by Joe Humphrey
The evening she made Patrick cry and beg her to love him, Charlie found herself defending her right to date Patrick if she wanted to. The fact that she didn't want to was inconsequential. Charlie would be damned if she was going to be told she can't spend time with a perfectly pleasant boy.
Apparently, according to her mother, she'd heard from Bonnie Pratt at the laundromat that Charlie had been seen spending a lot of time with Patrick Kimball. Patrick's brother was Dennis Kimball, who was arrested three years ago for possession of marijuana and was currently in prison. It was going to be a cold day in hell when she allowed her daughter to run around with that kind of trash.
On principle, Charlie objected and the argument escalated into a screaming match. The conflict peaked when Charlie, to put an exclamation point on a particularly biting remark about what a controlling, awful, ignorant person her mother was, threw a glass container full of dry spaghetti onto the floor. It shattered and sent shards of glass and broken noodles everywhere. That's when Rose slapped her, stopping everything in its tracks. Charlie stared at her mother, stunned and unsure what to do next. Rose's entire body shuddered in anger and she whispered "Go to your room." Charlie went.
Charlie marched down the hall and gathered a change of clothes and stuffed them into her knapsack. She blew past her mother without a glance. Rose followed her outside, screaming to stop. Charlie ignored her, unsure of where she was going or what she planned to do, but knowing that she sure as shit wasn't going to stay in that house one more minute. Rose stopped following her at the end of the driveway, turned around, and stomped back into the house, not knowing that Charlie was taking the first steps in a very difficult and ultimately fatal journey.
Two blocks away, Charlie cursed herself for not thinking to get on her bike. She briefly considered swinging by Patrick's house to see if he wanted to steal his father's car and drive to California, but after the display he'd put on, she didn't want to open that wound. She also thought about stopping by her friend Valleri's house, but she knew that Valleri would try and talk her into going home, and that was the last thing on earth she wanted.
So, she walked. She walked until she was two miles out of town and facing the on-ramp to Interstate 15. She looked back at the little town she'd lived in her entire life, and then out at the vast desert sprawled out in front of her. Charlie stuck out her thumb and headed up the ramp.
- 6 -
The next two days were an intense learning experience for Charlie. The extent of her sexual activity up to that point had been solo excursions and what she'd experienced with Patrick earlier that week. Over the next two days, she accepted rides from five different vehicles. The first was the Dodge Dart that picked her up outside of Nephi. Its driver was a twenty-two-year-old guy by the name of Todd. Todd had shoddy tattoos and a long, scruffy mustache and sideburns, and sunglasses, and he wore a denim vest. Charlie thought he looked remarkably like Duane Allman from the Allman Brothers Band. He asked her where she was going, and she told him she wanted to go to California.
"Well I sure as shit ain't goin' to California, but I can get you as far as Cedar City. You headin' to L.A.?" He said in a drawl that was from somewhere south and east of Utah. Charlie thought about it for a minute. "Where do you think Jim Morrison is?"
When he looked at her, eyebrow raised, she realized how naive and stupid she sounded and was mortified. Todd chuckled to himself as he shook a Marlboro out of his pack and into his mouth. He offered her one and she tentatively took it.
"Probably in fuckin' jail. He whipped out his pecker in Florida and got hisself arrested. Is that why you're goin' to California? You looking for Jim fucking Morrison?"
He lit his Marlboro with a silver Zippo knock-off and handed her the lighter. She lit her cigarette and drew the smoke in. She'd smoked two or three times before and never enjoyed it, but managed to suppress the coughing and gagging fits that are the rite of passage for all young smokers.
"I don't know. I don't know what I'm looking for. It was just a starting point I guess," Charlie muttered, the gravity of what she was trying to do settling in.
"Hell of a starting point. Have you seen him lately?" Todd asked. Charlie shook her head. Todd held his hand over his gut like he was miming pregnancy.
"He got fat, and he grew a big gnarly fuckin' beard."
