By Ken MacLaughlin
The sun has come all the way up; I can feel it beaming down on the back of my neck. I zip up my pants and wipe some of the sweat from my brow; it does little good. My hair is soaked; my whole body in fact. My shirt sticks to my back. I pick my bottle of Jim Beam off of the dirt and take a sip. It’s warm and burns my throat. I wish I had some water, at least as a chaser, because I feel a headache coming on. I’m having that fuzzy feeling you get when you’re somewhere between drunk and sober. I need to stay drunk and push the hangover off for a little longer. Looking out into the distance, I wonder how certain parts of America can be so different from each other. There is nothing but dirt for several hundred yards and these ugly dried bushes and shrubs. The dirt might be some kind of sand or gravel. I’m not sure. Beyond that are rocky, brown hills covered in cacti. I take another swig and turn around. The ground crunches beneath my feet with each step.
I trace my fingers along the long, smooth hood of my Chrysler when I reach it. The engine kicks and rattles the whole care under my hand. I should really pop it open and take a look, but I have to get going. Plus, Giant wouldn’t like that. He’d just think I’m stalling. I grab the handle and pause to take a breath before I get back into that sweatbox. I drop into my seat and have to peal my skin from the leather to grab the gearshift. His massive elbow hangs over the armrest and the fur itches against my skin. “Can’t you slide over a little?” He shifts his broad shoulders and chest toward his door but it makes little difference. A car passes on my right and I pull back onto the highway I am careful to watch the speedometer, we reach sixty-five and I level off.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “Speed up.”
“I don’t want to speed.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m a little drunk and we’ve just crossed into Arizona.”
“So what?”
“It’s illegal to ride with a bull in the front seat of your car in Arizona. I looked it up before we left. We just have to be careful until we get to California.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Get back up to eighty, we can’t waste anymore time.” He turns to me with his black eyes and takes a deep breath. The nostrils flare and breath heats my face. “Now.”
I face the road and wrap both hands around the steering wheel. The speedometer rises to eighty-five. “Alright. Could you at least get in the back?”
He looks in the back. I dip to the left to dodge the horn as he turns his head. “Why?”
“Just to be safe.”
“What? Do you think it’s illegal for me to be in the front but not the back?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t say anything in about the backseat. Maybe it’s okay.”
“No, I’m not getting back there. I could never fit, anyway.” He’s probably right. This is a Crown Coupe, two-door; I have trouble squeezing back there myself. Still, I‘d like him to try, it’s pretty hard to focus on driving with him next to me. He turns to me and I feel his look, “I want to stay up here. Next to you.”
I tighten my grip on the wheel and lean my face forward. Each breath seems harder to come by. It’s like my lungs need to pull this hot air all the way in just to get any oxygen at all. I wish I could turn on the air or at least roll the window down but this is how Giant likes to ride. What’s worse, the sun’s directly above the windshield as I turn the bend. I have to squint and tilt my head a little bit to keep it out of my eyes; it stings against my sunburn. I can’t keep her bright red lips out of my mind. They come in quick flashes when I close my eyes. She always kept her lipstick looking fresh and soft. I know too much lipstick can make some women look trashy, but it worked against her bronzed skin. I lick some sweat off of my lips and think of how moist hers were.
It’s been about six months since she left. She picked up and moved to San Diego for no good reason at all. It wasn’t like she had a job offer, friends or family, contacts, networks, or anything out there. She just wanted to move. A fresh start, she called it. A fresh start from what? From me? I don’t know, things were going fine. Aside from a few issues with Giant, we were as happy as could be. It was probably getting too serious for her. She always thought of herself as a beach bum. The thought of one guy for the rest of her life probably scared her. So she ran off to southern California like that state’s so much better. Too much TV, I think. She must have thought she’d go out there and live like a Laguna Beach kid. Now she’s realizing it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. She’d call and tell me how lonely she was and how much she missed me. I figured she’d have come back by now but her pride’s keeping her out there. She can’t come back to her friends and say, you’re right it was a mistake. But once I’m out there and look her in the eyes, she’ll know it’s time to come home. She won’t have any more lies for herself; she needs me to get her out of her own way.
We reach a blue pickup truck in the left lane and I have to slow down. “Jesus, get the fuck out of the fast lane,” Giant startles me. “C’mon honk at this asshole! Honk!”
“What? No.”
“Christ!” He leans over me and pounds on the wheel with his hoof. I am wedged against the door. We swerve onto the shoulder and have to pull with both hands to get us back in the lane.
“Jeez, man!” I shove him away. “What’s wrong with you?” The horn is stuck and blaring. Surrounding motorists stare at me bemused, like I’m laying on the horn for some reason. “What do I do?” I try to jiggle the horn with one hand but it doesn’t work. My eardrums feel so frail as the sound pierces right through them. I’m no longer drunk, this is a hangover. I finally rip the cover off of the wheel and pull out some wires. I am cursing to myself and to him.
He shrinks back into his seat. I tried to sound combative but that’s not what calmed him. He can tell I am stressed out and little frightened, basically on the edge. His head drops and turns to his window. “Whatever. Of course I’m in a pissy mood. You’re dragging me along on this stupid trip.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t understand you humans, especially not when it comes to your women.”
