El Paso Passing (8) – The Escape


The screaming jolts Bryan out of his coma.  “What the fuck is going on?” He screams.

“Please. Please. Let me out,” I beg, but Mr. Trucker rolls his eyes.

I hear the twisted metal sound again and the sharp squeal of brakes trying to stop tons of steel.  I fly forward in the seat and almost knock my head against the dashboard, the windshield.  He’s pulled his rig over at some ancient Mobile station with dusty diesel pumps and an American Bell payphone.

“You’ll be sorry and so will your buddy.  You coulda had a ride and plenty of coke and plenty of fun.  Ain’t no more truck stops for miles.” He leans over towards me, his bulging belly resting on the stick shift.

I try to kick him.

“Fuck-you, lying bitch.  You’re as lousy as the rest.  Get the fuck outta here,” he shouts.

Bryan is pissed and rubbing his sleepy eyes.  I scramble out the door and Mr. Trucker tosses my pack out at me.  He speeds off with Bryan barely out of the door.

“What the fuck? Why’d you have to piss him off? How we gonna get another ride? Bryan asks.

I run to the phone and call my Mom collect. “Mommy,” I whimper.  I want to let down this flood of tears, but I know that will make her cry more.  I can hear Hank Williams in the background.  Her stupid boyfriend is drunk again, slamming can after can of Milwaukee’s Best. I hear him shout at my mom, “Who the fuck’s calling, lady?” So I hang up.  I don’t want to get her in trouble.


One Response to “El Paso Passing (8) – The Escape”

  1. 1 Candace

    Send this to The Sun, I’m serious. This is a riveting, heart wrenching and as a woman, all too familiar story. There’s something really healing, as frightening as it may seem, that that type of fear and isolation isn’t just the mantle of one. There’s more of us than most people realize. My mother never knew either. Thank you for sharing – it helps.

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