"What the fuck!" Max gazed at the 1990s-ish Bounder in disbelief. He darted his gaze up and down the road in front of his space. There wasn't even any lingering dust from his state-of-the art Prevost.
Goody opened the door of his 1970s-ish single-wide and stated the obvious. "Some guy traded your RV out while you was gone."
Max gaped at him before saying between clenched teeth, "Do you have any idea who the guy was or which direction he went after he left the park?"
"Said he was family, to the first question. As for the second, he went that-a-way." Goody pointed toward the road leading to the highway.
Max was about to reach for his phone and dial 9-1-1 when Goody said, "He was a tall fella' with blond hair and good lookin' to boot. Said he left you a note of explanation inside."
Pinky joined Goody, and said, "He looked right happy to be takin' yer RV and leavin' ya this one. I told him that since you was a city boy you wasn't gonna be pleased, but he just laughed."
Max bolted for the Bounder door and jerked it open. From Goody's description and Pinky's observation, he knew who had ripped off his RV; his stepbrother, Bertram.
On top of a small Formica table that folded out from the wall lay an envelope with his grandfather's embossed emblem. Max ripped it open. Unfolding the expensive stationary bearing the same emblem etched in gold, he read:
Max,
I can only imagine your face at this moment. I know you are livid, but I've decided that in my old age I need to take more vacations. There's a fishing hole in Oregon that I haven't visited in thirty years and it's been calling my name for many moons. So, my boy, I've decided to borrow the Prevost from you for awhile. Well, maybe for the rest of your stay in Oasis. Don't be mad at Bertram, he was only following my orders in retrieving the RV.
Speaking of Oasis, I hope you have settled in and started making friends. I know with your business acumen you are already setting the park in order. Along the way, however, don't forget to stop and smell the roses. Ha Ha. That was just a little joke, son. Maybe I should say, don't get stuck by a prickly pear. Anyway, I have a feeling that Oasis will grow on you after a season.
Wish me good fishing! And thanks for the use of the motorhome.
Gramps
P.S. If you're thinking of purchasing another RV to replace this one, you'll find that your bank account has been severely depleted.
Max tossed the letter on the table. Max, Sr. was calling himself Gramps! He couldn't remember ever having called his grandfather, Gramps.
Max sank onto the couch across from the dinette and groaned. Almost unconsciously, his mind registered the fact that the Bounder wasn't even a pop-out model. Leaning his head against the window behind the couch, he squeezed his eyes tight. For several minutes he made himself focus and deep breathe. He erased murderous thoughts for everyone except Bertram from his mind. He could just imagine the jerk's glee while replacing his RV with this one. The man had been sucking up to his grandfather since the age of twelve, when Max's mother had married Bertram's father, Maynard Babcock, the wicked warlock of the world. Since Max's father had died before Max reached the age of six and his sister was only two, they had never known the love of a father on a daily basis—what with their father chasing around the world supporting whatever the current cause. After Maynard entered their lives, they still hadn't known that love. The man had arrived with one agenda, well, actually two. Promote his son and discredit Max, Sr.'s direct grandchildren. Max hadn't even grieved when his stepfather died when Max was twenty. Unfortunately, Bertram had continued in his father's shoes.
Before unhappy childhood memories could gain a foothold, Max jumped up and surveyed the rest of the pitiful motorhome. The layout was such that the toilet was centrally located with a tiny sink. There was barely enough room to turn around, much less sit. Across from the head the shower was small. Max cringed when he thought of cramming his tall frame into that minimal space. The Prevost had had a full sized bathroom and shower. The only good thing about this RV was that it was clean.
As for the living area, there was a couch across from a pull out table with padded seating on either side. Along the same wall as the table and across from the side entrance, a miniature sink, two-burner stove, and quarter-size oven made up the cooking space. Opposite that set up was a half-size fridge.
Max moved past the kitchen and lavatory to the bedroom. After shouting a few curse words into the tiny room, he closed his eyes and thought of Pinky. His bedroom consisted of pink paneling, pink bedspread, pink privacy blinds, and pink carpet. Max suddenly felt nauseous.
Gulping calming breaths, he waited until the feeling passed before opening his eyes again. His clothing had been tossed haphazardly onto the bed and his toiletries onto the tiny nightstands on either side. There was hardly enough room to squeeze his body around the bed to reach the nightstands. Without a doubt, he knew his feet would hang off the edge of the mattress when he lay down.
Disgusted, Max returned to the front of the Bounder. For the first time he noted that the trailer park files were stacked on the driver's seat. Staring at them, and realizing the depths to which his life had sunk, he suddenly needed air. He needed to run. The outside temperature was probably pushing ninety degrees, but he didn't care. He'd run until he collapsed, if need be.
Rushing back to the bedroom, he fumbled through the clothing on the bed until he found his jogging pants and running shoes. Jerking them on and ripping his shirt off, he rushed from the RV. Vaguely, he was aware of Goody and Pinky standing with Pilar behind her white-picket fence and Pinky gesturing toward his RV. Other neighbors were standing in the road, and still others were suddenly taking strolls.
Briefly, his eyes met Pilar's. Expecting to see wrath, or worse, pity, he only saw confusion. He turned and started running. He ran to the trail used by residents for walking their dogs. At the end of the trail he reached a road that went to God knows where. He kept running.
And running.
And running.
Sweat poured from his body. His heart pounded. The heat increased. But still he kept pounding the hard-packed dirt road.