Riding With A Stranger

    Part II

     Anna stares out the passenger window, watching the rows of the corn fields fly by. The fading sun burns hot on her thighs, the khaki, polyester blend pants are hot to the touch, even though the air conditioner in the car has been working overtime since they left.
     She thinks of her son, a tall, dark haired, young man that they have left behind this day. He is smart, and successful, and he loves his mother dearly. He is a good man. A good father. An even better husband than he was a son, which he also excelled at. They have been visiting this day, spending time with a tiny tornado of a grandson, who sings out, "Grammie!" when he wants something out of reach and clings to her neck like a scarf on a cold day. Her heart is full. Nearly overflowing with love.
     Jeff and Grace and little Ben have filled the reserves again, and this will have to last for almost a whole month, because it is summer time, and there are vacations and parties and weddings in the mix. She is happy, happy that they got the weekend, but also, she is melancholy. A month is such a long time when the child is so little, and she wonders what new things he will learn in the time before they are able to see him again. Leaving is always like this. Happy, sad, tired, exhilarated, a study in opposites.
     Beside her, Frank reaches for her hand, knowing her well. Knowing that she is savoring each hug, even while wishing for ten more. Frank knows. He told her once that it is the same for him. He has also reminded her to be thankful that they are so close, Jeff's family. They have friends who see their children and grandchildren only on major holidays, so to take heart and remember that they are an hour's drive away. That Jeff and Grace are more than willing to strap the Cyclone Benjamin into his car seat in the back of their SUV and come to visit. That Jeff calls often and always puts little Ben on the phone to say, "hi" to his Grammie and Gramps. She knows all of this. She understands what it is like for some. She is sad, just the same.
     So, down the highway they go, holding hands, toward home.
     She distracts herself from her sorrowful thoughts by thinking of home. The yard work that is waiting, the washing that needs done. She has been thinking of painting the laundry room again, maybe a buttery yellow. Perhaps she will wait until Jeff comes, so she will have help and company.
     The darkening sky and the lull of the tires against the pavement are tough to fight against after this day, and Anna closes her eyes and thinks of Ben and his big as a saucer, brown eyes. She does not know how long her eyes have been closed when something wakes her, something about the way Frank slows the car without braking, something from inside her telling her to pay attention.
     The lone figure that ducks down into the ditch up ahead is small. Even from her passenger seat, she can see that it is a woman. She says nothing to Frank, only fixes her eyes upon this creature and as they grow closer, she knows that this is not a woman, really, just a girl. A girl with a white tank top and blue jeans. A girl with messy, dark hair and some sort of heavy looking boots. A girl that they are now passed, so Anna watches in the side mirror, as the girl climbs out of the ditch and keeps walking down the road.
     "Frank." Anna says, breaking the silence.
     "Hmm?"
     "Frank, that was a girl." Her lips purse. She has known him too long to think that he does not know what she is about to say.
     "Anna....no. We don't know what the story is."
     "Frank." She insists again.
     "Anna." He answers back.
     Anna crosses her arms. This is her version of drawing a line in the imaginary sand. Frank knows this. He has remarked upon it several times throughout their years together.
     "Anna, stop it. Of all the things to argue about, I'm not going to argue about this. It's dark."
     "Um hmmm." She answers, lips pursed.
     "Anna, it's not safe."
     "Nothing is these days. But that shouldn't stop us from giving help where it's needed."
     "I didn't see a car for miles back there. Where did she come from? Did you think of that?" Frank is frustrated, she can tell.
     "Exactly." Anna nods, because her husband has just made her point for her.
     Frank makes a discouraged noise. Silence descends upon the silver sedan. Minutes pass in a hush. They descend a hill, approaching a stoplight at the bottom, and Frank brings the car to a crawl. This is a dangerous stretch of highway, Anna knows. Crosses litter the ditches on both sides of the road, memorials to people they she does not know, but feels broken-hearted for all the same.
     "What if we'd had a daughter?" Anna almost whispers. "What if that was our girl?" In her peripheral vision, she sees him look over to her.
     "No daughter of mine would be out walking on a barely used highway at night." He spits back.
     "You would hope."
     "What makes you think she would take a ride from us? I'm pretty sure I would have also taught our daughter not to ride with strangers."
     "What makes you think she has any choice?" Anna retorts.
     Frank doesn't respond, just eases the car through the intersection and pulls ahead some distance before letting up on the gas and pulling over to the shoulder. They don't talk, they just wait. Anna knows that Frank is irritated. She knows that he is hoping the girl goes to the right of the intersection, not the left where they are parked and waiting. Something in Anna knows that this is not the case.
     The girl approaches their car, and it looks to Anna as if she is surprised to see it sitting in her path. Frank rolls the window down and calls out to her. The girl looks pensive and scared and dirty, and Frank clicks on the interior light of the car to show her that they are just Frank and Anna. Just two people in a car, headed in the direction of the town, on a humid summer night.
     The girl declines their offer, and Anna feels Frank is ready to roll up the window and move along, so she pushes the button at her side to release her seat belt, and steps out the door onto the pavement.
