A white pickup truck appears in the rearview mirror. It\u2019s barreling out of the fog like it\u2019s trying to run us down. Within seconds it\u2019s rumbling in the lane next to us.<\/p>\n
The windows are down on both sides. Three bear-sized men sit shoulder to shoulder across the bench seat, each wearing a trucker\u2019s hat and a cut-off flannel or a muscle T. The one on the passenger side catches me looking. He pumps his fist and whoops, \u201cFuck yeah!\u201d He\u2019s in bad need of a shave. Flecks of tobacco spot his teeth and lips.<\/p>\n
Monica stirs from her slouch against the passenger door. She hooks her black hair with her finger and slides it behind her ear. She gets the move from her mother, who I\u2019ve watched do the same with her hair for the past twenty years. The same black hair. Hopefully the dull thump of rain on the roof and windshield and the ticking of the wipers muffle the chaos in the passing lane and she\u2019ll stay asleep.<\/p>\n
The white pickup edges ahead of us and starts to pull away. A wet dog cowers in the bed behind the cab. It looks at me, pleading with its eyes before the truck disappears into the mist and rain ahead. Its red brake lights quickly fade out of sight.<\/p>\n
Monica is awake now. \u201cWhat was that noise?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing,\u201d I say. \u201cRednecks, from the looks of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t judge,\u201d she says. \u201cWhere the fuck are we?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve heard enough of that word,\u201d I remind her. I give her a stern look but she\u2019s looking out the window. \u201cA sign a few miles back said Richmond 65. So about an hour from the state line.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her hair is matted to her pale forehead. She scratches her forearms through the purple long-sleeve shirt she had on when I picked her up.<\/p>\n
I tell her there\u2019s more napkins in the glovebox.<\/p>\n
She grabs some and wipes sweat from her face and forehead. She drops them at her feet, where the floor is growing crowded with wet paper each time she wakes up. There\u2019s a thick, dirty smell coming from her that fills the car.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s three hours from Richmond to Hephzibah House. I\u2019m not stopping. Not even for traffic. If I get pulled over, any God-loving police officer will see the good in what I\u2019m doing, especially if he\u2019s a father. I can\u2019t even think about the ways Cody defiled her. Cody and whoever else.<\/p>\n
Monica squirms behind her seatbelt and leans her head against the window. She points her knees away from me and leans into the space between the seat and the door. I had forgotten how she can shrink herself. How she\u2019d burrow in her mother\u2019s arms to nurse or nap. She\u2019s not sleeping, though. She\u2019s staring vaguely at the rain and blur of wet green trees and fields out the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is all part of His plan,\u201d I tell her. I tap the wooden cross hanging from the rearview mirror. \u201cAll this rain washing away everything and bringing new life. We\u2019re crossing a border. It\u2019s all very symbolic.\u201d I reach for her forearm and caress her beneath the soft purple shirt.<\/p>\n
She swats my hand away.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll part of His plan.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you ever think me leaving was part of whatever plan?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n
The way her voice hangs at the end of the question, she wants to say more. I won\u2019t engage. I won\u2019t give her that.<\/p>\n
\u201cAs if there\u2019s one fucking plan for everything. You don\u2019t think about a person making her own plan. Or about infinite plans playing out all at the same time. And you fucking lied to me to get me in the car. Nice plan.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u2019s further gone than we thought. She\u2019s right about the lie. \u201cI confessed that to you,\u201d I tell her. \u201cAnd I\u2019ve forgiven myself.\u00a0 It was necessary. There\u2019s a bigger scene playing out here than me lying to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWas Paula part of His plan? Or were you following your dick\u2019s plan? Either way, one of you is a massive asshole.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother and I talked about Paula. And I\u2019ve forgiven myself.\u201d Girls get wild notions at her age when they are confused.\u00a0 You expect you\u2019re going to deal with it. But if you keep your faith you can see your way through.<\/p>\n
I want to talk sense to her, but when I look over she\u2019s closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
She wanted to be found, whether she knows it or not. She couldn\u2019t have thought we wouldn\u2019t find her when she went through Western Union. Hephzibah House is still a long ways away. So there\u2019s plenty of time to talk about that. The pastor promised we\u2019d have improved relationships with her. Good character. A work ethic. Being a Godly wife and mother would follow. His program guarantees it.<\/p>\n
But one step at a time.<\/p>\n
Red brake lights materialize from the mist ahead of us. I turn up the wipers to deal with the spray coming off whatever is up there. We slowly close in on the vehicle until I can make out a white tailgate. I tap the brakes, hoping we\u2019ll fade away without anybody noticing us. I reach for Monica\u2019s forearm again and place my hand on it as gently as possible.<\/p>\n
The gas gauge reads half full. I\u2019m trying not to think about it. I\u2019m scared to stop for fear Monica will run off. Probably find any group of ruffians in a white pickup truck. Codys, all of them. She\u2019s like a magnet for trash.<\/p>\n
Please, God. Just reverse her polarity.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Was Paula part of God’s plan? Or were you following your dick\u2019s plan? Either way, one of you is a massive asshole.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":25382,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3530],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-24388","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-flash-fiction","writer-jeff-burd"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24388","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=24388"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24388\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":25383,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/24388\/revisions\/25383"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/25382"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=24388"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=24388"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=24388"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}