From a story called, "Lucille"
Thursday, October 18, 2007 at 05:07PM 
My parents were worried about winter roads but I wondered what they'd say if they knew I was bringing Lucille. They were thinking about snow tires and I was trying to figure out how I could be cool for an entire weekend. Seems like we were always on different paths.
I picked her up at three, she had a spare last period. I lied and told my mom I had one too. The Pontiac was packed, mom made me put a snowmobile suit in the trunk and emergency candles in the glove compartment.
"Did your dad ask?"
Lucille didn't say anything. She just fired up a smoke and placed it between those gorgeous lips.
"It's only about an hour if the roads are good." I cringed, sounding like my father telling a story.
"My little sister was crying this morning," she said in-between puffs. "Tears and snot were running down her cheeks into her fruit loops."
"Did you bury Chester?"
"It was gross."
I stopped myself from asking if she meant the dog or her sister.
The highway was bone dry, the sun glared down out of cloudless sky.
"I don't know what the hell they were worrying about. Look at this." I laughed and swept my hand over the dashboard. My laughter bounced around the inside of the car and sunk into the backseat. I felt it go there. Lucille crushed her smoke into the ashtray.
An hour later, we reached the entrance to the provincial park. The road in was covered with a layer of dirty snow.
"I've been here. When I was a kid," Lucille said.
"My cousin pulled a 12-pack for me. I hope it didn't freeze, probably not, I wrapped the snowmobile suit around it." I always went on too long, it was like I didn't want to stop talking because if I did I was worried she wouldn't say anything, or worse, that she would.
Gravel and snow crunched under the tires as I drove through the gate. As I came to the last turn before our road my chest went tight and a piss shiver went right through me. How the hell had I got her to agree to coming and what the hell was I going to do with her? It wasn't like those stupid stories in the magazines where eyes ignited and the man and the woman are consumed with passion.
How do people even believe that?
Reader Comments (2)
keep it coming. Reading-wise, the roads are clear and the sky is blue.
thanks Mark - seems I am always writing about clear blue skies, a good sign perhaps?