Page 95 of The End of the World As We Know It
Unable to breathe, Tommy backed away in horror. He hadn’t even known that his mother was sick. They’d eaten dinner together the night before, and after doing the dishes, she’d curled up on the sofa to read a book. A couple of hours later, she’d paused at his bedroom door to say good night. He didn’t remember hearing her coughing, and she hadn’t complained at all. Not a word. He ran down the hallway into the kitchen to call his father. It would be two hours before he was able to reach him.
Despite the strange dreams and lack of sleep, Tommy was excited to get back to the water tower and see what his visitors were up to.Should I go over and introduce myself? Or should I keep my distance and remain hidden?He couldn’t decide. On the one hand, they looked harmless enough. On the other, he was all alone now and had to be more careful than ever.
By the time he got there and climbed the ladder to the platform, he had convinced himself that none of these questions mattered. The grassy rise would be empty, the strangers packed up and gone, withnothing so much as a scrap of litter left behind to show that they had once been there.
But he was wrong. The bright orange tent was still pitched on the upper hillside. The black Harley leaning to the side on its kickstand right where they’d left it.
His heart thumping, Tommy stretched out on his stomach and rested his chin in his hands, anxious for the man and woman to wake up.
He didn’t have to wait for long.
A few minutes later, the man crawled out of the tent and stood up to face the sun. He was buck naked.
“Holy shit,” Tommy whispered, suppressing a laugh.
Far below, the man appeared to turn and spit into the grass—and then he stood ramrod straight and burst into song.
“O say, can you see,
by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hailed
at the twilight’s last gleaming…”
“What the hell is he—”
“Whose broad stripes and bright stars,
through the perilous fight,
O’er the ramparts we watched,
were so gallantly streaming?”
And then all of a sudden Tommy understood. It was the Fourth of July! He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. After Christmas and Halloween, it was his favorite holiday. He stole a glance over his shoulder at Main Street and pictured what it had once looked like. Red, white, and blue bunting draped over the storefronts; banners hanging across the road; American flags and ribbons everywhere. The parade startedat two p.m., followed by the carnival in the park at three, and finally once it got dark, the big fireworks display. Tommy and his family used to sit on a blanket by the bandstand, eating ice cream sandwiches and watermelon slices until the sky lit up. Little kids ran around with sparklers. From the park, you could hear hooting and hollering and splashing coming from the pool. And for that one night each year, it felt like the entire town came out to celebrate.
“… and the home of the braaaave!”
The man finished singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” and Tommy glanced down just in time to see him snap a peppy salute in the direction of the tent. And then the man was crawling back inside, offering a perfect, sunlit view of his bare ass.
Now he’ll either go back to sleep for a while, Tommy thought,or they’ll both come out of the tent and, hey, maybe the woman will be naked, too. He peered over the edge of the platform again. Nothing stirred in the tent.Jesus, she’s old enough to be my mother, he scolded himself.
Before he could remind himself that he was only fifteen, and even in the midst of a plague-ridden world it was perfectly natural to think about naked women, even if they were a lot older than—
Far below, on the hillside, the man scrambled out of the tent on his knees and vomited into the grass. When there was nothing left to come up, he scuttled away like a crab in the sand, and placed his hands over his face. Tommy could hear him sobbing.Where’s the woman?he thought, returning his attention to the tent.What in the hell happened to the woman?
A short time later, he got his answer.
The naked man, no longer looking even a little bit cocky, struggled to his feet. He went to the woods and found a long stick. Then he slowly approached the tent, turned back the flap, and used the point of the stick to retrieve his clothes from inside.
“Jesus,” Tommy whispered.
The man sat in the grass and put them on. When he stood up again, he lifted the shirt to his nose and smelled it—and made an immediate beeline for the motorcycle. He started the engine and sped off toward downtown. A moment later, he turned onto Main Street and pulled over in front of the Bennington’s Men’s Shop. The front door was unlocked, so he went inside. In a matter of minutes, he was back on the sidewalk, wearing a different shirt and carrying a pile of new clothes in his arms. He stuffed them into one of the saddlebags on the back of the Harley, and got moving again. This time, due east along Highway 9, and with little regard for the speed limit. Tommy watched until the Harley disappeared. The man never so much as tapped his brakes.
TOMMY PARKER
ROADTRIP JOURNAL ENTRY #1
