by James Calore
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There was a constant background rumble and an occasional jerk to the side, heard and felt from as if from a distance. A throbbing headache built to a crescendo that slowly brought J.T. back to the present. The side of his head hurt and his hair on that side, he discovered, was matted with blood. He looked around, at first unable to focus, then eventually made out hazy items scattered around his body. He was in the back of an old delivery truck. He was bound, wrists and ankles tied with rodeo rope and he heard voices behind him.
“You sure this’s the road for Kalispell?” A man’s voice asked.
“Ain’t but one,” a young woman answered. There seemed to be a tension in the air between them. J.T. listened.
“Okay, I still say we get a motel room, and call the boy’s folks for money, arrange for a drop-off then we go south before winter sets in and enjoy ourselves.” The man declared.
“That’s a waste a time,” the woman countered, “you know we don’t have nothin’, a phone number or even who this boy is anyhow, fer chrissakes, Earle!” She turned to look straight at him, “We should stop right now and question that little bugger back there, see what we can find out. How we gonna make a plan when we don’t know what we got? Huh? Answer me that, Earle?”
“I told you, we have to get on his good side, loosen him up, feed him, wrap him in a warm blanket, that sorta thing, you know?” Earle said tentatively.
“Hogwash, Earle, waste a time, like I been sayin’.” She went on, “You stop this vehicle and go back there and scare the bejesus out a him, and a few minutes later I’ll go back and sweet talk his young butt.” She paused, “Earle, he’s a damn boy, we ought to be able to handle this, dammit!
Nothing made sense to J.T., sitting in a strange room in a strange place with a determined man and woman asking him the same questions over and over. In what seemed like a never-ending cascade of similar days and nights, he tried mightily; he really did, but just couldn’t provide them any answers. The questions he heard found no matching responses in his mind. He wanted to help these people but just couldn’t understand what it was they wanted from him.
Outside a chilly rain was falling, the man called Earle came in from the outside and shook off his jacket and threw it on the chair. He approached J.T. slowly, his face unshaven and very serious. He was a stout man that ambled when he walked; he sat down next to J.T. on the bed and looked him in the eye.
“Now son, this can’t go on forever, you understand? You need to let us help you. You want help don’t you? You want to go home, don’t you, back to your folks?”
J.T. stared at him, he heard the words but it was like hearing a foreign language. He had no idea what this man wanted from him. He shrugged his shoulders.
“Man, you deaf or what, talk to me! Say something, dammit!”
Johnny stared expressionless at the man. Earle stood up in a huff, kicked the side of the bed with his boot, knitted his brows together and after a moment, let out a heavy breath and walked sullenly over to his jacket, looked back at J.T., cursed and left.
This went on for days, weeks, and J.T. had come to regard this as his normal daily life. He wanted to help the gruff man and his sweet girlfriend, Jolene, they seemed so anxious, and they were clearly looking to him for guidance. He tried to think but still nothing came to him, he just couldn’t grasp the situation. Occasionally an image, a new picture or scene would enter his mind, he pondered these memories, but no connections presented themselves. The side of his head was still numb, but some feeling was returning to the outside edges of the slightly concave area. He began to wonder why one side of his head was rounded and the other flat, almost inward. But that was all he could do, wonder.
“How much money we got left, Earle?”
“Enough for another couple weeks here is about all, Jolene.”
“You feeling desperate yet, Earle?” She asked.
“Pert close, Jolene.”
J.T. woke with a start, sat straight up in his bed; Jolene was rubbing the inside of his thigh, smiling at him. He felt a warm stirring in himself, he knew what it was, but confused as to why. Jolene repositioned herself so she could stroke a larger area of his smooth inner leg. She appeared happy, her full lips painted pink were slightly apart, her long face surrounded by reddish brown hair that framed her fair-skinned prettiness, her fingers long, slender and active. J.T. felt uncomfortable and squirmed away from her touch.
“Don’t you like that, boy? All the men I know sure do.”
J.T. tried to answer but didn’t know what to say. He knew he should stop this now, but part of him wanted more.
“I just don’t know what to call you, darlin’, what’s your name anyhow?” Jolene cooed for the hundredth time.
“J.T., my name is Jon Thierry Starett,” he said, speaking for the first time in five weeks. Shocked, he heard his own voice and wondered where it had come from. He had answered a question that was asked, he felt excited. He sat up straighter, he wanted another question; maybe he could help these folks after all!
“Jonny! What a sweet name!” Jolene was excited too, now she was getting somewhere. I told Earle we should’ve tried sexing the boy up earlier, dammit! “You like this, Jonny, my touching you like this?”
“To tell the truth, it’s making me a little uneasy, ma’am,” he replied. He was thrilled that he could now communicate with her after all this time. There was a force growing in him, he had recognized it for the last week or so, and here it was blossoming, he wanted to tell Jolene everything.
“I can do more, Jonny, so much more.” She smiled wickedly at him, “Lay back, let me show you.” She put her hand on his chest and pushed him down flat on the bed. “Say, where you from anyhow, Jonny, around here?”
“Where am I?”
“Why, you’re in Kalispell, ever been here before?” She moved her fingers higher on his thigh.
“I’m from Whitefish, not too far, just north a ways from here.” J.T. was happy to oblige, he wanted more questions, he wanted to hear himself answer them with words that pleased her.
Jolene’s hand reached a sensitive area and J.T. quickly rolled away like a wrestler performing an escape move and jumped out of bed. He quickly stood and placed both hands in front of himself, below his belt, covering up his excitement. He was mighty glad to help this woman but was confused about the physical contact. He was free of that now, and he felt better about his circumstance and could concentrate on helping her further.
He though Jolene would be unhappy with his rush from her touch but she wasn’t at all, she was beaming, as proud as punch. She stood, smoothed her blouse and headed straight for the door, pausing while holding it open to say, “I’ll be right back, Jonny, you just hold tight.” She closed the door behind her and left J.T. with his newfound thoughts.
