Jack (chapter 4)

            I trudge behind Valerie and her swinging blonde hair.  She is attractive enough to be tempting but there is something dishonest in the way she walks - heavy and bouncy at the same time and her hips sway with the over-exaggeration of a hippopotamus.  Her loose fitting skirt and tight tank top emphasize this.  I am almost positive that her boobs are fake as well.  In spite of her less than honorable gait, her smile is genuine enough to make her harmless.

            We approach the parking garage crammed full of cars, trying to get out and continue their journey by the road instead of the air.  Rage is at a height comparable to Everest; I could only imagine what it must be like in places like Los Angeles and New York City.  I smile to myself quietly enjoying the chaos.  It had been a while since I have experienced so much frustration from outside of myself.  I think the last time I did was when I went to a rally protesting the Gulf oil spill, as if protesting it would actually fix the issue.  I smiled to myself then too.  I went for the sheer joy of observing. 

            As I was listening to one man screech to a halt after his ten feet of actual movement and there curse out of his window at the car that had been stopped there the whole time, we come upon a man that was bigger than an bison (I would know because I saw more than I could possibly count on a family vacation to Yellowstone).  I believe I jump a little when approaching him.  He does not smile and he could very well harm me, a lot.  I give him my most serious and unassuming look, hoping that he will trust me or at the very least not kill me. 

            “This is Mr. Peter James.  He is my best friend’s uncle and has gotten this van for us.”  Oh, she’s talking to me.  Then she turns to Mr. Peter James and introduces me as simply Jack.  She keeps smiling, obviously not realizing the size of this man.

            I nod and try to hide the fact that I am just trying to remember to breathe.  He nods as well and opens the back door.

            A low rumble comes from the man’s mouth and I suppose it’s his voice saying something about a couple coming too, some coworker and his wife who need a ride just a day away, so they wouldn’t be with us for very long.  He then looks at me and asks, “You going all the way to Miami?”  I nod again.  I think this man has scared the voice out of me.

He smirks a little and remarks, “You don’t say much; I think you and I will be alright.”  He’s right, on both counts.  The one problem is that Valerie talks enough to keep anyone else from saying anything.  She’s been going on for a while now about how she is dreading the ride and how long it is going to take to get to Miami and can’t imagine why air traffic controllers would ever need to strike and couldn’t just anyone go up in the tower and tell people to land or takeoff.  It couldn’t possibly be that complicated.  In all her ramblings, she’s right about one thing, this is going to be a very long trip. 

Mr. Peter James asks if I would mind him putting me on the driving list because it would be nice to break up the driving between two drivers.  Valerie seems a little hurt by not being asked and to make sure she hasn’t been ignored interjects, “I’m not really comfortable driving big vans.  I have a little BMW that I drive around and couldn’t possibly figure out how to park something so large.”  That is a load of crap.  This is a minivan, almost too small to even be called that.  But I concede to Mr. Peter James that I would be glad to share the driving responsibilities with him and proceed to thank him for allowing me to tag along with them.  He tells Valerie to stay with the van and the two of us go to the line at the car rental counter.  I look at the length of it and think that it will be at least an hour before we will be helped.  Fortunately, however, Mr. Peter James is something like a gold-class member so he gets to jump ahead of everyone else in line.  He carries power well, never even giving an apologetic glance to those furious individuals waiting in the line.  I keep my head down, hoping to avoid the glares and stares.  I don’t carry power well and that’s probably because I have no experience with it.  We flawlessly add my name and are able to leave again in under five minutes.  I glance up once to see a young child hanging on his mother’s leg.  He’s obviously tired and ready to be somewhere else.  The mother pushes him off with a furious shove.  He looks at me for relief and the mother follows his eyes to me.  I catch the anger behind them briefly, just long enough to notice that I had even averted my gaze from the ground and that is where it should return.  I follow Mr. Peter James like a wounded puppy who has found someone to give him water, however crude the bowl may be.

We reach the van and the couple approaches about twenty minutes later, annoyed by the frustration of waiting for their luggage but more so by the fact that they had kept a stern business man like Mr. Peter James waiting.  He doesn’t seem so bothered.  We pile into the van with our bags.  I volunteer to take the very back.  Being far away from everyone and conversation is the ideal spot for me.  I fall into the seat and brace myself for several days of driving.  I think about the small boy and the anger he was having to endure.  My thoughts drift to the girl from the case.  She would never have pushed her son from her leg no matter how obnoxious he may have gotten.  The father would never have let her, even if he had read the thoughts in her mind to do so.  I’m tempted to take out my laptop and stare at the picture further, but I know that it would create questions among my fellow passengers, so I sidestep that conflict.

