"This train is bound for glory, this train!" I shouted as the cars bumped over a crossing.
"This train is bound for glory, this train!"
A nasty bump in the rails sent a bounce through me and my belongings on top of the boxcar. The dirty gallon jug of water I've hauled all across this country shifted and began to slide off the roof. Reaching out, I grabbed onto the ragged twine tied around the neck of the jug and pulled it up. Placing it safely behind me, I rested my back on the jug, and laid my small canvas sack in my lap. All I had was in this tiny sack. A pocketknife, a few grimy harmonicas, and at the moment a couple of apples past their prime. From time to time, I was able to stow some spare food in it. My stomach grumbled quietly as I watched the last of the sun sink below the distant tree line.
'I'm going to have to get off on the next stop,' I thought, rubbing my stomach.
Twilight gradually settled in as we bumped along down the line. Craning my neck around, I looked eastward and saw dim lights in the distance. Coming up to a town. The train abruptly cut left, as we shifted onto a receiving stretch of rail. The ear splitting squeal of metal on metal sounded as the brakes gradually slowed the colossal snake of steel. Stepping up, I steadied myself before slinging the guitar over my back. Hauling up my canvas sack and jug of water, I slipped down the ladder on the side of the car, and jumped off. Bolting into some trees, I watched as the cars crept into a train yard. Bidding farewell to my carrier, I slunk back into the underbrush, and made my way for the closest road.
Crickets and cicadas heralded my march along a small road stretching through a pair of soybean fields. My dirty, worn boots padded my feet against the gravely pavement as I plodded along. Squinting ahead, I saw a strange figure on the road. After a few more moments, I realized it was someone on a bicycle. As they neared I saw it was a young girl, probably around my age, on a bicycle. The closer she got, the more I tried to not stare. She was pretty! When she got close to passing me, I looked up, and smiled as I waved. A wide grin greeted me as she waved with her hand on the handlebar, and she whipped by me. Gone.
'The pretty ones are always the ones going the other way,' I thought to myself with a sigh.
Continuing along, I became weary. I had gotten off too early. It was hard to judge sometimes how close a train yard was to any real civilization. It was definitely always way too risky to try riding the train straight into the yard. I'd been beaten too many times to repeat that mistake. Still, my feet were beginning to hurt, and it was getting dark. The last splashes of light on the western horizon were ebbing from view as lightning bugs began to ignite around me. A few minutes later, I heard the familiar sound of rolling rubber directly behind me.
"So where ya going?"
Jumping from surprise, I looked back to see the bicycle girl smiling brightly as she casually coasted behind me. A small, white plastic bag hung from the side of the handlebars. She had a nice smile.
"Nowhere in particular," I answered. My mind began to muddle as it raced nervously. "What about you?"
"I'm just heading back home. Had to get something at the store." She stepped off the bike and started pushing it next to her. "Where ya from?"
"Nowhere in particular," I said, smiling. She giggled and looked up at me with a grin in her eyes. Something about this girl... "Okay, you got me. I'm from down south, a little town in Tennessee that you've never heard of."
"Really? You don't have much of an accent."
"I grew up in a lot of places. I guess none of the accents ever really stuck."
"Or maybe they all combined into what you have now." She was funny.
"Yeah, maybe," I laughed.
"So seriously, where are you going?" she asked. She shifted to just one hand on the bike.
"Trying to find some food I guess. I'll be getting real hungry soon. And a dry place to sleep. Hopefully warm. Hopefully soft," I replied in a serious tone. My eyes settled onto the crummy pavement beneath my feet. After a few moments I looked up and back at her. She grinned briefly, and her eyes flashed. Even in the dim light I could tell they were a warm brown.
"Um, well," she began, "If you want, you can get something to eat at my house. I was just about to make something for dinner."
I didn't say anything immediately. I had been offered my fair share of free meals from people, pretty young girls or not. Most of the pretty young girl meals did not start well. More did not even start. I smiled quickly, and stopped.
"I don't really want to, uh... interfere with your family or anything."
"Oh, it's just me," she said with a cute smile. Her eyes darted around until they finally settled on me. "I live by myself."
