The Ice Age (2 page)

This old Marilyn-ie waitress took me by the shoulders. It was a little abrupt but her grip on me was steady and comforting. I didn't think she meant any harm.

She said, ‘Honey, I can get you out of here.'

I said, ‘What?'

She got more urgent. ‘Honey, what's your name? Can you tell me your name?'

I was getting confused now and just stared.

She shouted, ‘I'm Peggy! What's your name!?'

‘I'm OK,' I said.

The chef sniffed, ‘Ain't no kind of name,' and chuckled at his own joke.

Peggy kept on. ‘What? Honey, I can get you away from him.'

I must have looked horrified, because she stopped in her tracks, quieted down a bit, and said, ‘He's not your…father…is he?'

‘Um,' was my best effort.

‘Well, what's he—'

I'm not a good liar, and started stammering ‘He's my…uncle, we're driving, my mother's dead (at which point I started crying. I don't know whether I was starting to believe my own story, or just crack under the pressure). We're driving across, I'm going to live with my grandfather.'

‘Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.' And she was clutching me to that huge, ample breast, in a long, squishy waitress hug.

I can't believe she bought that panicky garble. My pants may as well have been on fire. We were pretty nervous after that. I hightailed it out front without going to the bathroom, and when I got there Gunther wasn't in our booth. He left a nice wad of bills on the table and was waiting in the car, idling, facing the exit. I got in and he drove out calmly and deliberately. We changed our route and drove out of state lines. Every time we saw a cop car we got edgy. Gunther even had me slouch down. And then he yelled, ‘My God, I haven't done anything wrong!' It's not often he yells. Then he muttered, ‘Who am I kidding?'

That kind of broke up our routine. Things weren't as monotonous after that. There was this new excitement. Less of the old calm. We were drawing more stuff toward us. This time when we stopped at the hotel, it wasn't a two-tiered budget inn with a bored receptionist and nothing doing. It was a proper roadhouse. This town had somehow grown its own energy, or sucked it from somewhere, out past all the farms and fields. It was kind of messy, with loaded guys ambling across the parking lot with beers in their hands, shouting to people inside. I couldn't tell if they were mad or not. Gunther headed straight for the bar and ordered a drink. He sat himself down on a little stool and told me to go to the room. I must've kept standing there, because he got a little upset. Said I was too young to be drinking. I stood planted a little longer. I was just confused. Watching him roll joints half the night was part of my evening routine.

I did go back to the room; I tried to anyway. I put my stuff down on the bed and flipped through the TV channels. But I got bored. I went out to the soda machine by the parking lot and considered what flavor I might like. I could a feel a presence near me, but then, there were a lot of people floating around at this joint. I decided on orange. And in the racket of the can clunking down the chute, someone said, ‘Hey.'

Now this boy was good looking. He had shoulder length, tousled, farm-boy hair. He looked slightly older than me, just enough to be interesting. I said ‘hey' back. We talked a little and before I knew it, we were around the corner kissing. I hadn't done much kissing. I'd spent all my previous kisses wondering what the heck those guys thought they were doing, and whether or not I liked it.

I liked this kissing. And the touching. He was holding me tighter and tighter, and he was warm. His shirt was scratchy, and I don't usually know what texture people's clothes are. All the closeness was kind of nice. I was liking the kissing more and more as it went on. Then we stopped for kind of a breather. We just chatted. Small talk and stuff. He asked where I was from. I said back East. I found his presence kind of exciting, but his talking was boring me. Gunther hates small talk. ‘Abhors' it. Says it's a needless strain on the vocal cords. He usually gets by with a polite grunt, and I think I agree with him, that's usually ‘sufficient'. People aren't really interested in you anyway. I hoped this boy would get back to the kissing. I've got Gunther to talk to if talking's what I want.