“C’mon, don’t start this now.”
“All of this compromise and understanding? What happened to your balls? She wanted to leave, let her leave and find another girl to fuck. Good riddance.”
He will not look at me. “It’s not that easy when you’re in love, Giant.”
“Fuck love. If you don’t want to lose her then strap her down and make her stay. God made you stronger than her for a reason. A woman’s job is to fuck a man. Every time I fuck it’s with no less than thirty cows. You don’t hear me listening to their feelings, do you?”
I just laugh him off. He loves to go on these kinds of rants. I think he hates just about everything, even other bulls. They’re boring and incapable of intelligent conversation according to him. That’s why Giant’s always challenging them out in the fields. He’s always at an advantage because he can stand on two feet like a boxer. He would let them charge and then avoid them like a matador. As they passed he’d connect with a jab to the back of their head causing them to drop on their face. His hoof would usually crack their skull and the fight would be over. If not, he’d leap on to them like a wrestler from the top rope and drive a horn into the back of their neck. It was quite a sight to see, honestly. He claims he has to do it to ensure the cattle remain his, but I think he likes the rush, the dominance. He likes to kill.
“Every man would be a bull,” he catches my attention again, apparently he’s still going on, “if they just had the balls. In the shower or car you all imagine yourselves just like us, killing whatever you hate, fucking whatever you want. You watch movies with John Wayne, Robert De Niro and listen to songs by 50 Cent or Snoop Dogg and pretend that you’re them. Those men were bulls. The rest of you are just pansies, wishing you could be us. But then I get dirty looks on the street. They try to shield their wives and act all chivalrous. Bullshit!”
Spend an hour with Giant and you’d think he hates everything the world. I wonder if he even likes me. I guess even a bull needs a friend.
We’re a few hours into Arizona and Giant has fallen asleep. I crack my window and air glides along my face and into my shirt. It feels like fifty degrees have been lifted from me. The breeze raises his fur in waves but he does not stir. I lean back and take another sip of bourbon. Amazingly, he’s a very gentle sleeper. He never snores, doesn’t even breath heavily. His pecs rise and expand toward the roof of the car and his head leans back over the headrest. The ring in his snout jiggles with each breath. She was never able to see these peaceful sides of him. This was my fault. She saw him only at his worst; when I wasn’t able to hide him. That’s when they’d but heads. He thought she was trying to change me and tear our friendship apart. But that really wasn’t the case. They didn’t even meet until after we dated for a year. I should have introduced them earlier. A woman will always assume the worst about something that’s been hidden from her. They didn’t have a chance to connect.
Giant rustles around and opens his eyes. “Sorry, I was out. What time is it?”
“It’s about eleven or so. We should be getting there around four.”
Giant rests his heavy forearm on the dash and looks at me like he’s trying to solve a code written on my face. I try to focus on the road. “You seem a little skittish,” he says.
“No, I’m just a little nervous. I think I’ll know what to say when I get there.”
“Oh and what‘s that?” he asks with a chuckle.
“I don’t know. Traveling all this way should say a lot. When I get there and hold her, everything will come together.”
“What about the guys she’s seeing?”
“What guy? She’s not seeing anybody.”
“What about her friend from the restaurant?” He makes air quotes with his hooves.
“That’s nothing.” I say and Giant rolls his eyes. “Don’t do this,” I say, “there’s just some thing’s we can’t come together on. I made a conscious decision to trust her. That’s what you do when enter into a relationship. You trust them and you don’t waiver; when you do the relationship is as good as dead.”
“It’s already dead, has been for months. You aren’t with her anymore,” he insists.
I pause for a moment and wipe some sweat from the back of my neck. I wish he didn’t always have to be so negative. “Not anymore, technically, but the trust thing still applies.”
“Trust? If you trust her so much then why are we coming unannounced?”
“I don’t know,” my voice cracks “to make it a surprise.” I bite into my quivering lip and take a breath.
He pounds me in the chest and I turn to him “You’re going to get there and find her fucking him. You know it.”
“Giant, just stop. If you think so then why’d you come along?” I catch a tear from falling any further down my face.
“I came for the same reason that you invited me.”
“What? I invited you because I needed company”
“You’ve got plenty of friends that would have come with you.”
“Yeah, but you’re my best friend.”
“Bullshit! You’ve spent three years hiding me from her. Now that you’re desperate to get her back, why would you bring me along? No way. I’m not your best friend and haven’t been for years.”
“Maybe by bringing you I could show her that you’re actually a decent guy.”
“Bullshit. You don’t even think I’m a decent guy. You’re just using me.”
“For what?”
“You know that I hate her. She was always in the mirror with that red lipstick; flaunting it in my face. I couldn’t do anything to her because she was with you and she knew it.” Tears swell up in my eyes. “But she’s not with you anymore is she?”
I shake my head, no. This headache feels like it‘s going to come out of my skull. Some sweat has gotten in my eye and it burns. Giant says: “So admit it to me now, why did you bring me along?”
Through blurry vision a see a sign on the right that reads san diego: 347 miles.
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