Somewhere Off the Road

Part I

Hiking was his escape, his solace in times of stress. There had been a lot of stress lately; a muddle of questions and doubts. He could try to out-walk it all, but he knew it was always there. It was even there somewhere south of Cleveland, Tennessee: one road after another, each one more bumpy than the last. He had left the old Ford way behind. Stone after stone went by – his downcast eyes stayed on the inclined dirt. This didn’t seem more than a footpath.

This is someone’s property, but I didn’t see any signs. You know what - I don’t care, I have to get away for a while. I’m not doing any harm. If they take me away, they would be doing me a huge favor. Wait, that's stupid –

He fished out his smartphone. Dang! Service, but the battery’s on empty and no car charger in the Ford. Why did I forget to charge it? --- I’m walking. I HAVE to walk. Ella’s fourteen, she can handle my being gone for two hours. I told her I had to get out.

Why is she so understanding?

Ella…… the absolute light of his life. Time after time she had shown what she was made of. So many setbacks! His position of seven years eliminated at the plant. Ongoing financial burdens long before that time. Suze berating him for not making more of himself and complaining about her “lifestyle”. Ella coming to talk to me every night.

I thought parents were supposed to invade teens' rooms, not the other way around. How does Ella do all this? Is this really our daughter? Two weeks ago at Riley’s Place, she left our table, walked up to a total stranger who was crying in his salad, and said ‘Hey….you might need this.’ Hugging the stranger around the neck like he was about to be sucked away in a whirlpool. Twenty seconds going on an eternity. It was embarrassing. Ella sees it a different way. Is she really my daughter? Why am I such a stone? What if I lose her, too - where will I be then?

Overcome, he sat on a large stone at the edge of the primitive road. He stared dully at a well-worn photograph taken out of his wallet.

Why am I such a stone? She. She is why I’m such a stone.

For the last time, he scanned two familiar faces beaming at him from Folly Beach sixteen years ago.

Suze Trainor, 46, Leaver.

John Trainor, 48, Loser.

She. Suze has to go "find herself”, she says. Well, find yourself here. FIND YOURSELF IN THIS FAMILY. YOU ARE HERE. YOU ARE IN. THIS. FAMILY. WHAT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY?

“I hate littering, but here you go, Road. You can have it! I don’t care!” The crumpled photograph rested in the dead center of Road, one of his two friends. Ella and Road. “I’m not even my own friend.” John was talking aloud to himself now, about himself. “I’m losing it. I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

“WHERE DO I GO FROM HERE?”

John Trainor, the 48-year-old stone, sat back on his stone companion and wept. Finally some emotion. What good would it do in front of others? It would only embarrass everybody. Loud and long he wept.

A louder roar jolted him. Oh, Lord! I guess they found me. Look up. LOOK UP! How humiliating. Face them! - What in the -

John barely caught an arc of deep blue as it descended below the ridge adjacent to him. It was a parachute, and his eyes grew with excitement. The smoke was already rising, a distance away from where the only survivor must have come down.

No sense in going to the wreck - I have to try to catch this person. What could I do without a smartphone? JUST GET UP THERE! He sprang from the rock.

It was not one valley away, but two. Picking spider webs off his clothes, John stared at the site for a long while. The man or woman was gone. If it were not for the discarded parachute, he would have tried to make it to the crash site, even without a phone. “Left the parachute….”, he mused aloud. “HEY! HELLO?” No response. “ARE YOU ALONE?” Who would do this?

His back against a tree, he sat down to think about his next move, and felt something strange under him.

Part II

“Ella, I’m so so sorry, my battery –“

“Shhhh.” Ella hugged him for an eternity: “You look like you might need this.”

John Trainor, Stone Dad, dropped to the floor in front of Ella and embarrassed himself with deep sobbing.

Part III

“So, did you find the black box? Is everyone okay? What’s in the bag?”

“Black box? A mysterious look came across his face. “No…..a little black book.”

“oooOOOOOoooo. Dad, have you been watching cheesy 80’s spy movies? Oh…..” - she broke off as Dad held the little book in front of her.

“Where did you find it?”

“Somewhere off the road.” Mysterious look.

“Details, Dad. You know I need details!”

“Details…..are in this little black book. I read it already, hope you don’t mind.”

“Shut up and Read. It. To. Me!”

John looked at Ella for a very long time with all the love in the world, and opened the book.

Dear Finder:

Forgive the brevity. You may call me ‘Alan Watterson’.

Three weeks ago I was broken. My wife took our daughter and vanished, even though I own four companies, and thousands of acres of land, including the land this aircraft will end up on. I had been treating people like property and should have known this was coming.

One day blurs into the next. I wander around a town, stop at this nondescript diner, order a meltdown. I am stuck with no way out.

Then this willowy girl just comes up to me and hugs me. For no reason other than she sees someone who needs cheering up. Knowing nothing of my circumstances, what a prick I am.

I am going to go remake my life now. I will not revisit the wreck. I will not take the black box. I will file no flight plan. You will find this one day and know I am out there. I just want to get away from the madness. What I know I have to do is go find a friend, one who will see me for me, and not for what I own.

I have placed a small brown dufflebag into the nearest hollow tree or log I can find. Happy searching. It contains $20,000 in cash. Who knows? You might need this.

Your friend, Alan

Ella slowly looked up. “Dad.....what’s ‘willowy’?”

With his tear-stained eyes shining, John Trainor smiled warmly at Ella and declared: “You and I are going to do three things: We are going to Riley’s and hug each other in public for a long time, we are going to handle your newfound money responsibly, and we are going to look for a friend of mine called Alan Watterson.”