I guess I was boring him, too, because he got back to the kissing, and pretty quickly too. I don't know how long we kept at it. He had started to touch other parts of me. At first I was uncomfortable with some of it, like when he swept his big old countryboy paw across my breasts. But then I started to get kind of tingly. And then Gunther shouted, ‘What the HELL do you think you're doing?!' It was clear he'd been back to the room, because he'd taken his jacket off. I wondered how long he'd been looking for me. I had no idea how long I'd been out there. Long enough to get pretty tingly. It was all kind of a blur from there. Gunther marched me straight back to the room, barely glanced at the boy, who muttered, ‘Jeez, your dad is pretty uptight.'

Once back in the room we didn't really say much. Gunther rolled an assembly line of joints with a series of jerky movements that had none of his usual joint-rolling grace or finesse. He was glaring at his hands, glaring at everything they touched. I mumbled ‘sorry', and he snorted. I didn't think I'd done anything hugely wrong, but it was late, I guess. He must have been looking for me for a while. But as far as I knew we were both entertaining ourselves. That was his idea. I thought he was having a night on the town. Or on the roadhouse, as it were. And me…well, as Glorie announced huskily when I stood staring at her traveling portrait, you're only young once.

He seemed back to normal by the next morning, when he was doing all his morning things. By the time we got into the car he was a lot sunnier, for him. He seemed to have seen something funny in it. He smiled; not his usual beaming, but he glanced a weakish grin my direction. ‘So our little girl is growing up,' he said. ‘I think you can do better than Random Farm Boy.' We drove a ways further, past another doughnut sign, with faded, chipping paint. ‘Perhaps, a little more discerning.'

We didn't deviate from routine for a couple of weeks at least, after that incident. We each seemed to be making a concerted effort to keep things as regular as possible. We didn't even make fun of people, or towns, or signs. We didn't complain about the boringness of anything. We preserved it. We damn near cultivated it.

I just wanted to crawl back into that bubble of safeness, that cocoon of hugging walls, smoke, and gazing at Gunther; basking in his benevolence, and dreaming of the promise of ultimate freedom he might deliver. For his part, I think he was trying to regain his composure, his suave air. I think he was largely succeeding.

We were on sort of an artificial roll. I say ‘artificial' because we weren't quite ourselves. We were both a little nervy. But that didn't seem to hurt us. The fact that we weren't so locked into our comfy groove together meant we were able to put more of our individual vibes out into the world. We managed to charm our way through several towns. People were actually starting to think I was his nice little daughter. We weren't creeping people out anymore.

Maybe we've been getting too charismatic for our own good. Because we decided to hit the town again last night, and this time together. People thought it was cute I was hanging around. But then Gunther started talking to a pretty lady at the bar. I'd been sitting at the booth for a while, and it didn't look like he was ordering us any food. In fact, it looked like he was buying them both a drink. And she was laughing.

I never have much money of my own, so when I need to buy my own meals I usually head for a vending machine. Vending machines must be romantic beacons for me, because when I got to this one there was a nice-looking boy there; kind of punky with dyed black hair, and sort of a shy slouch. He was buying an oversized chocolate chip cookie. We said ‘hey'. He said that was his dinner. I got a candy bar and said, ‘Mine, too.'

The candy bar was gross. He said I should have gotten a cookie; his was good. And filling. I said I didn't have enough change. So he talked me into letting him buy me one, and we went outside and sat on the curb by the parking lot. His talking was more interesting than the farm boy's. I didn't know what he was on about half the time, but at least he sounded like
he
knew, sounded smart. He was talking about music and anti-mainstream stances. He didn't ask me any dumb small-talky questions. He mostly just talked about himself.

By now I thought it was time we got to the kissing. He was a boy, and I was pretty sure that's what boys want. I leaned in, but he didn't seem to get the point. In fact, he kind of melted into an even more closed posture. He was almost folding in on himself. We talked some more, and then he got onto the subject of how girls like me never like guys like him. I asked him what a girl like me was, and he didn't elaborate. He just stayed all slouchy. I definitely had to kiss him now. To make him feel better, and to show him he was wrong. So I did, and he seemed kind of startled, but then warmed into the kissing nicely. He wasn't as pushy as the farm boy. He was softer. This was nice. I got all tingly faster. We stayed out there in the parking lot like that for a while, swapping spit and lightly pawing each other. He said a few nice things to me, about me being pretty and all that. Then he said we should go back to his room. Apparently his parents had got him his own room, with a balcony and everything. I thought that seemed like a bad idea, and I knew Gunther would be upset. In fact, that suggestion brought me crashing back to earth. I said I better go, and went back to our room.