Charlie's heart sank. She'd seen photos of him with his beard and the mug shot was all over the news when he was arrested, but she didn't realize he'd gotten fat. It wasn't the idea of the fat itself that bothered her, but the loss of that snake-like posture he held in her fantasy. Plus, it meant he wasn't taking care of himself. She assumed he partied, but she didn't think about it in terms of the physical toll it would take on his body.
They rolled into Cedar City. Todd pulled into the parking lot of a small diner near the on-ramp on the south side of town and shut the car off. He looked at her for a long, contemplative moment.
"Listen to me, Charlie. I don't know what you're gonna find out there. I do know that the desert brings out the weirdness in people. A kind of weirdness that makes life interestin' and sometimes dangerous for little girls. I can't take you to California. I wish I could, but I can't. I got commitments here. I don't think things are going to work out for you there anyway. You don't even know where the fuck you goin'. But if you want to stay here for a little while, I can put you up. I won't even ask anything of you. You can stay with me for a bit until you figure out what you wanna do."
He looked at Charlie. She thought about what he was offering for a long time. Finally, she spoke.
"I feel like if I can get to the coast, everything will be okay. I just gotta get through all of this middle, and if I can make it through to the other side and land on the ocean, I know it will be all right."
Todd nodded, seeing that she'd made up her mind and knowing she was wrong. She had no idea why she believed it would be all right, or even if she did believe it, but it sounded right spilling out of her mouth. It wasn't that there was anything mystical or amazing in California she expected to find... it was just a destination that wasn’t where she was. It was the getting there that scared her more than anything.
"You know who you're like?" he asked. Charlie shook her head.
"You're like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, except for you're tryin' to get away from home, not back to it. You're followin’ the yellow brick road just because it's there. But Los Angeles ain't The Emerald City, and Jim Morrison sure as shit ain't the Wizard of Oz."
Charlie shrugged.
"Thank you for the ride, Todd."
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He took her hand and looked at her, suddenly very serious.
"Charlie you listen to me and I really mean you listen hard. There are guys out there... and you may not meet any of 'em, and you might meet all of 'em... but there’s bad guys who want to take from little Dorothys wandering around through Oz. You understand what I mean?"
Charlie nodded, eyes wide. She wasn't entirely sure she did understand.
"I ain't tryin' to scare you, but you need to know this. If you get in a car and a guy starts gettin' sketchy... sometimes it's better to give a little than to have them take it all, you dig?"
"I think so..." she said, not sure she agreed with his thinking, but also believing that he knew what he was talking about more than she did.
He nodded, sad, and resigned. She opened her car door and got out. He waved at her as the car pulled out of the parking lot, leaving her in the dust of the diner. As she watched the Dart roll down the highway, she was suddenly certain she'd made a mistake. She even considered screaming after him, to take him up on his offer. Pride kept her silent and she sighed. It was just before seven in the evening. The sun wouldn't go down for another hour and a half and she was confident she could flag down another ride, but now she worried about what the price of that ride might be.
As it turns out, the price was her first attempt at performing oral sex on a man. She'd never seen male genitalia in
person before. She'd seen photographs and depictions in art, but nothing like the knobby little thing that protruded up from the old man's lap, growing out of a nest of wiry gray pubic hair like some kind of stout, sickly mushroom.
The old man was a traveling salesman who introduced himself as Francis. When she told him she was going to California, he offered to take her as far as Las Vegas, his destination. He picked her up in his big Lincoln Continental at around a quarter to eight. Charlie, exhausted from the day's events, promptly fell asleep.
She woke up four hours later because she felt something pulling on her arm. When she came around, Charlie was first aware of the fact that they were parked at a rest area. Next, she realized that Francis had ahold of her wrist and was rubbing himself against her hand. Her eyes widened in the darkness as the understanding of what was happening dawned on her. She closed her eyes again and allowed him to do what he needed to do, remembering what Todd had said. When he stopped she opened her eyes again, He was looking at her, his eyes moist behind the lenses of his oversized old man glasses.
