Friday, November 16, 2007

The Lonely Highway


The Lonely Highway
a short story by Tom Reilly

I got into Wichita at about 7:30 at night. The drive to McPhearson was 87 miles of flat, straight highway with nothing but oilrigs dotting the shoulders. I had done the route a few times before and knew how long it would take to get to Dumont’s hotel. Once there, I could go down to the bar, have a nice tall glass of Wichita Red and hit the sack relatively early.

Well, that didn’t happen this trip.

I was a little over an hour away from the airport, just past Newton on interstate 135 when the beer that I had on the plane started to kick in again. Rather, the beer started to kick again inside of me. I could feel the pressure rising in my groin and knew that if I didn’t stop soon I’d have to pull off and go on the shoulder. Not that that really mattered, you see. Heck, all that was out there was a bunch of oilrigs grinding away in eternal drones of unlubricated metal. There weren’t any other cars, trucks or even horses on the road. I could pull over, shout at the top of my lungs, blast the horn, shoot a gun, heck shoot a cannon and nobody would hear.

But, I could’ve used a coffee, even if it was made in the middle of Kansas. I just passed exit 33 so I knew that the next exit was pretty close, about eight miles. I’d just have to hold it for another five minutes or so.

About a mile before the exit I read those signs that they have telling you what services are at the next exit. Only problem was that there was just one sign. “Charlie’s” is what it said. Oh well, I thought. “Charlie’s it’ll have to be.

I slowed down and turned off at exit 42. The exit ramp curved towards the right and came to a stop sign. Off to the left, I saw the lights of Charlie’s place about a half mile down the road. As I got closer, I saw that there was only one light outside of Charlie’s illuminating the gas pumps.

Two old, really old, Texaco pumps stood about twenty feet in front of a one-story brick building. There was a garage bay door on the left. A large, plate-glass window, had a strip of gray duct tape going up at an angle in the lower right corner. The door in the center of the building was wide open. Actually, I couldn’t tell if there was a door or not. The inside was as dark as the moonless night outside.

I pulled my car between the pumps and the building and got out.

“How do, stranger!” behind me.

I nearly fell over, not from loss of balance or surprise but from the sheer force of high decibels at close range.

An arm with a lumberjack’s grip saved me from splitting my head open on the car’s hood.

“Ha! Didn’t mean to scare ya, young feller”, he said just as loud as he pulled me to my feet.

“You scared the crap out of me is what you did!” I said. “You do that to all of your customers?”

“Nope. Just the ones that come here”.

“Listen, I’m not hard of hearing. I can hear you very well. Are you hard of hearing?” I asked talking very slowly and directing my voice towards his eyes as if I were talking to a deaf person.

“Uh, nope. I haven’t had a customer in awhile, so’s I guess I ain’t used ta talkin’.” He said still booming in a menacing tone.

“Look”, I said holding up my hands in defense. “Just tone it down a little will ya?”.

“Uh, sorry, mister. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ya. I didn’t mean to be so loud. I’m really, really REALLY sorry!”

“OK OK OK!” I said. “Do you have any coffee?”

“Nope. But I’ll make ya some”.

“Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing. The next exit isn’t that far, so I’ll just head up the road. It’s all right, OK?”

“I didn’t mean to scare ya, mister! I’m sorry! Really I am!” he said almost crying.

“It’s OK” I said as I quickly got back into the car.

I half waved at him as I drove off. From the view in the mirror, he looked as if he was waving goodbye to his girl friend. like you see in the movies where she’s leaving on the train or bus and the boy friend has to stay behind.

I shook my head and accelerated onto the highway.

I still had to pee real bad and thought about pulling over when I saw another sign up ahead. The lights from the car caught it but it was still too far away to read. Again it was one of those service signs.

“Charlie’s” it said.

“What the…” I said, almost peeing in my pants.

“Exit 42” I said out loud as I stared at the sign slowing down to make the ramp.