Gunther wasn't there. He came in just after dawn, looking disheveled and weary. He avoided looking me in the eye and flopped onto his bed, fetal position. Clothes and all. This room had twin beds, instead of two double, or one double and one cot. He stayed like that until he got up to take a shower. He went through his morning routine, and eventually looked very refreshed. He was calmer than he has been of late on today's drive, and even more polite than usual.

He returned and kept to his civilized ways and his reclusive rituals for a while after that night. He was reading good books and talking about ideas and ideals with me, just like old times, smoking away. I was typing loads on the tacky typewriter, smoking with him. We had some interesting discussions, and sometimes when we were stoned I could make him laugh a lot, then he would beam. And, as I'm sure I've mentioned, I like it when he shines those eyes on me. I felt comfortable again, but I wouldn't say I felt the old safety.

The next few days' driving was affable and chatty. One thing I probably haven't stressed about Gunther is that he is very down to earth. For all his cultured-ness, he likes talking my crap with me. He likes hearing my silly stories. He's got a few of his own. He's quick with a laugh, or rather, quick with a sharp-toothed grin.

We didn't collect as many suspicious looks when we stopped for meals, as we passed through this latest assortment of localities. We were comfortable. Maybe it was also the fact we weren't in the middle of the country anymore. It's less scary-weird when you get closer to the edges. People are just more normal. You don't feel followed by countless pairs of accusing eyes, hovering just out of sight. Walking down Main Street in Averageville Anywhere, Middle-of-the-Country is like walking through a clearing, feeling that all around you, the trees, bushes, hell…sky, are full of things itching to pounce.

Gunther says that is the folly of a country so large, and so insular. It becomes its own planet. The parts that aren't visited enough by outside influences repel those influences when they come across them. So they just get more and more stuck in their own strange way of being. I'm from a small town myself, but, being closer to one of the edges, I guess it was a little more idyllic.

We were coming into the desert now, and the landscape was interesting to look at. There were still a lot of farms dotted about, so it wasn't moonscape desert. We'd get into that later. It was good to have a change of scenery. All those strip malls and scrubby trees were starting to hurt my eyes. I'd spent half my time just watching Gunther drive: staring out ahead serenely, hypnotizing the road with those cool beams.

I spent less time typing during the evenings that accompanied these days, and more time studying Gunther. He was so used to me now he didn't seem to notice, or mind. But then he never seemed to mind anything. That was probably why I felt so safe with him, and why all that safety came like a rush when we first started spending all this time together. There were no sudden moves, no shifts or jolts, he was just smooth, just there. It was like being under water. I've made him mad by now a few times, obviously. That burst my bubble a little, but it also made him more human. We had a comfortable closeness now, definitely. But he still kept a dignified distance. Just far enough for me to contemplate him. I know we like each other's companionship. I sometimes thought it was kind of pointless, having random make-out sessions in nowhere towns with boys I didn't even know. There was an arbitrariness and lack of taste to these encounters. It seemed dumb to pick them over someone classy like Gunther. I couldn't tell if it bothered him. He was pretty cool and contained, and had his own occasional encounters, so it was hard to tell. By now I had gotten a taste for the kissing, and was starting to wonder what it would be like to kiss him.

We seem to be zig-zagging across the country. We certainly aren't moving in a straight line. Gunther has a few friends scattered around the place. Quite a few really, for a reclusive sort. We've been stopping here and there to visit these various characters. You'd have to be a little out there to know Gunther. And then we stopped in other places and I didn't know why. I get the impression it has been a while since he's visited these people, these spots, and that's part of why he is going out of his way. Getting to the far coast where the living is better is simply a bonus now, a minor detail. At this point I'm along for the ride.