The Passing at Highway 10 – A Story – part 1.

I had to bury her beneath the turf on State Street. That new housing complex, you know? They never got around to finishing it. The turf there is so soft, so fresh, and green, and I had to put her body deep in that damn damp earth.

She used to wait the tables at Harvey’s, back when I was on the road for the freight company. Harvey’s was your typical road stop toilet; small, dingy, beer soaked tables, and a floor so sticky you’d think it was paved with chewing gum. The tables stank of dirty rags; mildewed rags that had been used to wipe the same pissy tables all day. The seats were crispy with peanut shells, shells from some dumb bastard that was too damn lazy to brush them off. The walls were covered with washed out, yellowed photos of wild and rowdy biker heroes from the old movies. I used to stare at those walls when I wasn’t staring into my drink. Daydreaming, really, of a life that I knew I’d never know. There was even an old jukebox up against the wall near the bathroom that seemed to always be playing love songs from the fifties. God, I hated those. And the bathrooms were a trip; trust me, you’d rather take a piss outside.
Sally worked the tables at Harvey’s, and was the only half way decent chick in the whole god forsaken place. I used to look for her when I stopped there between jobs. She would smile at me from time to time, and her dimples and long, straight hair would give me chills. I would stare at her and take long draws from my cigarettes, and wash my loneliness down with a long sip of booze. I used to get pretty boozed up until I met sally. She came up to me on a cold day in November; I was freezing my ass off, had just dropped off a load in Hogan, and was making the long trip back home. Sally was there that night as I hobbled in out of the cold and shuffled my way to my usual table in the back. Harvey’s was damn near empty that night, just a couple of other schmoes in there, all alone and staring at their drinks. She came up to me and asked me what i wanted to drink; I told her that I wanted a double whiskey and a beer.

Advertisements

One comment

  1. Paula

    Wow!! You totally set the mood – so descriptive with the ambiance of the diner – I wrinkled my nose because I smelled the funky smells! Great job!! It gave me a sense of what some truck stops are like.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s