The couple was introduced as Joseph and Mary Garrett, how biblically profound.  I wonder if their children are saints.  They are both professionally dressed in suits.  I wonder how long it might take for the generations to accept my outfit of jeans and a t-shirt as the norm for business personnel.  I can see it happening.  That is, most people will probably end up working from home over the internet anyway. 

Joseph sits in the front seat next to Mr. Peter James, while Valerie and Mary sit in the middle seats.  The men sit in the front talking sports.  The women sit in the middle getting to know the simple facts about each other.  I can’t really hear the conversation going on between the men so I listen to the women.  I find out that Valerie is actually a student at FIU where she is involved in a sorority, but doesn’t hold any kind of officer position; I’m not surprised by this in the least.  She doesn’t have the personality to lead.  She doesn’t currently have a boyfriend, which she makes sure I can hear.  At first I’m annoyed because I know this means she’ll be trying to impress me constantly, but then I see the positive in that she won’t be rambling incessantly about how amazing her boyfriend is.  I’m not always a negative personality.  She’s changed her major a few times and in the list, I’ve lost where she has actually landed, for now.  She was in Portland visiting her parents for a week this summer.  She currently works at some clothing store, which is the only store that she’ll even think about buying clothes from. 

Mary listens patiently to the girl chirping next to her.  She keeps a kind smile on her face and nods every so often.  She comments occasionally, saying things like “I thought about majoring in that” and “My daughter loves clothes from that store.”  I can’t tell yet if she is sincere or just congenial.  Eventually, Valerie gets tired of talking about herself and asks Mary a few questions.  Joseph and Mary have three children.  Their son just left for college to pursue some kind of ridiculous physics degree, apparently he’s only sixteen, damned over-achievers.  Their daughter is fourteen and has shown profound depth of knowledge in children’s literature, in fact she has already written three children’s books which have won awards at the national level, again, damned over-achievers.  Their youngest is six and is adopted from somewhere in Africa, how very progressive they are.  They are actually on their way to Boise to pick her up from a summer camp where she has shown great proficiency in horseback riding.  They are now thinking about buying her a horse.  Mary speaks using eloquent terms and small hand gestures.  Her face never strays far from a smile, but never quite ventures into a full grin, although her teeth are perfectly proportioned and as white as fresh snow.  I hair never moves from it place and the perception of perfection remains in tact through the entire trip.  I am impressed but not awed.  Perfection is easy enough to feign; I tried once or twice but never cared enough to follow through to completion.  In spite of all of this I like Mary, she seems to care about her children and encourage them in their various avenues of personalities and strengths. 

As their conversation starts to fall away I think that it is about time to at least fake sleeping before they remember that I am back there and know so very little about me.  I contemplate this too late and Mary turns to me, “So Jack, what is it that you do?”

With my most determined tone, I answer as vaguely as possible, “I work from home.”

“Doing what?”  Valerie has chimed in.  I really hate being questioned about myself.

“Research.”

Mary picks up the fact that I’m not willing to divulge very much and says, “That must be interesting.”

“Most of the time.”

“Ugh.  I hate researching.  It’s so tedious and it takes so long.  I much prefer to state my opinion on things and be done with it.”

“My dear, you can’t have much of an informed opinion without research first.”  Mary has successfully stopped Valerie before she can get very far.  She then turns to the gentlemen in the front of the van and joins their conversation which has remained on sports this entire time.  She is able to join without hiccup and has just as much insight into the sports as the men do.  Joseph is proud of his wife’s knowledge on the subjects and I realize I like Mary because she is well-informed and can confidently carry a conversation with anything from the President of the United States to a rock.  Even more than that she can readily observe when a conversation is not the route to be taken. 

At the rebuke from Mary, Valerie has taken to her ipod and staring out of her window as her way of sulking.  I fall asleep because I truly am tired and realize that I will probably be driving in the next couple of hours.  I pray I don’t snore which would bring unwanted attention to myself.