Best of both worlds, that was the way I figured it, and on a fine morning like the present, I was happy to test myself against the distance.
The town had a name, of course. It was called Maryfield on the maps, but to everyone who lived outside it, it was simply “town.” Hell, most of the kids I’d gone to school with, even theones who lived in town, called it that, too. It was the core of our world, the place we went to see movies and buy baseball cards. In the same way New Yorkers of my acquaintance referred to “the City,” it was “town,” and that was all that need be said.
Mind you, my upbringing had not been entirely parochial. Father had made sure we traveled on occasion, and so I’d gotten to see beyond Maryfield’s borders. There had been plenty of long car rides; to Memphis, to Washington, to Atlanta and beyond. Lengthy drives and short visits were most of what I remembered, and being the envy of my classmates when I got back with souvenirs and stories. Those little tastes of life outside might have been the start of it, now that I thought on things. If I hadn’t had those moments, I might never have needed more. I might have stayed.
Such were the thoughts I had as I took long strides up the road toward town. It wasn’t paved out here, just hard-packed dirt with a thick coating of white gypsum gravel. The road surface didn’t change to pavement until you were just outside the limits of the town proper. Once you got onto the gravel, it rattled itself off the undercarriage of your car like bullets spat from an old gun. The gravel sent up dust, too. Get on that stretch of road and a gray cloud rose up behind you like a rooster tail. You could see a car coming a half mile away, easy, and on a clear day even farther.
I saw a cloud just like that boiling up in the distance now, a good ways off. “Carl,” I guessed out loud and kept on walking. The remnants of the mason jar lay scattered on the ground to my left. Embarrassed, I swept a few of the larger fragments off the road with my foot as I passed. Everything you do at night is still there come day, I told myself. It was a hard lesson, and one I’d often forgotten, but here was the truth of it sitting out in plain daylight.
The car coming down the road was closer now, though the dustobscured it beyond recognition. I made up my mind not to pay any heed to it, even if it was Carl coming out for some reason of his own. I’d just keep walking, and to prove my resolve, I edged over to the side of the road, as close to the drainage ditch as I dared.
Another dozen steps and I could hear the sound of tires on gravel and a tired engine growling. It was Carl all right, hunched over his wheel and looking upset. I smiled and waved, and he scowled harder.
The truck skidded to a stop right in front of me, so close that a shower of stones bounced off the tips of my shoes. I could see Carl work hard at rolling down his window as I stepped to the side and prepared to walk on past.
“Get in,” he said, and coughed from the dust in the air.
“You’re headed the other way,” I said brightly. “I’m walking into town, and I wouldn’t want to put you out. So I thank you for the offer, but I feel I must decline.” I even raised a finger to my brow in imitation of a salute.
“I’m going back into town,” he replied. He swung his door open to block my way. “I’ll take you.”
I poked my head through the open window. “But you just came out here. I wouldn’t want to take you away from whatever business brought you out this way, Carl. So again I thank you, and I’ll get moving now.” I sidestepped around the door, making sure not to step in Old Man Tolliver’s drainage ditch, and then I started moving again.
Footsteps crunched on gravel behind me, and a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around, half under my own power. “You’ll get in the truck,” Carl said, “and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I frowned at the hand he still had
The town had a name, of course. It was called Maryfield on the maps, but to everyone who lived outside it, it was simply “town.” Hell, most of the kids I’d gone to school with, even theones who lived in town, called it that, too. It was the core of our world, the place we went to see movies and buy baseball cards. In the same way New Yorkers of my acquaintance referred to “the City,” it was “town,” and that was all that need be said.
Mind you, my upbringing had not been entirely parochial. Father had made sure we traveled on occasion, and so I’d gotten to see beyond Maryfield’s borders. There had been plenty of long car rides; to Memphis, to Washington, to Atlanta and beyond. Lengthy drives and short visits were most of what I remembered, and being the envy of my classmates when I got back with souvenirs and stories. Those little tastes of life outside might have been the start of it, now that I thought on things. If I hadn’t had those moments, I might never have needed more. I might have stayed.
Such were the thoughts I had as I took long strides up the road toward town. It wasn’t paved out here, just hard-packed dirt with a thick coating of white gypsum gravel. The road surface didn’t change to pavement until you were just outside the limits of the town proper. Once you got onto the gravel, it rattled itself off the undercarriage of your car like bullets spat from an old gun. The gravel sent up dust, too. Get on that stretch of road and a gray cloud rose up behind you like a rooster tail. You could see a car coming a half mile away, easy, and on a clear day even farther.
I saw a cloud just like that boiling up in the distance now, a good ways off. “Carl,” I guessed out loud and kept on walking. The remnants of the mason jar lay scattered on the ground to my left. Embarrassed, I swept a few of the larger fragments off the road with my foot as I passed. Everything you do at night is still there come day, I told myself. It was a hard lesson, and one I’d often forgotten, but here was the truth of it sitting out in plain daylight.
The car coming down the road was closer now, though the dustobscured it beyond recognition. I made up my mind not to pay any heed to it, even if it was Carl coming out for some reason of his own. I’d just keep walking, and to prove my resolve, I edged over to the side of the road, as close to the drainage ditch as I dared.
Another dozen steps and I could hear the sound of tires on gravel and a tired engine growling. It was Carl all right, hunched over his wheel and looking upset. I smiled and waved, and he scowled harder.
The truck skidded to a stop right in front of me, so close that a shower of stones bounced off the tips of my shoes. I could see Carl work hard at rolling down his window as I stepped to the side and prepared to walk on past.
“Get in,” he said, and coughed from the dust in the air.
“You’re headed the other way,” I said brightly. “I’m walking into town, and I wouldn’t want to put you out. So I thank you for the offer, but I feel I must decline.” I even raised a finger to my brow in imitation of a salute.
“I’m going back into town,” he replied. He swung his door open to block my way. “I’ll take you.”
I poked my head through the open window. “But you just came out here. I wouldn’t want to take you away from whatever business brought you out this way, Carl. So again I thank you, and I’ll get moving now.” I sidestepped around the door, making sure not to step in Old Man Tolliver’s drainage ditch, and then I started moving again.
Footsteps crunched on gravel behind me, and a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I spun around, half under my own power. “You’ll get in the truck,” Carl said, “and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
I frowned at the hand he still had
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