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WHAT: friendly ole cowboy offer u a beer WHAT do u do!!
WHERE: back of the pick up, taos
the summit was one of the most exciting times of the year, at least to lee it was. it made him feel like more of a kid than christmas had in a long time, and despite the frigid temperature, he was posted up in the back of his truck watching everyone as if they were moving constellations. then that face walked by and he jumped out of the bed as fast as he ever had, "hey! you!" he drawled, brimming with a quiet enthusiasm. lee bennett has never known a stranger, "want a beer?" he asked, more than ready to immerse himself in the unpredictability of whatever conversation was coming his way. before the other could answer, he was rummaging inside of his cooler for a bottle. he cast a glance that said catch before tossing. beside his truck, he had a small fire going, which he ducked down by for some warmth and teased, "are you even old enough to drink?" an obvious joke. shamelessly, he sat down in the dirt, digging his toes in the rocks by the fire. he couldn't think of a more perfect way to spend the new year. lee sipped on his already open beer and struck up the conversation he sought out to have, "make any resolutions this year?"
ā¹Ā Ā ā¹Ā Ā ā¹Ā Ā
The night air settles, and the blue tint of night washes across the lively scene where everyone can come together. Itās enough to settle that dull ache in Cliveās chest as his eyes wander across it all, taking it in. The community. There was something to it all that he couldnāt quite place a finger on. Warmth illuminating from lamps hung on the sides of RVs as moths flock to them, and the flickering light from fire paint the faces of all those gathering together, laughing and talking as if theyāve known each other their whole lives.
āLee!ā It didnāt matter where Clive was wandering to, his direction quickly turned to face the familiar face. āI know, itās hard to believe right? My age, she holds me well.ā His hands carefully catching the beer as he makes his way over, taking a seat down besides him. Did his knees ache on their way down, and he wasnāt all that confident in his ability to stand back up form the fireplace afterwards? Sure. But that was far from an immediate concern in his mind. Sitting close enough to wrap an arm around Lee as a small sentiment in their greeting, the sound of the fire crackling in the brief silence as he ponders the question. Taking his arm back and opening the beer in his hand, Clive deicides to settle with,Ā āNot yet. Can I borrow one of yours? Iām sure yours have got to be good.ā
Cole tried to be agreeable-- he really did! Try! But hearing nothing but Madonna and Whitney for the last three days was wearing on him, making him more irritable than usual. The second their RV was in park, Cole grabbed his backpack, offered a rushed goodbye, and all but collapsed out of the front door. He was stunned for a second; half of him was expecting all the stories about the summit-- about a bigger group of rubber tramps-- to be just stories. But the camp was full and bustling with commotion. Slinking through the throng of people, Cole located his target. Leaning forward on an arm, he mustered up a friendly smile. "You got a stereo deck that's unoccupied? Or a Walkman? Mine's busted." More than he hated talking to new people, Cole needed to cleanse his ears-- to listen to some real music.
ā¹ Ā ā¹ Ā ā¹Ā
It was nice being on the road, stones and dust kicking beneath car tires. Hands on the wheel, eyes peeled on the horizon as the bitumen and gravel get swallowed under the car, moving him forward. Closer to that never ending stretch of road he now travels on. He was still adjusting to it, to the open windows and open road, and just how large this world could be. And how for the first time in a long time he was surrounded by people- strangers. Faces he hadnāt grown up with, and seen day in and day out. Those faces that gave him nothing but looks of pity, eyes sunken into their features, and smiles softening to sorrow on their faces- because who was Clive if not for a reminder of his own pain.
āYeah should do,ā Jumping down from where he sat on the bonnet of his car, shoes kicking dust as they land. Head burying into his car for a moment to search. Part of him considers asking the kid what he needed it for, but he decided it didnāt matter too much, it wasnāt like he reached his stereo. Not when his carās one works just fine. āIt hasnāt been turned on for a minute though.āĀ
[TIMOTHY OLYPHANT, CIS MALE, HE/HIM] ever heard about [CLIVE PREAKER]? Out here on the road, they have a reputation of being [ARTICULATE & MODEST] but also [IRREVERENT & PASSIVE], no wonder theyāre called [OVER THE HILL]. According to local legend, theyāre [FIFTY-TWO] and when they pull up to camp not a soul can mistake the sound of [THE ROAD TO CAIRO by DAVID ACKLES ] following them. Some say they carry [A WEDDING BAND THATāS NEVER LEFT HIS FINGER, LOU REED MIX TAPE, and A ROPE TIED BRACELET ] and have been traveling with [THE MILITANTS].
long biography .
google doc.
about .
It was supposed to be what he wanted, it was everything he was supposed to do. Clive made sure he followed that template to a T, anything and everything he was told to do. The checklist of life. Work hard to give your wife the life she deserves, attend church every Sunday, say grace before every meal, visit your parents on holidays. It wasnāt new, or groundbreaking, highschool football co-captain, marrying his highschool sweetheart, settling down into this life together. Kristin, she was a cheerleader, with a smile like the summerās day. And enough warmth, Clive thought it just might be enough for the both of them. For him this life was always so close to perfect that it didnāt matter it wasnāt.
He grew up on the rougher side of town, but his parents did their best to provide most days at least. His father was a cowboy, working on the ranch on the other side of town, the same place Clive would get his first job. Bruises under the sleeves of his shirt, hands learning calluses as he hauls out hay bales with the rising sun. For the longest time, it felt like there was no rest. Just a gnawing, ever present ache. He thinks maybe it was a loneliness heād known his whole life. It turned out it was the same echoing emptiness his father also felt. That would be evident the day he found him. Everyone else told themselves it was an accident. Good men with accidents donāt go to hell after all.
Cliveās not sure heās ever consciously made any decisions in his life, or if everyone else has just told him the life he should be living. āYouāre a bright young boy, Clive. Donāt waste that.ā His mother would tell him, maybe she was right. Maybe he wanted her to be right so much he let it be so. Heās not even sure he would have asked out his wife if his best friend hadnāt told him to. He doesnāt think he would have even asked for a daughter if it wasnāt for her asking in the quiet of the night. But he could never blame her, heād know the way he was distant some days, hard to love. It must have been lonely.
When they lose their daughter, she was only twelve. Clive thinks he should have known that she would have been poisoned by the same overwhelming cavernous emptiness heād tried to swallow most days. He tells his wife he loves her, and he does. Always and forever there for one another.They try to stay strong for one another. But god how heād pray he could do so much more for her. That was what he was supposed to do right? Everything felt like it would be collapsing, but that was just the thing about the white picket fence, you were never allowed to show the weight it had. But when life takes punch after punch after punch, that veneer gets harder to hold. Loosing Kristin felt like it was his final breaking point, but the lord clearly felt as if he could handle losing his job as well. At first he drank too much, stumbling out of bars back to his car, and driving to some abandoned lot just to save the embarrassment of admitting that heād failed.
Even now thereās still something of a sadness staining his smile, thatās settled deep in his bones. But he tries to keep lost in this life. The stories others have to offer, the community of those around who seem just as lost as he feels. And then thereās the days that keep him here, those days where fresh air fills his lungs, and even just for a moment it feels like for the first time in his life, things are going to be okay.
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