away too long it was not only the pain that came, but nausea and cramps – the familiar companions of withdrawal. I said before John was a junkie. Now he was a strung-out criminal. The spiral kept spinning, and for him it could only spin downwards. Yet he still had a way to go before he hit bottom.”
Free fell silent. Once more Teresa felt disappointed as the tale halted. Still, Free spoke of John as if from a distance, uninvolved. Yet, paradoxically, there was great passion in the choice of words Free used to describe John’s adventures. It was as if he were telling the story on two levels simultaneously. One level for each of his listeners, perhaps, Teresa thought.
“I’d like to hear what happened next,” Teresa ventured.
Free glanced over at her. “I think we should stop soon, get a bite to eat,” he said.
They had been on the road slightly over three hours. She had gasoline left, a quarter of a tank, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to fill up. She wasn’t particularly hungry, though.
“Where would you like to stop?” she asked.
“A Seven-Eleven maybe,” Poppy said from the back seat. “An AM PM Mart. A Stop ’N’ Go.” She hadn’t made a sound while Free had talked. She hadn’t even moved.
Free slowly smiled at her suggestion.
“My favourites,” he said.
“I don’t mind stopping,” Teresa said. Free just nodded. She added, “Did John end up back in jail?”
“No,” Free said.
“When did he see Candy again?” she asked.
“Poppy told you,” Free said. “On a dark and stormy night.”
“Was it much later?” Teresa asked.
Free showed impatience. “Much later than what? Than when he started taking heroin? Than when Candy had her baby? Those are all relative events, it’s true, but they're not necessarily relative to each other. Time doesn't always move in the same straight line for everybody. When you're in pain time moves real slow. John was in constant pain. Time for him was walking up a steep hill.”
“Candy wasn’t exactly coasting along on a bicycle,” Poppy quipped.
Free turned round. “You're the one who said how happy she was after she had her kid.”
“I said how much she loved her little boy,” Poppy said. “You can have love and still have plenty of pain. I’d say they usually go together.”
Free wasn’t interested in continuing the argument.
He turned back to face front and put his hand on Teresa’s leg. His fingers were warm now; she felt the warmth through her trouser leg. Or maybe it was his electricity entering her body, his magnetism. There was no denying it, sitting beside him, listening to him, she found him more and more attractive. Clearly, he was not romantically involved with Poppy. If he was they had the weirdest relationship she had ever seen. Free smiled at her.
“I want to hear the rest of your story,” he said. “ Everything that happened to you and Bill.”
The way he put emphasis on the word everything made her uneasy but she rolled with it. It wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of, she thought. She had every intention of telling them everything that happened, at least everything she could remember.
But it was only tonight. Of course I can remember tonight.
Teresa reached up and scratched her head, feeling once again how clammy her skin was, how hot she was. It was her illness – that was why her memory was off a little. So she couldn't say exactly what had happened just before she left. It would come to her as she talked, and if it didn't, what was the harm? She had enough facts to convince them that Bill was a bastard and that Rene was a bitch.
“I thought you wanted to eat first,” Teresa said.
“I do,” Free said. “Then it’s your turn to talk. Then we’ll stop and visit my mom.” He grinned again. “You’ll like my mom. She lives in a big stone house by the sea. She can read fortunes.”
Teresa laughed. “You believe in that garbage?”
Free laughed with her. “There’s so much of it in the
Free fell silent. Once more Teresa felt disappointed as the tale halted. Still, Free spoke of John as if from a distance, uninvolved. Yet, paradoxically, there was great passion in the choice of words Free used to describe John’s adventures. It was as if he were telling the story on two levels simultaneously. One level for each of his listeners, perhaps, Teresa thought.
“I’d like to hear what happened next,” Teresa ventured.
Free glanced over at her. “I think we should stop soon, get a bite to eat,” he said.
They had been on the road slightly over three hours. She had gasoline left, a quarter of a tank, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to fill up. She wasn’t particularly hungry, though.
“Where would you like to stop?” she asked.
“A Seven-Eleven maybe,” Poppy said from the back seat. “An AM PM Mart. A Stop ’N’ Go.” She hadn’t made a sound while Free had talked. She hadn’t even moved.
Free slowly smiled at her suggestion.
“My favourites,” he said.
“I don’t mind stopping,” Teresa said. Free just nodded. She added, “Did John end up back in jail?”
“No,” Free said.
“When did he see Candy again?” she asked.
“Poppy told you,” Free said. “On a dark and stormy night.”
“Was it much later?” Teresa asked.
Free showed impatience. “Much later than what? Than when he started taking heroin? Than when Candy had her baby? Those are all relative events, it’s true, but they're not necessarily relative to each other. Time doesn't always move in the same straight line for everybody. When you're in pain time moves real slow. John was in constant pain. Time for him was walking up a steep hill.”
“Candy wasn’t exactly coasting along on a bicycle,” Poppy quipped.
Free turned round. “You're the one who said how happy she was after she had her kid.”
“I said how much she loved her little boy,” Poppy said. “You can have love and still have plenty of pain. I’d say they usually go together.”
Free wasn’t interested in continuing the argument.
He turned back to face front and put his hand on Teresa’s leg. His fingers were warm now; she felt the warmth through her trouser leg. Or maybe it was his electricity entering her body, his magnetism. There was no denying it, sitting beside him, listening to him, she found him more and more attractive. Clearly, he was not romantically involved with Poppy. If he was they had the weirdest relationship she had ever seen. Free smiled at her.
“I want to hear the rest of your story,” he said. “ Everything that happened to you and Bill.”
The way he put emphasis on the word everything made her uneasy but she rolled with it. It wasn’t as if she had anything to be ashamed of, she thought. She had every intention of telling them everything that happened, at least everything she could remember.
But it was only tonight. Of course I can remember tonight.
Teresa reached up and scratched her head, feeling once again how clammy her skin was, how hot she was. It was her illness – that was why her memory was off a little. So she couldn't say exactly what had happened just before she left. It would come to her as she talked, and if it didn't, what was the harm? She had enough facts to convince them that Bill was a bastard and that Rene was a bitch.
“I thought you wanted to eat first,” Teresa said.
“I do,” Free said. “Then it’s your turn to talk. Then we’ll stop and visit my mom.” He grinned again. “You’ll like my mom. She lives in a big stone house by the sea. She can read fortunes.”
Teresa laughed. “You believe in that garbage?”
Free laughed with her. “There’s so much of it in the
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