been 35 or 55. It didn’t matter; Athens was nothing to me. It was just something I noticed the way a traveler notices signs on the road and ignores them at home. My fascination with the road, if it had ever existed, was worn thin. I wanted badly to get on with it, to get where I was going, and, most of all at the moment, to get out of this goddamn rain. There was a long straight stretch, and as I made the bend I saw a light bobbing at the side of the road. It was a flashlight. The person who carried it began to swing it in a wide arc, as though trying to flag me down. Nice try, but I had no intention of stopping. As I drove past I heard a cry for help. There was no question about it; the voice was female. For an instant my foot hovered between the gas and brake; then I touched the brake and brought the car to a stop.
I was fully a hundred yards past her, and in the rear-view mirror I could see her light bobbing as she ran to catch up. I backed the car toward her; in a moment we met and she was peering in through my steamy window. She pulled open the door.
“You going to Athens?”
She was young. Even in the dim light I could see that clearly. Her face was smooth and the features delicate. A small curl of black hair dropped from under the hood she wore and a stream of water dripped off her hair and ran down her cheek.
Thunder rolled and I shouted over it: “I don’t know; is that on this road?”
“Yes, it’s straight ahead.”
“Then I’ll pass through it.”
“Can you take me there?”
“Get in.”
She almost fell into the seat beside me. The hood dropped away, revealing a thick growth of black hair, which now fell down over her shoulders. She was breathing hard, and for a minute neither of us said anything. I got the car going, and when her breath came easier she said, “Sorry about all the water. God, I was afraid you weren’t going to stop.”
“I usually don’t pick up hitchhikers at four o’clock in the morning. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one. You seemed to be in trouble.”
“No trouble; not now. I just had to get away from here.”
“What’s the rush?”
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I guess you’ve got to know that.”
“Only if you’ve just robbed a gas station. Look, as long as it’s legal, what you do is your own business.”
“Okay. Can I get these wet things off first?”
“Sure. Put your coat under the heater; that’ll help dry it out.”
I didn’t push her. For a time she arranged her coat, hood, scarf, and sweater under the heater, then sat back and stared blankly at the dark road. She seemed to have lost any inclination she might have had to tell me about herself, so I figured what the hell, she would soon be gone anyway. She spread out the sweater more evenly, shivered, then hugged herself for warmth, even though the heater was up full and the blouse she wore seemed fairly dry. When I had given up hope of getting conversation of any kind from her, she half turned on the seat and said, “Thanks for stopping.”
I nodded. “You’re going to…Athens, did you say?”
“That’ll do. At least till I get a job and make some money to get me back to California.”
“That your home?”
“I can get by there. I’ve got friends.”
A long time passed before either of us spoke again. She was not going to tell me her life story and that was just as well. We were getting close to Athens now; there were some houses and lights and a gas station, a grocery and more houses. I looked over at her, but she was staring out at the rain-spattered darkness.
“Anywhere in particular?” I said.
“No.” She sighed. “One place is as good as another, I guess.” She turned and smiled a sad, strained smile. “Are you going on?”
“Yes.”
“Far?”
“I’m not sure. I’m on vacation; just driving to see the country. But yes, I’ll be on Route Fifty for a while yet.”
“Any chance you’d take me to
I was fully a hundred yards past her, and in the rear-view mirror I could see her light bobbing as she ran to catch up. I backed the car toward her; in a moment we met and she was peering in through my steamy window. She pulled open the door.
“You going to Athens?”
She was young. Even in the dim light I could see that clearly. Her face was smooth and the features delicate. A small curl of black hair dropped from under the hood she wore and a stream of water dripped off her hair and ran down her cheek.
Thunder rolled and I shouted over it: “I don’t know; is that on this road?”
“Yes, it’s straight ahead.”
“Then I’ll pass through it.”
“Can you take me there?”
“Get in.”
She almost fell into the seat beside me. The hood dropped away, revealing a thick growth of black hair, which now fell down over her shoulders. She was breathing hard, and for a minute neither of us said anything. I got the car going, and when her breath came easier she said, “Sorry about all the water. God, I was afraid you weren’t going to stop.”
“I usually don’t pick up hitchhikers at four o’clock in the morning. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen one. You seemed to be in trouble.”
“No trouble; not now. I just had to get away from here.”
“What’s the rush?”
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “I guess you’ve got to know that.”
“Only if you’ve just robbed a gas station. Look, as long as it’s legal, what you do is your own business.”
“Okay. Can I get these wet things off first?”
“Sure. Put your coat under the heater; that’ll help dry it out.”
I didn’t push her. For a time she arranged her coat, hood, scarf, and sweater under the heater, then sat back and stared blankly at the dark road. She seemed to have lost any inclination she might have had to tell me about herself, so I figured what the hell, she would soon be gone anyway. She spread out the sweater more evenly, shivered, then hugged herself for warmth, even though the heater was up full and the blouse she wore seemed fairly dry. When I had given up hope of getting conversation of any kind from her, she half turned on the seat and said, “Thanks for stopping.”
I nodded. “You’re going to…Athens, did you say?”
“That’ll do. At least till I get a job and make some money to get me back to California.”
“That your home?”
“I can get by there. I’ve got friends.”
A long time passed before either of us spoke again. She was not going to tell me her life story and that was just as well. We were getting close to Athens now; there were some houses and lights and a gas station, a grocery and more houses. I looked over at her, but she was staring out at the rain-spattered darkness.
“Anywhere in particular?” I said.
“No.” She sighed. “One place is as good as another, I guess.” She turned and smiled a sad, strained smile. “Are you going on?”
“Yes.”
“Far?”
“I’m not sure. I’m on vacation; just driving to see the country. But yes, I’ll be on Route Fifty for a while yet.”
“Any chance you’d take me to
Similar Books
