“Honestly, it’s amazing that the two of you didn’t kill each other a long time ago. I’m only gave you guys six months. Lost a bet.”
The rusty pickup truck hits a pothole in the middle of the dirt road. The woman’s head bounces off of the upholstered ceiling. Bits of foam and dust sprinkle her light blond hair. The driver’s lip twitches, causing a bit of tobacco scented dribble to pool in the corner of his mouth.
“I mean, we always figured him to be one of those boys who found himself a girl who couldn’t find anyone else. He wasn’t too bright, he wasn’t good-looking neither. He was just one of them kind-hearted boys with a man’s temper. Can’t fault him for that.”
The gray pickup truck hits another pothole, this time having to swerve to do so. The truck is very familiar with these country roads. So is the driver. Her head bounces off of the ceiling again. A bruise is beginning to form. An impression of the top of her head is starting to form in the foam lining of the roof. The driver would have to take care of that later.
“Still, you knew what he was and who he was and we knew what you was and what you wasn’t. We tried telling the boy but honestly, you had that boy so under your thumb I’d imagine that if you told him to jump he wouldn’t say shit. He’d just start jumping tell you told him to stop or he fell over.”
The worn tires on the truck began to whine as the driver drove off the road. Another pothole was coming up and he didn’t want to leave her wanting. This pothole was a large one, so large it sent her up into the air when the front tires hit and bounced her twice against the roof when the back tires hit. The driver heard a loud crack; Amber slumped over onto the driver. A mixture of her sweat and his whiskey caused her hair to stick to his unshaven jaw.
“Distasteful, you know? This whole business, I know. But it isn’t like you really gave us much of an option. You have your side and these laws and I’ve seen them at work. I’ve seen it before. You’ll make a fuss about how he hit you once and how he enjoyed the bottle and suddenly what you did with that iron was just you trying to save yourself. Bobby was rough but honest. And I know if you wanted to go I know he wouldn’t have stopped you. You dug a hole where there didn’t need to be one.”
Amber began to moan. That’s all she could do. The sock the driver found in the bed of his truck didn’t allow her to do much else. She looked at the driver, who looked like a leaner version of his brother and their father before them.
“My mother gave me so much shit about you. Did I ever tell you that? You know, he was her favorite, no disputing that. He was always a little pudgy, that kept him from looking too much like our father. You know I couldn’t do much about it. I had that rat-bastards face and body. One night I was downstairs and looking in the fridge for a tall boy I thought I had. It was around when it stops being late and starts being early. She crept up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. She had the whiskey about her, and she said ‘I always knew you’d come back and save me from these bastards.’ I turned around, and she saw it was me and she beat me something fierce. All I did was look like him. All I’m ever trying to do is not look like him to her. But that’s all she sees. She looks at me and sees him. She looks at Bobby and sees hope. Saw hope. She don’t see much anymore.”
The road ended, and the truck stopped. The driver shifted into neutral, and got out. The driver pulled her out through the driver’s side door and walked over to the ledge. It wasn’t particularly high up, only about forty-five feet. It was enough.
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