"You can participate if you want. I've been nice to you. You can be nice to me. It's only fair."
Better to give a little than to have them take it all.
"Okay. Just tell me what to do."
He did.
- 7 -
Something Charlie hadn't anticipated was that when she got into the car with Francis the elderly knife salesman (whose name wasn't actually Francis, but Reginald) was that his route to Vegas wasn't a direct one. He'd traveled south into Arizona rather than west toward Vegas and California. When he finally guided the car off the highway and into a small Navajo town called Tuba City, it was one in the morning. He pulled the Lincoln into the parking lot of a dusty old strip motel and killed the engine. Charlie looked at him from what seemed like a million miles away. She was tiny in the big leather seat of the Town Car, her knees pulled up to her chest.
"I'm staying here for the night and then on to Vegas tomorrow morning. You should stay here with me."
"I'm going to keep moving. I got enough sleep. Thank you."
Before he could protest, Charlie was out of the car and walking down the cracked road towards the light of a truck stop a quarter-mile away. Tears stood at the edge of her eyes, threatening to leap. She fought them back.
At the truck stop, she spent the last of her change on a plate of bacon and eggs and a cup of coffee.
In the parking lot, she managed to find a ride with a hulk of a truck driver named Robin. He was hauling a trailer full of frozen beef destined to be Quarter Pounders and Big Macs. He didn't waste any time, the way that Francis had, in letting Charlie know what was expected of her.
That ride only lasted an hour or so, as Robin was continuing south to Phoenix. He dropped her off in Flagstaff at a 7-11 and gave her two single dollar bills. She accepted the money without protest. When he said "You earned it," disgust and self-loathing washed over her as she put it together. How had she managed to go from her first kiss to highway prostitute in two days? Two dollars and an hour-long ride were what her dignity was worth. He tooted his horn as the truck pulled back onto the road and chugged towards the freeway. Charlie went into the 7-11 to splash some water on her face and buy some food and a toothbrush.
As she headed toward the highway, her backpack now stocked with food and drinks from the convenience store, she stumbled and nearly toppled over, light-headed and dizzy, her chest tight and shooting pain. Her heart raced and rattled in her chest. If she were alive today, she might have known she was having a panic attack. But in 1970, at the age of fifteen, Charlie was sure she was having a heart attack. She collapsed onto the shoulder of the road, her hand on her throat feeling her pulse, her breath coming in short, jagged bursts. She squeezed her eyes shut and fought the urge to vomit.
A long white Cadillac pulled alongside her, and the passenger window slid down in a smooth mechanical whisper. A voice came from inside.
"Hey! Are you okay?" The voice was female and chipper.
Charlie climbed to her feet and nearly lost her balance. She held onto the side of the car and looked into the open window. The driver was a woman who was maybe thirty, her blond hair impeccable, almost glowing, held in place with a black headband. Dark sunglasses in white frames covered her eyes. She lowered them and looked at Charlie.
"You look awful."
"I'm just really tired. I'm okay."
Charlie let go of the car and started to walk. The woman eased forward, matching her pace, watching her through the window.
"Do you live around here, honey?" the woman asked.
"No, I don't. I'm on my way to California."
"Oh, dear, you're a long way from California. Why don't you hop in? We'll get you something to drink and off your feet for a bit."
Charlie looked at the woman, who smiled. Charlie nodded and got into the car. The comforting smell of vanilla wafted off the woman. It instantly brought up warm memories that she couldn’t quite place but enjoyed the essence of. She was sweating and nauseated and it was a relief to get off the road and into a car with someone who was not likely to molest her. The woman held out her hand and introduced herself. She was wearing dainty little white leather driving gloves.
"I'm Caroline."
Charlie took her hand and shook, feeling awkward about it. Growing up in a small town, she wasn't often introduced to people she didn't know. Especially women who looked and dressed like Kim Novak in Vertigo.
"Charlie."
"That's a boy's name!" Caroline laughed, in a pleasant and completely sincere tone. Charlie had heard that plenty from kids growing up but didn't feel up to explaining her name. Caroline pulled the car back onto the road. Charlie smiled and shrugged.