     "At least let us take you to the gas station. You can call someone from there." Anna tells her. Again, the girl declines. Anna studies her face in the dull light from the car. She is so young. "I've had car trouble before, too, Honey. It's no problem. Get in." Anna opens the passenger side rear door. "Get in. I promise we just want to help. I saw you back there and we've been arguing about turning around to find you ever since." Anna swallows, searching her mind for something to say to sooth this girl.
     "I'm Anna, this is my husband Frank." Anna watches as the girl climbs into the seat. She takes her own place on the passenger side, smiling because she has won this battle. She discovers, after closing her door, that they now have to say something to this stranger in the car. The strange girl who smells like sweat and vomit and dirt.
     "So you say you had car trouble?" Frank breaks the silence.
     "Uh huh." From the now dark back seat.
     "Do you want me to go back and take a look at it?" Frank asks.
     "Oh sure!" Anna chirps cheerfully. "Frank knows a little about cars, maybe it's something easy!" Thinking that this could be a quick fix, taking nothing but a little time and a little gas, Anna has forgotten that there was no car by the side of the road.
     "Ah....no....it's....I'm not sure." Hesitation fills the silence, and Anna knows that they have been duped. She spins in her seat and stares into the darkness, eyes searching. She stares a good long time. Her eyes have taken in the filth, and the grime of the road. She can smell the motor oil and gasoline and cigarette smoke and Anna catches a quick glimpse of a road map of bruises up the girl's arm. The girl is staring down at her lap, her dirty hands folded together and fidgeting with her fingernails. Anna turns back to face forward.
     Her heart knows. Her soul calls out to her and makes her remember things that she does not want to remember. She reaches for Frank in the darkness of the interior of the car. She squeezes his arm and tries to tell him, telepathically, "That is me, there, in the backseat. That is what you saved me from, what I ran away from and what I never want to see again." But there is only silence in the car. Frank can not read her mind, this day, or any other.
     She lies, makes up an excuse to stop. She says that she is thirsty, and Anna understand that Frank is confused because they are only a few miles from home and Anna would wait. Frank is a good man, and he says nothing, only pulls over into the turn lane and pulls into the gas station.
    The girl says that she wants nothing. Under the glaring lights of the gas station Anna sees what no one else could. This girl, this ragamuffin child, she needs rescuing. She needs care and help and to be shown that the world, while cruel, can also be kind. The girl needs someone to reach out. Anna decides that today, she will be that someone. So she lets the girl lie to her once more, about the location of her purse this time, and waves it off like it is nothing. Because it IS nothing. The girl has a layer of pride underneath all that dirt, and tries to tell Anna that she will walk from here. What the girl does not know, what she can never know, is that Anna has lied, too. She has lied about bruises and she has lied about car trouble and she has lied about accidents that were nothing of the kind.
     "Honey," Anna offers, "I've had car trouble before, too." She breaths deeply. "I mean, there are car troubles, and then there are car troubles. Let me get you something to drink." It is less of a request this time, and more of an order. Anna is unwilling to let this girl go.
     They go into the gas station, the girl heads for the bathroom and Anna heads for Frank.
     "Thank you." She says, touching the back of his arm. "Thanks."
     Frank shrugs his answer. It is nothing, but it is everything all at once for Anna. She knows that Frank has forgiven her for being stubborn. She smiles and watches him reach for a bottle of cold Pepsi.
     "Think this is okay?" He asks.
     Anna nods. The girl has not told them what she wants.
     The three of them get back into the car. The girl tells Frank where she wants to be taken, but Anna barely hears. She is lost in thought, lost in another time, a lifetime ago. A time when she, herself, lived with bruises on her arms. She is not that woman anymore. She would not recognize that woman if she met her face to face. Anna only knows that when she thinks of the girl, she thinks of the police woman who stood in between a man and herself and offered peace and sanctuary to Anna. A stranger who offered her a ride to a better life. A stranger who did not mind the blood leaking slowly out of Anna's nose, or the salty tears that fell while she sat in the passenger seat. A stranger who pressed a tissue into Anna's left hand, and held her right hand all the way to the door of a woman's shelter. She thinks of the kindness she received and the scary feelings of starting over with nothing. Of her first job interview and of running into the monster in a grocery store, many years later, with little Jeff strapped into her cart, and of unbuckling him and running for the door. She had left behind a cart full of Cheerios's and milk and yogurt, but she strapped Jeffy into the car seat and never looked back. For a long time afterwards, she drove miles out of the way to avoid that grocery store.
     They pull up to a small house on a quiet street, headlights shining on the back of a small black pickup.
     "You're sure?" Anna asks her.
     "Yeah, this is my house." The girl answers, not meeting Anna's eyes. Anna reaches out for her hand. And presses into it the secret fifty dollar bill that she has hidden from Frank.
     "I can't." The girl says, "I can't take money from strangers."
     Anna smiles. Pride is a hard nut to crack and this girl has not been raised on hand outs, something that makes Anna know that it is even more important that she takes the money.
    "We're not strangers, Honey. We're Frank and Anna." Anna turns and opens her car door. "And sometimes a little help from a stranger is all that it takes."
    Anna and Frank drive away, leave the girl next to the curb. Anna watches in the mirror until she can not see the stranger's figure there any longer.