The Junction by Robert N Stephenson
them over, I can’t see for shit.”
“Glasses,” John said an obvious break from his moroseness. “You feelin’ alright?”
“Just give them over and enough with the jawin’. This is a new life we’re heading into so I’m going to start out doing new things.” He snatched the glasses from Hank and slid them on, the dark lenses creating immediate relief and the question of why he didn’t just do this after Noon and be done with it? He thought of a tune his mother would sing to him when he was a child to drown out the abuse his father would have hurled his way. It was just enough to distract him from his own stupidity and thinking about stars and angles felt right for the moment.
“Now you’re talkin’.” Hank reached behind him and into his discarded denim jacket and pulled out a pair of star shaped glasses and put them on with a huge grin. “Been wanting to wear these ever since we cut town.”
“They don’t look right.” John said, eyeing both of them with a stern frown. “They look girly, Hank, maybe you mixed them up with a Halloween costume?”
Given they were all wearing blue denims and badly worn boots Barry did think the star glasses were a bit much but he knew what was happening and he was not about to get in the way of his friend’s new sense of freedom. ‘Freedom is a place where you can be yourself at all times and where others can be themselves around you,’ his mother had said when he had be put in jail overnight for underage drinking. Now he was twenty three the act of getting drunk all the time didn’t seem so relevant. He checked the fuel gauge and saw he was low, so he reached down and flicked the exchange switch that brought the 50 gallon long distance tank on line. The tank took up a quarter of the trucks extra-long tray space and was pretty heavy when full but given the long range it gave him it was the best addition to the truck he’d ever done. ‘Waste of good steel,’ his father had said before slapping across the back of the head. ‘Where you ever goin’ to go to need that much fuel, you fool?’ Barry had wanted to punch him that day, really knock him down and tell him to go to hell, but he didn’t and the memory of that day still tightened in his gut.
Not having to squint through the windshield any more help alleviate the pain in his head and remove some of his annoyance at getting sore wrists; it would only be an hour until they reached the junction, then he’d rest properly and he would make the most difficult decision of his life; left or right? He didn’t really care if he went to the coast or to the city just so long as he wasn’t where his father was and the prejudices and judgements of small town life couldn’t touch him. Barry wondered what it would be like. How would it feel to be anonymous and unknown without a single person with a vested interest in you within hundreds of miles; thousands of miles? He checked the speedometer and sighed; even after moat of the day travelling on rough roads and side tracks they had only covered one hundred and eighteen miles, and given the strain on his wrists and the ache in his backside it felt like two thousand. You really couldn’t get much speed on back tracks. Hank was mumbling about music and John seemed to be far away with that vacant look he got when he was some place he really didn’t want to be. The junction would be a reckoning of sorts, the coming together of all their dreams and aspirations while they emptied the cool box and drained the last drops from the whisky bottle. Would Jack really have the last say in the end? Or would everything be decided before hand? Barry thought the latter.
“Sun’s near done,” John said, a statement of fact they all knew.
“Junctions about a couple a miles round this next bend,” Hank offered. Barry looked to Hank, who shrugged. “Took the trip once before, never quite had the guts to get on the bus.”
It was a big deal leaving town, breaking away from everything you have known, even if it did contain all the mess that drove you crazy. Barry figured the decision would be tougher on Hank, as he was not only saying goodbye to the old country way, but saying hello to something he might not fully understand in himself yet. At least Barry knew something of what he wanted from his freedom; a job where he didn’t smell like cow shit and dirt, a better car which wasn’t a yokel truck that drank gas faster than his father could down a can, and a decent woman. He’d thought about the decent woman thing for bit long and hard, maybe too long as it stopped him from dating either of the Jackoby twins, who made it very clear he was indeed on their radar, and going to the county prom because he refused to go with Gilly, the prettiest and most popular girl in school. ‘Damn fool,’ his father had said smacking him across the side of the head. ‘A man’d think his son’s a pussy.’