"So, what's your story, Charlie?"
Charlie sighed and told her. Once she opened the tap it was impossible to close again. This was the first time anyone had asked her why she was running away since she'd left. Even Todd was respectfully disinterested in her personal life. It was the first time she'd been able to vent about her fight with her mother. About Patrick. About the slap.
She skipped over the unpleasantness of her last couple of rides.
"So, let me make sure I'm understanding you correctly. Your mother was upset because you were getting too comfortable with this Patrick boy, correct?"
"Yes."
"But you aren't getting close to him. In fact, you broke up with him, right?"
"Yes. Sort of. We weren't even going steady. I told him I didn't want to."
"So, you had a massive fight about dating a boy you weren't dating?" she asked, looking over her sunglasses at Charlie.
"Yeah. That's about it."
Caroline laughed.
"That's kind of goofy you know."
Charlie tried to look offended but couldn’t help but laugh herself.
"It's not goofy!"
"It kind of is."
"Okay, it's goofy. It's stupid!"
Charlie's laughter turned into thick, snotty sobbing. Caroline clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
"Listen. I'm going to take you back to my house and you're going to sleep as long as you need to, and then we'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow. How about that?"
Charlie shuddered out a long sigh, trying to gather herself. The lights of illuminated storefronts blurred together through her teary eyes as they drove by. It occurred to her that she had no idea where they were going. She didn't care.
"Okay. Thank you."
Charlie tried to smile at Caroline but all she could manage was a sad-looking nod. Caroline patted her on the leg and grinned.
"We'll get you all sorted out, don't you worry."
The fact that Caroline was wearing sunglasses at two in the morning never struck Charlie as unusual. At the time it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
- 8 -
Caroline's house was a quaint little cottage on the outskirts of suburbia. In the light of the streetlamp, she could se
e that the lawn was immaculately kept grass. The house itself was Canary yellow with white trim and a bright red door. At the end of the driveway was a mailbox shaped like a chicken. The whole aesthetic was almost cartoonishly old fashioned.
Caroline led Charlie through the front door into a warmly lit living room. It was modestly decorated with a retro-fifties old west motif. Silhouettes of cacti and galloping horses and rickety-looking fences sprouted up from the chair rail along the walls. A Navajo style blanket hung above the couch from hooks in the ceiling. Caroline dropped her keys and sunglasses on the end table next to the door and strutted into the living room. Her high heels clopped on the hardwood floors. The entire house also smelled of vanilla. Charlie suspected she used imitation vanilla as perfume, as some women her mother's age were inclined to do. It seemed like such an old lady thing and only added to this woman's strange charm. Charlie didn't think she was more than ten or fifteen years older than herself, yet everything about her seemed to be trapped in this 1950's idea of femininity. It would have been tacky if it hadn't been so cute.
"I don't have a guest room, but my son is away with his father and you're welcome to take his room for the night."
"Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me."
Charlie was near tears. The thought of crawling into a bed pulled at her guts like fish hooks. Caroline motioned to the couch.
"Sit down for a moment. I'm going to fix you a nightcap."
Caroline disappeared into the kitchen. Charlie didn't know what a nightcap was. She'd heard the term on television but never quite worked out what exactly it meant. Hearing the sound of a blender running and ice crunching, Charlie was even more confused. When Caroline came back into the living room with two tall summery looking iced tea glasses with long straws poking out of the top, she finally started to get the picture. She took her glass.
"What's in it?"
"Lemonade, strawberries, and rum," Caroline said, matter-of-factly. "Drink. It will help you sleep."
Charlie suspected that a glass full of sugar was probably not going to help her sleep, but she drank anyway. It was spectacularly delicious and so sweet it made her teeth cry out like singing wine glasses. She had tasted rum before and hated the flavor of it, but the strawberries and sugar and bitter lemon twisted the flavor into something delightful. She sucked a loose hunk of strawberry up through the straw and into her mouth.
