Kuunari

This short story was originally written in 2008.

The car coughed once, and fell silent on the side of I-90. The sign for Painesville, OH, loomed ahead, promising at least a 30 minute walk to get to a gas station. The sun shone down, showing no sign of lessening as it approached the far horizon. Most of the grass on the side of the road had browned two weeks prior.

Dean popped the trunk, ripped one of the cardboard boxes leaves off, and taking a marker, wrote “not abandoned” and propped it in the back window. He took a small knapsack from the backseat, and began filling it with an odd assortment of clothes and toiletries. Throwing it over his shoulder, he set off towards town, a whistle almost forming on his lips.

Under 90, he stood on the west side of route 44, and stuck his thumb in the air. A cool wind followed the cars under the highway. His shirt tucked into his khaki pants, his tightly cropped hair, the slight smile on his lips meant that he didn’t wait long until a car stopped. A rusting honda, the girl at the wheel waved him over to the passenger side window.

“Where you headed?” Anisette asked, obviously excited by the possibility of actually picking up a hitch hiker for the first time, but trying to act as she thinks she’s supposed to.

“Burton for the time being. Got some family there.” She nodded and motioned him to get into the car.

“I’m headed to Middlefield to meet my fiance,” she told him as he climbed into the front seat. Fiance was stressed to make clear her intentions in picking him up,to stress that she was only picking him up as her good deed of the day, or week, or whatever. Fiance carried with it the image of a former high school football player who never made a name for himself outside of the small town he grew up in. She put the car in drive, and slide the car back onto route 44. He watched the highway pull away in the side mirror, letting his arm hang out the window, and allowed his thoughts drift. He was only partially listening to her as she told him about her fiance so he almost missed it when she turned the conversation to him.

“You’re not crazy or anything?” She asked, pretending that the question was a joke, but looking for reassurance. He paused, thinking of the best way to respond.

“No. At least not that I know of,” he smiled into the wind, the joke disarming the conversation.

“Why are you hitchhiking?” She asked, exhaling slowly. She felt herself waiting for his reply. Ever since he had entered the car, she had found her eyes drawn to him, his casual manner, his piercing blue eyes.

“My car broke down on the interstate.” The pauses between his replies added to the mystique that she could feel building up around him.

“Where were you headed?”

“Minneapolis.”

“Long drive.”

“Yeah, well, I love the open road. I was almost thinking about not stopping.”

“In Minneapolis?”

“Yeah.”

The sun finally slipped behind the western hills as they pulled up to his relatives small 3 room house.

“thanks for the ride,” he said, then threw the knapsack over his shoulder, and began walking up the stone steps to the burnt red front door. Then he turned and called back. “By the way, my name’s Dean,” he waved.