The junction was coming up and the sun still had some time to get to the horizon. The land was flat in parts and rugged in others. Maybe John would find solace in the long shadows of evening, maybe not. Barry pulled over, turning the truck so they faced back down the road towards home. Hank said nothing and John grunted one of his couldn’t be bothered expressions he was well known for in the hardware store. None of them spoke as they climbed from the truck. Barry stretched out the kinks in his back and stomped his feet a few times to get feeling back in his legs. John walked to the back of the truck, flipped off the cover restraints over the back and dropped the tailgate. In the back were a mattress and a roll of blankets. There were a number of fathers in town who thought their daughters were destined for that mattress and while Barry didn’t entertain such things he didn’t really go out of his way to dispel any of the town talk. For what it was worth, it actually helped to keep girls away and in the end made it easier to pack up and leave. As he watched Hank staring off into the distance he thought of what he really wanted in a woman, the very thing he could never get from town. A woman who wouldn’t take any of his surly shit and who just might know a bit more about life other than cooking shows, horses and cows. For the last two years he’d tried convincing himself there was nothing wrong with that kind of life, only it failed every time his father balled his fists and started punctuating his anger.
“Wanna beer?” John handed him a Millers, something his father also frowned on. ‘Coors was the beer of all Americans. None of this Millers shit.’
“Hank, get on over here, we have some jaw’n to get on with.” He sipped the Millers, enjoying the cold crisp taste. Unlike Coors the beer actually had body, it tasted like a beer should.
Hank took an offered beer, twisted off the top and took a very long, thirsty pull. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve then belched; something Barry had never heard him do before. “So, this is it?” Hank took another sip before looking at Barry and John. “We’re really gonna do it?”
“I never had doubts.” Barry sipped and let the beer sooth his dusty throat. “Just needed to decide which way for me.”
They sat talking for hours, hovering over old tales as children together to things they were supposed to be doing for work next week, which they knew someone else would have to do. John said little in the end. He drank slowly and peeled the labels of his beers. Hank travelled the memories of pain and except for their friendship he didn’t seem to have much good to say about town, even though he had run his business cutting hair successfully for the last 5 years. They lingered on the fact that unlike many of their friends they didn’t head off to college and while the talk softened under the weight of consideration and what ifs they brightened again at the prospect of a new future on their own. New beginnings, Hank had toasted more than once, his smile growing wider with each clink of their bottles. The sun was dipping and the cooler, well stocked was now showing the open necks of empties. They all took one of the last beers and looked at the depleted stocks. They day was nearing its end and already they had hit the drink hard.
John stood in the coming darkness his beer unopened and his face sad, the pinkish glow of the sky washing him in light and showing something Barry suspected all along.
“I’m not going.” John sat on the tailgate. He twisted off the bottle cap and drank from his beer. “Sorry guys, but I can’t.”
“Becky doesn’t want you, John,” Hank said, the frustration from the drive finally
showing through his tone of voice. “She will never want you.”
“Hank,” Barry said, putting out his hand and grabbing Hank by the arm.
“Shit, I know that,” John said, trying the peel off yet another label. “She was only ever a bit of a fantasy. You said it yourself; I can’t even be one of those Christian folk.”
“Then why?” Hank couldn’t hide the disappointment.
John sipped at his beer, the dark falling across his face coming with the deeper hues of coming night. He was a young man like them all, but was he somehow approaching his own twilight? He sighed, took another swig and offered a dull, straight lipped smile. Barry had expected as much and had, in a way, prepared for it though most of what he prepared for was still a guess and hope. He approached John, stuck out his hand in friendship. John reached out his right and clasped Barry’s, they shook on the decision and all was right between then, whatever his reason Barry knew he had to respect it.
John looked to Hank, his eyes now dark orbs in the brightening moonlight. “I like the town, Hank, I like the people, hell; I even like Old man Fisher and his yapping dogs.”