“What’d I do? Got on the wrong way? Can’t be. I still only went one exit.”

At the stop sign at the end of the ramp, I looked left and saw the glow of light just as I had earlier. My bladder was about to explode so I said “What the heck. Maybe he made coffee. If not I’ll pee and be off.”

I pulled into the same spot between the pumps and the building. The building was still dark as before. When I got out this time, I looked behind me to see if he was sneaking up on me. Nobody there. I turned towards the building.

“How do, Mister!”

I started falling the other way this time and again his derrick of an arm caught me before I could hurt myself.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Mister!” He said just as loud as before.

“It’s OK, it’s OK” I said backing away slightly. “Did you make that coffee?”

“Nope. But I can real quick!”

“It’s OK. Look I just have to pee. Do you have a restroom that I can use?”

“Nope. But you can come in and use the toilet if ya want.” He said making a noticeable effort to lower his voice. “I’ll have coffee ready before ya get done!”

“Thanks” I said as I followed him to the open door.

He waddled as he walked almost as if he just learned the art of balance a few weeks ago. His head was lowered to the ground watching his every step, making sure his feet were going where they should be. When he reached the door, he stopped, stuck his right arm in and groped for the switch. Odd, I thought that he didn’t know where the switch was.

An overhead fluorescent light came to life exposing a small office combination living area. An old gray metal desk was facing the single window in the room. A gold velour couch with cushions beyond hope was on the opposite wall. Next to the couch was a water cooler, its plastic bottle leaning slightly to the side. It was empty. In the corner next to the desk was a small, portable TV on something that resembled a microwave cart. Tin foil was wrapped around the rabbit ears.

“Toilet’s in there” he said pointing to a door which had a large calendar pinned to back.

The picture over the month depicted a city street with shoppers and business people hurrying to wherever they were going. The days were crossed off in neatly formed Xs. October 25 was next to get the ax.

“Thanks” I said as I pulled open the door.

“Coffee’ll be ready before ya get out.”

“I doubt that.” I said to myself. “I’ll pee and get the heck out of here before he can even find water.”

I reached up and pulled the light chain, then closed the door. The bathroom was surprisingly clean. The toilet was spotless. An extra roll of paper was centered on the tank lid. Next to the toilet was one of those scrubber things for removing stains. A fresh bar of soap sat on the sink rim. Not a drop of water marred the gleam. Real cloth towels hung from a polished rail waiting to be ruffled.

I peed like I never peed before. Eternity passed ten times before I was done.

I washed my hands with the new bar of soap and gently wiped them on the fresh towels being careful not to mess them up too much.

I opened the door and shut the light off. Freshly made coffee made its way to my senses. “Wow, I must have had to go real bad.” I said to him as I closed the door.

“Nope. Just didn’t take long.” He said starting to raise his voice again.

“Look,” I said, “I’m sorry to have troubled you. I’m running a bit late. Thanks for letting me use your toilet, but I’ll be on my way.”

“No trouble, Mister. No trouble t’all. Sit and have a coffee. It’ll help on the road!”

“Sorry, But I really have to off.”

I sort of trotted to the car and opened the door.

“Take a cup for the road!” he shouted as he came towards me with a cup in his hand.

“No thanks!” I shouted back as I put the car in gear.

I accelerated onto route 135 a bit faster than the last time. I reached the speed limit and then settled back switching on the cruise control. Another hour and I’d be in my hotel. Then I could get my coffee.

I remembered the smell when I came out of the toilet. “Man I wish I had a cup now but I can wait. It sure beats being back there with that wacko.” I said out loud.

“No! It can’t be!” I shouted.

“Charlie’s” shown off the headlights as I passed for the third time.

“What the f… is goin’ on here?” I yelled.

“I got on the wrong way again? I don’t think so. All right, I’ll get off again and find out how to head to McPhearson.”

