Jerk, California by Jonathan Friesen

Author:Jonathan Friesen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group USA, Inc.

Saturday comes and a glow lights up the eastern horizon. My stomach drops.

It’s leaving day.

I place my shoe box on the front seat. A barn cat leaps onto the hood and cocks its head.

“No reason to do this. None. It’s not like George gives a rip anymore.”

I kick truck tires and run my hands through my hair.“What do you think, cat? Crazy is one thing. Stupid’s another.” I shuffle up the steps of the farmhouse. Haven’t been inside George’s part since The Night. Don’t want to be here now, but I need to unplug stuff.

“Nothing’s changed,” I whisper. But everything’s changed. I walk over to his rocker, and sit down beside it.

“Why’d you leave me?” I say, and close my eyes. Inside, I panic. I feel the sudden urge to catch George. I open my eyes and lunge for the empty chair, but he’s not there. I rest my head on the seat, push back and forth.

I don’t hear him, only the creak of where he was and will never be again. I lift my head. “Crazy Old Coot.” I slap the seat and stand up. “Changed my mind. You left me alone? Well, I’m leaving this trip alone, too. Like I want to wander around California.”

Goin’ back to bed. I walk toward the door and pause at the bookshelf.

His books are huge. Thicker than the A and the M encyclopedia combined. “Bet you weigh a ton.” I grab a massive book; heft it up and down before replacing it on the shelf. I scan the titles, and step back to see the lowest row. Photo albums.

I kneel down and flip through a series of black-and-whites.

Young George. These should pass some time.

I stack ten dusty albums, rise, and lug my load toward the front door. I push out, squint and blink in someone’s high beams.

“Hello?” I say.

“I made it!” Lights speak with Naomi’s voice.“Are you packing?” She eases out of the car and leans forward on the open car door. I blink sunspots out of my eyes. She looks like a car ad from a magazine.

“Yeah. But I decided I shouldn’t.” I make no sense, so I quit.

My feet stick to the steps like they had all week, only this time there’s no crying woman. It’s worse. It’s silent and Naomi watches me, my arms full, shoulders and face twitching. She stands there all pleasant like, and there’s no figuring what she thinks.

“Are you taking the truck?” She nods toward her grandpa’s rustbucket.

“Thought I would, but I’m not sure it’s such a good idea.”

She slams her door and the barn cat scrambles inside the cab. Naomi wanders toward the truck, leans over, and caresses the lettering on the side. “‘By George.’ This old thing has been parked at our place ever since I can remember—I bet the truck’ll make it.”

She straightens, bites her lip, and throws back her hair. “I bet it could even carry two.”

I hadn’t planned on taking the cat. “Suppose it could.”

Her face brightens. She bounces up to me, stops way too close.

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