"Oh. Well then, I guess I can't say no!"
About another mile down the road we came to where she lived. It was a small, white house nestled between two large fields of tall corn. There was no car in the weed-filled driveway. As my boots crunched on the white gravel, I looked at the overgrown yard.
"Don't mow much?"
"No, I don't really believe in it. I think it's dumb to keep cutting the grass, instead of just letting it grow. I think it's prettier that way."
I let a faint smile creep to my lips. I'd always begrudgingly held the same sentiment, when I was still at home and was asked to mow the yard. I looked down and noticed she wasn't wearing any shoes.
"You ride your bike barefoot?"
"Yeah, it feels better that way. It hurts a little, but I like the feeling of the air on my toes."
She opened the aged wooden door, and led her bike inside, the handlebars brushing against some of the chipping white paint. I stepped inside after her. The doorway led to a very small kitchen, the pale yellow walls lined by the entirety of a small stove and a sink. The dank kitchen opened into a small living room, which opened to three other rooms, doors ajar. A bathroom, and two bedrooms from the looks of it. Two bicycles leaned against the walls of the living room, old road bikes, much like the bike she was now laying against the wall. She spun around, and clapped her hands with an embarrassed giggle.
"Sorry, it's a little messy. You can put your stuff down on the couch if you want," she said, motioning to an old, lime green couch. I nodded, and placed my guitar and sack on the couch. Dropping my water jug on the floor next to the couch, I untied my boots, and stepped onto the dingy brown shag carpet.
"Man, talk about the seventies, huh," I joked.
"Yeah, I know it's awful." She smiled again. That smile was growing on me.
"It's fine, I like old stuff."
"Uh, you can shower if you'd like. It looks like it's been a while since your last bath."
"Yeah, there was a thunderstorm in Iowa a few days ago." It was a weak, short-lived storm, a swiftly moving line of rain that doused me from atop another boxcar. Can't say the top of a boxcar was my favorite place to be in a thunderstorm.
"Well, I'll start on the food then."
Stepping into the bathroom, the strangeness of the situation I found myself in finally hit me. An hour ago, I was walking along a lonely road with not a thought concerning another person in my head. Now, I was about to shower in a strange girl's bathroom as she cooked me dinner. A cute, strange girl of course. I peeled off my thinning tee-shirt, and the dirt-infused blue jeans. I just had to remember to keep my distance, no matter how adorable she seems. I had no intention of getting involved with any girl, not yet anyways.
The soothing water of a hot shower is always a welcomed experience. Sweat encased dirt ran down my legs, and swirled down the drain. I savored the opportunity, running my fingers through my greasy hair. A heated bath was hard to come by riding freight trains.
Turning off the water after an adequate cleansing, I drew the shower curtain back. Where my traveling clothes had lain on the floor were clean, neatly folded, unfamiliar clothes. Picking them up, I saw they were similar to what I had, but were clearly not mine. Slipping them on, I was surprised to find they fit. I walked out into the living room, drying off my hair, and trying to not look too awkward to my gracious host.
"I hope you don't mind, I slipped some clean clothes in while you were showering," she said, looking up from the stove.
"I didn't hear you come in. Thanks though," I said, adjusting the collar to the shirt. "I'm surprised you had clothes to fit me."
"You looked about the same size as my brother, and some of his old clothes were lying around."
"Convenient. So what's on the spit?"
"I hope you don't mind hamburgers."
"Sounds and smells a lot better than dumpster burgers." She made a face.
"You eat out of dumpsters?"
"You'd be surprised what super markets throw away. A lot of it is still good to eat," I explained. The look of growing disgust did not leave her face. "Can't say I've ever eaten meat out of a dumpster though."
"Well, this may not be the best meat, but it should be pretty good."