I turned left at the stop sign and pulled between the pumps and the building. The light over the pumps was on but the building was dark as it was before. This time I stayed in the car for a few minutes looking for the old man. No one around. I got out.

“How do, Mister!” He shouted from behind the car. “Awful glad you decided to come back! Coffee’s still hot ‘n fresh!”

“Look, pal. I just needed to pee and that’s all. How in heck do I get head to McPhearson?”

“Name’s Charlie” he said. “Not Pal”

“Gee, how could I have ever guessed?” I said with a slight smirk.

“Nope. Probly couldn’t‘ve. Hey what’s yours?” he asked.

“George, George Fredrick.” I said reluctantly hoping that he wouldn’t want to start a pen pal club or something.

The old man waddled over and stuck out his hand. A small wave of guilt came over me but only a very small one. I put out my hand in return.

“Glad to meet ya George!” he yelled as he threw my arm up and down as if he were ringing a chickens neck.

‘Glad to meet you, Charlie.” I said hoping to end this soon, get an answer to how to get to McPhearson and be outa there.

“Now that we’re friends, let’s have that coffee!”

“OK.” I said, hoping that the glass pot broke or something so I could vamoose.

We went inside the building. Instead of the worn out couch, metal desk and tin foil covered TV, a table was set up in the middle of the room with a flowered tablecloth on top. Two light green coffee cups on matching saucers were placed at opposite sides. Napkins the same designs of the tablecloth were neatly folded and lay to the left of the cups. A silver set of creamer and sugar bowls was in the center of the table. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air drawing me in.

Charlie noticed the awe on my face.

“Only the best for my repeat customers!” he boasted.

“Charlie, you shouldn’t have.” I said half sarcastically.

“Aint nothin’, George! Have a seat!”

I sat down reluctantly by the chair closest to the door. Charlie sat, his face beaming with delight. He picked up the coffeepot and leaned towards me to pour. The coffee was dark and hot. Steam lifted off the surface curling its way up to my nose. It smelled wonderful! For an instant, I forgot about getting to the hotel on time. The aroma of the coffee was erasing all of my thoughts about where I was supposed to be at what time.

Charlie stared at me while I brought the cup to my lips. The taste was as incredible as the aroma.

“Very good, Charlie!” I exclaimed. “Where did you get this? It tastes great.”

“I’m glad you like it, George!” Charlie said with an approving smile. He looked like that Alexahente guy, you know, the guy who gives his blessings on the coffee beans. “OLE”, or whatever he says.

“I’m really, really glad you came back. I was gonna have a cup earlier but had a feelin’ that maybe I’d get a customer soon, so I waited ta make it. And then, you came! Ha! Been savin’ that coffee just for you it seems.”

“Its real good. So, uh, Charlie, how many customers do you get? It seems that you’re pretty out of the way here. Your toilet’s spotless. The pumps are ancient. And you set a table for coffee!”

“Oh, I get quite a followin’, George. You should see this place durin’ the day! They’s lined up down the road waitin’ to get gas and coffee! Thursdays are always a bit slow, ya know, so I was getting’ ready to close when you pulled up the first time.

“Oh” I said, not really believing him but if he liked to brag a little, I’d humor him for a while until I finished my coffee.

Charlie went on and on about everything from when he first started to work here to how he saved enough money to buy the place from “Old man Porter”. He still kept talking loudly and every once in awhile his voice would boom in excitement. He never frowned: always a big wide smile crossed his face from cheek to cheek. Even when he spoke of “Old man Porter” dying of cancer, Charlie just smiled away.

I was half through my third cup when I realized how long I’d been sitting there listening to Charlie. I needed to pee again.

“Charlie” I said, getting up from my chair. “I do have to go, in more ways than one. It’s been great talking to you but I’ve quite a ways to go yet and gotta get up early for work tomorrow.

Charlie lost his smile for the first time that night but said, “ OK, George, it was great talking to you too! Take a pee for the road! Ha, ha!”

