Family Disturbance

We stopped in a motel parking lot. The place was called the Pentagon. I hoped this was down to the building’s shape and not because of links to the military. A metal sign erupted from the sidewalk. It was topped by a red square that once said MOTEL but now said MOTE. You could see a ghost imprint of the L if you squinted. Behind it rose a bank of tall buildings, casinos and hotels. They stuck out like broken teeth.

And even though the Cowboy had pulled up the truck with the same abruptness as he might halt a galloping horse, Jennifer sat with her eyes closed, the seat belt having stopped her from smashing her face against the dashboard. Luckily.

He turned to pull the urn bag and its beyond-valuable contents from the space behind our seats.

‘We need to freshen up. We need to eat. You wait here while I arrange a room.’ He opened the driver’s door but paused before getting out. ‘You got any money, partner?’

Initially I thought he was asking to borrow some or even have me pay for my share of the motel. But when I shook my head he pulled a wallet from the inside pocket of his coat. It was made from the same snakeskin material as his boots. He took out two fifty-dollar notes (from a wedge of many more) and, stretching across Jennifer, handed them over. I was too confused to accept them straight off, so he waved them in my face.

‘Take them,’ he said. ‘It’s important to carry cash, whatever your situation. This is America.’ I didn’t want to argue, especially as he was staring me down with eyes like black pool balls. He watched me stuff the money into my jeans. ‘You say there’s a hotel room waiting for you in LA?’

I nodded, reciting the remembered address: ‘The Hollywood Roosevelt, 7000 Hollywood Boulevard, Los Angeles.’

He sucked his teeth. It made a strange whining sound.

‘I’m a father,’ he said, suck done. ‘Grandfather too. Can you believe it? One kid in Chicago, the other Kentucky.’ He looked to Jennifer. ‘Children need to be with their parents. Nothing more important than that. Nothing.’ He turned to me. ‘I bet your folks are very proud. They’ve sure brought you up well.’ He opened the driver’s door. ‘Stay out of trouble, Jacob.’ The door slammed behind him as he strode off. The noise shuddered across the car park like a firecracker. I watched him pass through the motel’s automatic doors and disappear into the shadows.

I looked to the passenger door and, in particular, at the plastic release that would open it if pulled. Jennifer’s eyes remained closed.

THE COWBOY WAS LETTING US GO!

The realisation flashed like the lights of a Vegas casino.

Trembling fingers pulled at the handle. The door, creaking, opened.

‘Jennifer, Jennifer,’ I said. ‘You won’t believe it.’

I shook her. Waking, her face looked anything but relaxed.

‘What?’ she said. ‘What are you doing? Stop shaking me.’

‘We’ve stopped, he’s gone, the doors are unlocked.’

She blinked herself fully awake, turning her head to look through the pick-up’s side window.

‘See!’ I said, stepping out of the cab, thinking Jennifer would follow. But she didn’t even release her seat belt. She just sat there. Blinking and yawning, yawning and blinking.

‘No,’ she said, as I stood slack-jawed at the passenger side. ‘I blew up an RV, remember. Like, totally exploded it.’

The motel’s entrance stayed quiet but this wouldn’t last. Soon the Cowboy would come moseying out.

‘But he wants us to go,’ I said. ‘That’s why he left. I’ve been talking to him. He’s not all bad. He’s, like, chill. He’s got kids.’

Jennifer reverted to her earlier position – eyes closed, back straight, facing forward. I knew I needed to be extra special, superhero persuasive now. I thought back to English lessons. There was one a couple of years ago where the teacher made us write to Father Christmas, asking for presents, but using persuasive techniques.

Could I remember any of them? Rhetorical questions? Humour? List of three?

The sun flashed off the motel’s automatic doors. A man stepped out. He wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat; he wore a UPS baseball cap.

‘We’ve got this far, Jennifer. You and me. All the way from Chicago. How many miles is that?’

‘Thousands.’

‘Thousands, right. And you’re only fourteen. You know, I’d thought you were seventeen or something. Not that it makes any difference. I was talking to the Cowboy and he told me his name’s Dorothy.’ Her face was unmoving. ‘Look, if you’re going to get shipped back to your grandmother either way, we may as well make the last day fun, right? When I won the competition to be in the superhero film, I was more excited than I’d ever been. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do. And then I met you and, you know, it sucks that I missed the shoot, super sucks, and I thought I’d feel worse but … I don’t!’

There! She smiled! And I even almost meant what I was saying! Her eyes were still closed, though.

‘And it’d be nice to see your dad, right? We could get a burger too.’

Her eyes flashed open and I think if she’d laughed or turned me down, I would have shrunk into a tiny shrivelled doll and would have continued shrinking until, pop, I blinked into nothing.

But she didn’t. Instead she said, ‘You’re so corny, and always with the food. And, for real, his name is Dorothy?’

I nodded.

‘Ha!’ she said. ‘I almost feel sorry for him.’

I did the ‘so’ thing with my hands and turned my smile upside down.

‘Okay, okay. I was kidding. Sure, I’m coming. I was always coming. I was enjoying your speech, that’s all. And it sounded important for your continuing development.’

I hated/loved her.

Leaving, I turned to see a figure standing at the motel entrance. The sun glared from the glass of the doors. The bright reflection made it difficult to see clearly. But I’m sure the man wore a cowboy hat. And from under a cloud of cigarette smoke I’m sure too that he raised a hand in farewell.