Christy: A Journey Tale by Michael Thomas Cunningham Page B

to this point it didn’t
appear to be happy tale. They were a microcosm of her life; abused,
worried, and older far beyond their years. Jennifer caught a glance
at her own hands for comparison. Manicured nails and smooth
moisturized skin told a very different story. What does this say
about me? Nothing, she mused. Most would probably say she has a
good life, and might even go as far as to say that it was easy, but
those people only look at the surface. Her marriage, friends, and
yes, even money were problems that affected her just as deeply as
anyone else. In fact, it was probably worse in her case because she
had so much more to lose. The thought stopped her cold as she
listened to herself. She could feel the hypocrisy. Maybe those
hands were just her reaction to a desperate, mad world. It doesn’t
mean anything. What makes a person the way they are…choices,
nature/nurture, or something else? It has to be more than that.
There are too many intangibles for it to be wrapped up so neat and
tidy. If their situations or their circumstances were reversed,
would she fair much better? Maybe in the grand scheme of things,
this woman could have been something amazing. The terror of their
initial encounter and the emotional drain had taken its toll on
Jennifer. Now that her adrenaline was beginning to wane she began
to feel herself shrink into a deep sadness. She focused unblinking
at her own hands on the steering wheel. They were a lie, and she
looked at them as if they were not her own. They certainly got the
best. She pampered them with professionals, indulged them in
pharmacology, and dressed them for show, but that’s all they were;
for show just like the rest of her. Her whole life was a show, and
the shallowness of it made her sick. She looked at the woman beside
her, and what she saw was someone who looked exactly the way she
felt.
    She let that thought sink in for a moment and
she felt a connection that had not been there before. She had been
terribly quick to judge and that bothered her now almost to the
point of overcorrecting to the other side of the spectrum. The fact
is it seemed clear now this woman knew her father. Her words about
him repeated themselves through her mind. It was true he didn’t
talk much about what happened on the road, and she always figured
it was because it was boring and there wasn’t anything to tell. Now
it seems he had his own reasons, and that idea intrigued Jennifer
to no end. Who had he met out there on those thousands of miles he
had traveled? Jennifer had to know everything, every single detail.
The anxious tension made her shift in her seat, which brought her
crashing back to reality as she noticed the woman sitting beside
her; looking at her; with the door closed.
    “Oh I’m sorry…I must have zoned out for a
moment.” Jennifer said a little embarrassed, as she had no idea how
long she had been sitting there waiting on her to come out of
it.
    “That’s alright,” she said with a warm smile.
“My names Christy,” the woman said as she held out her hand.
    “I’m Jennifer,” she said, taken aback by the
gesture. It seemed odd to her and it took a moment for her to
react, but when she did she shook the woman’s hand firmly the way
she had always been told. It was interesting but awkward in the
confines of the car. However, not as awkward as the pregnant and
some what painful pause that came after. It was Jennifer’s car. It
was her dime, so Christy decided it was up to Jennifer to make the
first move. She on the other hand kept waiting for Christy to say
something, anything, but all she did was just sit there and stare
at her. Finally, when the silence became too painful Jennifer just
blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
    “I’m starved. Are you hungry? I’m hungry. I
haven’t had anything all day,” she said, as it sounded absolutely
ridiculous to her own ears.
    “Me too,” she said with a grin.
    “Great. Why don’t we go out some place, and
you tell