“Thanks, Charlie.”

I went in the room where the toilet was and peed out more coffee than beer this time. After I flushed, I went to wash my hands in the sink. The soap was perfectly dry like it was never used before. “That’s strange”, I thought, “It should still be wet from the first time I came here, unless Charlie changes it every time he gets a new customer. I looked in the waste basket for an empty wrapper. Nothing there.

When I came out, I asked Charlie, “Charlie, do you change the soap right after somebody uses it?”

“Nothin’ but the best for my repeat customers!” he beamed.

“Charlie, one more thing before I go. How do I get back on 135 and stay there?”

“Hoot! You just go outta here and take a right down the road there. The ramp’s right there!” he said with a look on his face as if it was the easiest thing in the world to do.

“Well, thanks for the coffee and the pee.” I said as I put out my hand.

Charlie grabbed my hand with both of his and shook up and down like he was pumping water out of a well.

“Thanks for stoppin’ in! The pleasure was all mine! Next time you’re in the neighborhood you better stop by and say hello to Charlie!”

“I’m sure I will,” I said as I headed towards the car.

I got in and pulled out of the gas station and headed to the entrance ramp of Route 135 just as I had done earlier two times that night. I accelerated onto the highway, then settled down to the speed limit. I wasn’t relaxed yet, waiting to see the sign that read “Charlie’s”. It didn’t come. Exit 54 passed. Exit 63 passed. Was I going to make it out of Charlie Land?

About an hour and fifteen minutes later, the sign for McPhearson appeared. I pulled off the highway and turned right onto the road leading to town. Soon, not soon enough though, Dumont’s Hotel came up on the left. I pulled up at the lobby entrance.

“Good evening, sir “ the clerk said as I approached.

“Hi. Reservation for Frederick, please.”

“Yes. One king, nonsmoking. How was your trip tonight, Mr. Fredrick?” the clerk asked.

“Fine, except for a pretty darn mix up at exit 42. Had a real hard time getting back on the highway after I stopped for coffee.”

“Exit 42? On Rte 135?” the clerk asked.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fredrick, You must mean exit 32.” The clerk replied.

“No, I mean 42. The one where “Charlie’s” place is.” I said.

“Again, I’m sorry if your confused, sir, but they closed exit 42 twelve years ago. “Charlie’s” burnt to the ground and there was no reason to turn off the highway at that spot anymore. Heck, he never did get much business anyway. Seems the old guy was a bit of a loner. Never liked anyone.

I felt my heart skip a beat.

“You OK, sir?” the clerk asked. “You look extremely pale.”

“How did the place burn down? Do you know?” I asked.

“Not quite sure, but I think it had to do with an electrical fire. Something about a coffeepot or something like that. You sure you’re OK?”

“Yeah. I’m OK. It’s been a long day.” I lied.

“Here’s your room key, number 25, first floor, just down the hall on your right.”

“Thanks. Have a good night,” I said as I picked up my bags and walked towards the hall.

“You too, Mr. Fredrick!”

I put the key in the lock as I stared at the room number screwed onto the door. “25” Where did I see that before?” I asked myself.

The door opened easily and I groped to the right for the switch. The light came on. In the middle of the room was a small table with a green flowered cloth on it. A matching napkin was neatly folded next to a light green coffee cup. Steam was creeping out of a silver coffeepot, its aroma filling the air. Next to the cup was an envelope. On the front was the single word, George.

I opened it.

“Nothing but the best for our repeat customers” it read.


Sunday, April 15, 2007

The Whole Story

This blog is meant to become a library of sorts. It will house the entire story, novel, illustrated book, song or documentary of which you might have sampled on the "Art of Seeing" blog.

The skeleton in the photo is Henry. He's wanted to be more than the focus of my concentrated study and a good listener. Having been such a great companion I've decided to make him the librarian. As you can see, he's delighted that he now has a greater purpose in his eternity.