I walked over to the small dining table on the edge of the kitchen's linoleum and sat down. In a few moments the burgers were done, and I was able to once again enjoy hot, juicy meat. It tasted good, real good. We ate in silence, as I ravenously devoured the three small hamburgers, and downed the can of Coke she offered me. She slowly and somewhat timidly ate her meal, her eyes occasionally darting up to spy on me. When I finished, I excused myself and went to sit on the couch, letting the dinner settle. I looked around the small living room, noting the lack of any real decoration. My scanning eyes finally fell on an unassuming cabinet, set into the far corner of the room.
"What's that?" I asked, pointing.
"Oh, that's the record player. The vinyl's in the bottom. You can look through them if you want," she said between bites.
"You have a turntable? That's cool," I muttered as I got up and walked over to the cabinet. Opening the door, I pulled out a large stack of LPs. I didn't recognize the top few, but after a short while I uncovered a picture of a young man in a blue and pink jacket, staring up at me with folded sunglasses in his hand.
"Sweet! You have Highway 61 Revisited?" I exclaimed. I heard her laugh as she stood up from the table.
"Yeah, you like Dylan?"
"Heck yeah I do. It's been so long since I've heard him. Do you mind?" I asked, motioning to the turntable.
"Not at all, please do." She put the dishes into the small sink and turned on the water to wash them.
"Oh crap, I'm sorry. I'll get my dishes, it's not often I eat with others," I said quickly, standing up. I had been a poor guest!
"No it's fine, you're tired." I reluctantly sat back down, weary of my rudeness, but obeying none the less.
I slid the record onto the table, and turned it on. Carefully placing the needle on the edge, the hiss and crack of the grooves sounded as I went back to the couch and sat down. The kick drum hit, and the song began.
Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?
People’d call, say, “Beware doll, you’re bound to fall”
You thought they were all kiddin’ you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin’ out
Now you don’t talk so loud
Now you don’t seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal.
I closed my eyes as the music filled my mind, my head slightly nodding to the beat. I relished this stuff. Suddenly I felt the couch move, and opened my eyes as the girl sat down next to me. My heart rate quickened.
"So what's your name anyways?"
"My name's Lake. Lake Williams." Her eyes lit up.
"Oh my gosh, that is such a cool name! Lake? Was there a reason your parents gave you that name?" she asked excitedly.
"It's an old family name. My great grandfather's name was Lake, and his father's middle name was Lake. I guess when my mom found that out, she just had to name her first kid Lake."
"Wow, that is so cool. My name's Johanna. I guess my mom just liked it when I was born."
"Johanna?" I repeated the name and grinned. "I like it. Well, I'm glad to have met you Johanna. And thank you for the delicious meal." She smiled sheepishly.
"It's no problem. Thanks for eating it with me," she said quietly.
You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns
When they all come down and did tricks for you.
"So, seriously, what are you doing? Why were you just walking down the road?" she asked.
"Just trying to get into town." She eyed me with a growing smile.
"I think there's more to it than that. I've never seen you before, and I think I'd recognize a guitar carrying hobo."
"Whoa now! I'm not a hobo. Hobos travel for work!" I retorted jokingly. She laughed. I sat quietly for a few moments contemplating if I should tell her or not. Her smile slowly faded as her eyes studied me more intensely.
"Are you alright?" I asked. She laughed nervously.
I guess I should go for it.
"I rode a train into town, and hopped off right before it got into the trainyard," I explained. Her smile came back.
"Oh, I didn't know we still had passenger trains coming in." I stopped her with a wave of my hand.
"No, I rode a freight train in. Stowed away, on the roof. I guess you can call me a hobo if you want, but I honestly don't fall into the exact definition. I've been riding the rails across this country, back and forth, a few times now." She was silent.
"I just go from town to town, eating when I can, sleeping when I need to, drinking when I'm dry and seeing the countryside."
"Are you homeless?" I got this question a lot.
"Yes and no. I'm homeless in how I'm living my life, but I have a home to go back to. I think."
"You think?"
"I left home after a few years of college. I packed some clothes and food into a backpack and just walked down the street and away from it all. College pissed me off. My life was pissing me off. Something in me just said to go live my life the way I wanted to. And I did." She looked down at her hands for a while. I knew I had overwhelmed her. Not many were comfortable when they heard that. It shook them up.
