the features of a youth not yet 21 but still old enough to be out of school. He still had the haircut of a youth, his hair reaching and resting comfortably on his shoulders. Hair that, at a younger age had been quite blond, but was now darkening with age.

 

Though not tall, the body was well conditioned from an honest days labor. Gone was the boy-fat but the heavy muscle and fat of manhood had not yet began to set in. The hands were large and powerful yet still had the grace of youth. They also showed signs of works, with nails darkened from the toils of labor. It was obvious that the boy knew the value of labor and he would have little difficulty finding work in the city.

The driver, experienced with life, realized that the young man next to him would not last long on the streets. He was obviously unaware of life in the city and was comfortably dozing, not realizing the life he had chosen.

 

Twenty minutes later they entered the city via a expressway. Late night traffic was light and the car slipped easily past the lights. Maneuvering from one expressway to another, the driver effortlessly followed the familiar route through town, the passenger sound asleep, unaware of the change from country to city. Only on the final leg of the trip, where the sedan turned onto a thoroughfare and crossed the river that the passenger woke and asked where they were.

 

"Over the Willamette, onto the West Side."

 

"What? Your kidding! You really brought me into Portland?" The boy sat upright, now fully awake.

 

"You said…"

 

"I know what I said! Damned, I'm actually here!" The streets were pretty much dark and deserted. The car crossed a few more intersections and pulled into the darkened parking area of a small apartment complex and stopped.

 

"This is it. You can stay on the couch for the night and we will plan tomorrow when it arrives. Wait here, I'll get something to cover you." With that the driver stepped out and disappeared into the closest apartment, leaving the boy to sit in the darkened car and think about this new experience. What was he getting himself into? What would his friends and boss think? He suddenly hated them even more deeply with feelings of revenge. Everything he had was now gone. The only thing left was a bank account and even that was not accessible because now his identification was also gone. Here he was naked in the front seat of a strangers car in a town many miles from his home. In a way, he was terrified but in a larger way, he was excited. He realized this was to be a new life and it just could not be any worse than the one he left.

 

There was a tapping on the car window. The man that had drove him in was there with clothes. He rolled the window down. "Here, put these on and come in. I know they won't fit but they will get you inside." The man turned and left. Dressing quickly, he followed. The clothes were quite large around the waist and the shirt fit like a tent, The boy felt ridiculous and uncomfortable in them.

Entering the apartment, he was a bit surprised as to how it was. It was like coming home. The apartment was furnished with a large overstuffed chair and matching sofa that one could sink into and just fade away. Back to back to the sofa was a old spinet piano and lining two of the living room walls were shelves full of hundreds of books. The dining room had a large mahogany table, chairs and hutch that looked like it was hundreds of years old. The place was not elegant as much as it was comfortable.

"Welcome, make yourself at home. I need coffee, want some?"

"Sure, sounds good." His host was gracious and he realized that this was a place he would like to stay.

"Go ahead and check out the apartment. My room is the large bedroom. Your room will be the smaller room with the single bed. Tomorrow we can look for clothes that fit. Coffee should be done in a few minutes. Want a sandwitch?"

"Yea, if it's okay. I'm hungry." With that, he walked down the hall and entered the master bedroom. It was done in the same dark wood as the dining room and there was a dresser on the far wall and a chest of drawers in a nook in the wall next to the door. The large bed centered the room with a headboard and footboard that looked hand hewn. Behind the bed on the wall was a huge painting of a forest of deciduous trees in autumn. The room was warm and inviting.

Stepping into the smaller room, there was a dresser, small desk, several shelves of books and a single bed. It was comfortable but definitely a spare room with little attention to decorating as was done in the rest of the apartment. The smell of coffee was nearly overpowering and he left for the kitchen, tugging at the loose fitting pants to keep them from falling off.

"I wish I had at least a belt that you could use." The man laughed at the loose fitting clothes and handed the boy a cup of coffee and headed down the hall and into the large bedroom.

The boy studied the apartment, looking over the large collection of books. He pulled a large book off a lower shelf and began looking through, turning the pages and looking at the pictures of a desert country. Setting the book on a reading table he wandered down the hall and stopped at the door of the master bedroom and watched the activity inside. His host was undressing and had pulled off his shirt and tie. What the boy saw was a middle-aged man in fairly good condition. He was covered in a medium brown fur that looked soft. The boy wanted to touch this but realized that would not be possible so he stood, with his coffee in his hands and watched.

The man turned. "Yes?" he asked when he noticed his visitor watching him with keen interest.

"Oh, sorry. Didn't mean to stare. I guess my mind was wandering."

"Where to? Anyplace interesting.?"
"Not really. I was just thinking about all that happened tonight. There I was, a job, a place to live and I thought, a girlfriend. Now here I am, nearly homeless and a long way from home."

"If you want," The man responded, "I can take you back in the morning. I'm going to bed pretty quick. You want a tee-shirt or something to wear to bed?"

"No thanks. I sleep with nothing on. But I do have a request."

"Yea"

"Can I stay in here with you? I would feel better if we were in the same room." The need for companionship overpowered the need for his own space and for some reason he wanted to stay in the master room in the big bed.

"I don't see why not. Sure, for tonight anyway." The man tried not to look directly at the visitor that was now becoming more intimate than he really was prepared to deal with.

 

Author's Note

This is the beginning of the story. It has a way to go before it finds a conclusion. Please feel free to comment as I am new at this and have been told that my work is absolutely unacceptable.