“But what about our plans?”
“Glasses,” John said an obvious break from his moroseness. “You feelin’ alright?”
“Just give them over and enough with the jawin’. This is a new life we’re heading into so I’m going to start out doing new things.” He snatched the glasses from Hank and slid them on, the dark lenses creating immediate relief and the question of why he didn’t just do this after Noon and be done with it? He thought of a tune his mother would sing to him when he was a child to drown out the abuse his father would have hurled his way. It was just enough to distract him from his own stupidity and thinking about stars and angles felt right for the moment.
“Now you’re talkin’.” Hank reached behind him and into his discarded denim jacket and pulled out a pair of star shaped glasses and put them on with a huge grin. “Been wanting to wear these ever since we cut town.”
“They don’t look right.” John said, eyeing both of them with a stern frown. “They look girly, Hank, maybe you mixed them up with a Halloween costume?”
Given they were all wearing blue denims and badly worn boots Barry did think the star glasses were a bit much but he knew what was happening and he was not about to get in the way of his friend’s new sense of freedom. ‘Freedom is a place where you can be yourself at all times and where others can be themselves around you,’ his mother had said when he had be put in jail overnight for underage drinking. Now he was twenty three the act of getting drunk all the time didn’t seem so relevant. He checked the fuel gauge and saw he was low, so he reached down and flicked the exchange switch that brought the 50 gallon long distance tank on line. The tank took up a quarter of the trucks extra-long tray space and was pretty heavy when full but given the long range it gave him it was the best addition to the truck he’d ever done. ‘Waste of good steel,’ his father had said before slapping across the back of the head. ‘Where you ever goin’ to go to need that much fuel, you fool?’ Barry had wanted to punch him that day, really knock him down and tell him to go to hell, but he didn’t and the memory of that day still tightened in his gut.
Not having to squint through the windshield any more help alleviate the pain in his head and remove some of his annoyance at getting sore wrists; it would only be an hour until they reached the junction, then he’d rest properly and he would make the most difficult decision of his life; left or right? He didn’t really care if he went to the coast or to the city just so long as he wasn’t where his father was and the prejudices and judgements of small town life couldn’t touch him. Barry wondered what it would be like. How would it feel to be anonymous and unknown without a single person with a vested interest in you within hundreds of miles; thousands of miles? He checked the speedometer and sighed; even after moat of the day travelling on rough roads and side tracks they had only covered one hundred and eighteen miles, and given the strain on his wrists and the ache in his backside it felt like two thousand. You really couldn’t get much speed on back tracks. Hank was mumbling about music and John seemed to be far away with that vacant look he got when he was some place he really didn’t want to be. The junction would be a reckoning of sorts, the coming together of all their dreams and aspirations while they emptied the cool box and drained the last drops from the whisky bottle. Would Jack really have the last say in the end? Or would everything be decided before hand? Barry thought the latter.
“Sun’s near done,” John said, a statement of fact they all knew.
“Junctions about a couple a miles round this next bend,” Hank offered. Barry looked to Hank, who shrugged. “Took the trip once before, never quite had the guts to get on the bus.”
It was a big deal leaving town, breaking away from everything you have known, even if it did contain all the mess that drove you crazy. Barry figured the decision would be tougher on Hank, as he was not only saying goodbye to the old country way, but saying hello to something he might not fully understand in himself yet. At least Barry knew something of what he wanted from his freedom; a job where he didn’t smell like cow shit and dirt, a better car which wasn’t a yokel truck that drank gas faster than his father could down a can, and a decent woman. He’d thought about the decent woman thing for bit long and hard, maybe too long as it stopped him from dating either of the Jackoby twins, who made it very clear he was indeed on their radar, and going to the county prom because he refused to go with Gilly, the prettiest and most popular girl in school. ‘Damn fool,’ his father had said smacking him across the side of the head. ‘A man’d think his son’s a pussy.’