How does it feel
How does it feel
To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?
I shifted my weight to get up, but I felt her hand fall on mine.
"I think it's really cool." I was a bit taken aback. Like I said, not many liked it when I told them that.
"What?"
"Doing what you want, taking charge of your life," she paused, "even when it's scary. I really respect that." She smiled. I didn't know what to say.
"Um, thanks. I wasn't really expecting that. A lot of people tell me I'm a fool when I tell them that."
"Ah, fuck 'em!" We both laughed.
"Sometimes I wish I could do that," she mumbled as she looked off into the distance, out the window. Her hand stayed on mine. I flexed the muscles in my hand.
"Not to be rude, but I'm really tired. I'd better head out to find a place to sleep." She looked back at me.
"You can sleep here! I'd be happy to let you sleep here, for as long as you'd like. Consider me your host." I grinned and nodded my head.
"Well, I thank you for that. That takes a load off my shoulders."
We talked a little bit more, and eventually just sat and listened to side one of the album to finish. The eerie "Ballad of a Thin Man" finished, and the needle hissed and cracked one last time before the turntable switched off. She gave me a light blanket and a pillow, and I stretched out on the couch. It was a comfortable change from boxcar roofs and damp wood. I drifted into sleep and dreamt that night. They were good dreams, but I can't remember what they were.
***
Late that night, a door creaked open and Johanna quietly padded out into the living room. She was wearing a faded blue night gown, which fluttered in the soft breeze from the open window. Stopping in front of Lake, she knelt down to her knees next to him and looked at his face in the sparse light. He had strong features. He seemed strong. She raised her hand to stroke his hair, but stopped. She remembered who she was, and who he was. Stepping up, she slipped back into her room just as quietly as she'd entered, and closed the door.
***
The sun was still drying the nightly dew from the grass and leaves when I slipped out the door of Johanna's house. I was wearing my old clothes, leaving her generous offerings neatly folded on the couch, next to the pillow and blanket. It was harder than I expected, walking down the white graveled driveway. A tremenduous tugging on my chest made each step more difficult than the last. It's not easy walking away from a smiling and laughing girl, especially one so... free-spirited. I could tell deep down my story of restlessness stirred her, made parts of her wake up and look around questioningly.
But I couldn't do that to her. This was a tough life, a road of hard traveling. She wouldn't like it after a day or so. Right?
Birds flitted from branch to branch in the small woods stretching alongside the road next to me. Their chirps brought life to the morning. Insects swarmed under the leaves, drifting around my face and landing on my head. I swatted as them as I stepped more quickly.
She'd miss her house.
"Where do you think you're going!"
I spun around to see Johanna speeding up to me on her bike. Stretching her left leg over the back wheel, she coasted up to me before hopping off the bike, skidding to a stop right in front of me. Breathing heavily she looked up at me with questions in her eyes.
"Why'd you leave?" she asked between breathes. My heart about split in half right there. Her eyes weighed heavily on me. I looked away.
"I, uh..." I searched for words I didn't really have. I closed my mouth, and just looked down at her.
"It's har--" I started.
"I want to come with you," she said. Something deep in me clicked open, a small bit of the weight lifting off my chest. It was a guilty relief.
"It's not easy. Vagrancy isn't exactly thought highly of among people," I explained. I had to let her know first. She had to know what she was getting into.
"I don't care. I want to come with you," she repeated, stepping forward. She reached out with her hand and placed it on my arm. "There's something different about you. I want to see what it is."
I stood quietly as my mind raced. It would be nice to have a companion, especially such a... likeable one. But it'd be twice as hard to hide, would take twice as much food and water. But, she can carry her own weight. If she couldn't take it, I'll make sure to get her back home. I owe her that much. We'll hoof it on foot at first, so we don't get too far away. It's rougher that way too. If she can take that, she'll be fine.
"You're going to have to wear shoes," I said with a smile. Her face ignited into her biggest grin yet, and she leapt forward, thrusting her arms out around my neck as she hugged me tightly.
She was warm.
Great story Brock! Couldn't stop reading it! Keep 'em coming!
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