them revving their engines. The whole scene reminded Bill of the movie with Marlon Brando, The Wild One, when Brando’s gang gets kicked out of town. Reaching into his jeans Bill took out his car keys.
“I’m gonna take off, thanks Eli,” Bill said.
“Take it easy dude, we’ll rap next week.”
Bill was half way down the street when he thought he heard his name being called. He imagined it was the pot before seeing Eli and Sam coming towards him.
“Hey man, can you drive Sam home for me?”
“Sure.”
“Are you cool with that doll?” Elis blue eyes were engaging, heartfelt and sincere.
“I’m cool,” Sam replied with a school girl grin.
“I love your Jeep,” Sam said opening the door and swinging her cocoa brown legs in.
“Thanks.”
“Do you remember how to get to my house?” she asked fastening her seatbelt before turning on the radio.
“Yeah, got it. Is everything OK?” Bill asked lowering the volume.
“Weird is more like it.”
“Weird how? Is that guy Hubble related to you or something?”
“God, no. That whole thing was my uncle’s way of getting me and my mom to move on.” Sam rolled down the window and let her hand swoop up and down with the air current.
“Move on, how so?” Bill asked making quick eye contact.
“Eight years ago the state of Massachusetts said Hubble was responsible for my father’s death, so they locked him up at Cedar Junction down in Walpole.” Sam leaned over, picked up the Nike shoe box and began digging through the cassettes.
“Hubble was driving my dad’s car the night they hit a telephone pole in Boston. He was drunk.”
Bill shook his head thinking how hard that must have been on Vanessa and Sam. “So, he only did eight years?”
“Yeah, I was always told ten to twelve, good behavior or something, whatever. I know it still bothers Eli, although he believes everybody deserves to be forgiven and given a second chance.”
“Was Eli close with his brother, your dad I mean?”
“Yeah, they were tight.” Sam pushed her hair away from her face as she continued looking through the shoebox.
“Hubble started calling our house after the accident. He calls maybe once a year. I think he knew he was getting out sooner. My mother says no. She also says he’s trying to make peace, I dunno. I’ve heard her on the phone with him, it’s strange.”
“Strange how?” Bill asked adjusting the rearview mirror.
“It’s like, he calls and says how sorry he is for what happened but then he asks questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Jeez, I dunno, just like these random questions.”
“Huh.”
“I know my mother really loved my dad, but the last two years he was alive I hardly ever saw him. I guess he was messed up badly on drugs. I just like, don’t know if I wanna be friends with the guy who killed my father.”
Bill could hear the conflict in her voice, accepting someone who killed her dad was a lot to overcome.
“Still, Eli says to forgive and forget. Hubble just seems creepy to me.”
“I didn’t really care for him either. So, are you also into motorcycles,” Bill asked trying to turn the conversation.
“I’m not sure if I’m into motorcycles, but boy I do love Eli’s Harley. He’s let me drive it a few times. We hang out a lot at his house, last year he restored it, he talked and I listened. To me that bike is more like a piece of cool vintage art. It’s got those shiny buckhorn-bars, that chrome-eyebrow-mount and all those beautifully integrated parts in the middle. Oh and that blue paint, just bitch’n.”
Taking an 8-track cartridge from the box Sam pushed Gordon Lightfoot’s Sundown into the player. She turned up the volume and started singing. Bill noticed her hips moving in the seat, her arms swaying back and forth, she was captivating .
Turning down Sam’s street Bill lowered the volume and pulled up to the curb. As Sam reached around and undid her seatbelt, he noticed
“I’m gonna take off, thanks Eli,” Bill said.
“Take it easy dude, we’ll rap next week.”
Bill was half way down the street when he thought he heard his name being called. He imagined it was the pot before seeing Eli and Sam coming towards him.
“Hey man, can you drive Sam home for me?”
“Sure.”
“Are you cool with that doll?” Elis blue eyes were engaging, heartfelt and sincere.
“I’m cool,” Sam replied with a school girl grin.
“I love your Jeep,” Sam said opening the door and swinging her cocoa brown legs in.
“Thanks.”
“Do you remember how to get to my house?” she asked fastening her seatbelt before turning on the radio.
“Yeah, got it. Is everything OK?” Bill asked lowering the volume.
“Weird is more like it.”
“Weird how? Is that guy Hubble related to you or something?”
“God, no. That whole thing was my uncle’s way of getting me and my mom to move on.” Sam rolled down the window and let her hand swoop up and down with the air current.
“Move on, how so?” Bill asked making quick eye contact.
“Eight years ago the state of Massachusetts said Hubble was responsible for my father’s death, so they locked him up at Cedar Junction down in Walpole.” Sam leaned over, picked up the Nike shoe box and began digging through the cassettes.
“Hubble was driving my dad’s car the night they hit a telephone pole in Boston. He was drunk.”
Bill shook his head thinking how hard that must have been on Vanessa and Sam. “So, he only did eight years?”
“Yeah, I was always told ten to twelve, good behavior or something, whatever. I know it still bothers Eli, although he believes everybody deserves to be forgiven and given a second chance.”
“Was Eli close with his brother, your dad I mean?”
“Yeah, they were tight.” Sam pushed her hair away from her face as she continued looking through the shoebox.
“Hubble started calling our house after the accident. He calls maybe once a year. I think he knew he was getting out sooner. My mother says no. She also says he’s trying to make peace, I dunno. I’ve heard her on the phone with him, it’s strange.”
“Strange how?” Bill asked adjusting the rearview mirror.
“It’s like, he calls and says how sorry he is for what happened but then he asks questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“Jeez, I dunno, just like these random questions.”
“Huh.”
“I know my mother really loved my dad, but the last two years he was alive I hardly ever saw him. I guess he was messed up badly on drugs. I just like, don’t know if I wanna be friends with the guy who killed my father.”
Bill could hear the conflict in her voice, accepting someone who killed her dad was a lot to overcome.
“Still, Eli says to forgive and forget. Hubble just seems creepy to me.”
“I didn’t really care for him either. So, are you also into motorcycles,” Bill asked trying to turn the conversation.
“I’m not sure if I’m into motorcycles, but boy I do love Eli’s Harley. He’s let me drive it a few times. We hang out a lot at his house, last year he restored it, he talked and I listened. To me that bike is more like a piece of cool vintage art. It’s got those shiny buckhorn-bars, that chrome-eyebrow-mount and all those beautifully integrated parts in the middle. Oh and that blue paint, just bitch’n.”
Taking an 8-track cartridge from the box Sam pushed Gordon Lightfoot’s Sundown into the player. She turned up the volume and started singing. Bill noticed her hips moving in the seat, her arms swaying back and forth, she was captivating .
Turning down Sam’s street Bill lowered the volume and pulled up to the curb. As Sam reached around and undid her seatbelt, he noticed
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