The junction was coming up and the sun still had some time to get to the horizon. The land was flat in parts and rugged in others. Maybe John would find solace in the long shadows of evening, maybe not. Barry pulled over, turning the truck so they faced back down the road towards home. Hank said nothing and John grunted one of his couldn’t be bothered expressions he was well known for in the hardware store. None of them spoke as they climbed from the truck. Barry stretched out the kinks in his back and stomped his feet a few times to get feeling back in his legs. John walked to the back of the truck, flipped off the cover restraints over the back and dropped the tailgate. In the back were a mattress and a roll of blankets. There were a number of fathers in town who thought their daughters were destined for that mattress and while Barry didn’t entertain such things he didn’t really go out of his way to dispel any of the town talk. For what it was worth, it actually helped to keep girls away and in the end made it easier to pack up and leave. As he watched Hank staring off into the distance he thought of what he really wanted in a woman, the very thing he could never get from town. A woman who wouldn’t take any of his surly shit and who just might know a bit more about life other than cooking shows, horses and cows. For the last two years he’d tried convincing himself there was nothing wrong with that kind of life, only it failed every time his father balled his fists and started punctuating his anger.
“Wanna beer?” John handed him a Millers, something his father also frowned on. ‘Coors was the beer of all Americans. None of this Millers shit.’
“Hank, get on over here, we have some jaw’n to get on with.” He sipped the Millers, enjoying the cold crisp taste. Unlike Coors the beer actually had body, it tasted like a beer should.
Hank took an offered beer, twisted off the top and took a very long, thirsty pull. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve then belched; something Barry had never heard him do before. “So, this is it?” Hank took another sip before looking at Barry and John. “We’re really gonna do it?”
“I never had doubts.” Barry sipped and let the beer sooth his dusty throat. “Just needed to decide which way for me.”
They sat talking for hours, hovering over old tales as children together to things they were supposed to be doing for work next week, which they knew someone else would have to do. John said little in the end. He drank slowly and peeled the labels of his beers. Hank travelled the memories of pain and except for their friendship he didn’t seem to have much good to say about town, even though he had run his business cutting hair successfully for the last 5 years. They lingered on the fact that unlike many of their friends they didn’t head off to college and while the talk softened under the weight of consideration and what ifs they brightened again at the prospect of a new future on their own. New beginnings, Hank had toasted more than once, his smile growing wider with each clink of their bottles. The sun was dipping and the cooler, well stocked was now showing the open necks of empties. They all took one of the last beers and looked at the depleted stocks. They day was nearing its end and already they had hit the drink hard.
John stood in the coming darkness his beer unopened and his face sad, the pinkish glow of the sky washing him in light and showing something Barry suspected all along.
“I’m not going.” John sat on the tailgate. He twisted off the bottle cap and drank from his beer. “Sorry guys, but I can’t.”
“Becky doesn’t want you, John,” Hank said, the frustration from the drive finally
“Hank,” Barry said, putting out his hand and grabbing Hank by the arm.
“Shit, I know that,” John said, trying the peel off yet another label. “She was only ever a bit of a fantasy. You said it yourself; I can’t even be one of those Christian folk.”
“Then why?” Hank couldn’t hide the disappointment.
John sipped at his beer, the dark falling across his face coming with the deeper hues of coming night. He was a young man like them all, but was he somehow approaching his own twilight? He sighed, took another swig and offered a dull, straight lipped smile. Barry had expected as much and had, in a way, prepared for it though most of what he prepared for was still a guess and hope. He approached John, stuck out his hand in friendship. John reached out his right and clasped Barry’s, they shook on the decision and all was right between then, whatever his reason Barry knew he had to respect it.
John looked to Hank, his eyes now dark orbs in the brightening moonlight. “I like the town, Hank, I like the people, hell; I even like Old man Fisher and his yapping dogs.”
“But what about our plans?”