Don Perkins, squinting against the evening sun, looked long and hard into the rearview mirror of his 1980 Jeep Wagoneer. Ahead of him, it was all idyllic sunsets and fresh breezes, but just a few miles behind were dark skies and a clear rain curtain. He knew he should have checked the weather before leaving his hotel. The flat plains of Kansas were no place to be during a storm. There was little risk of a twister, he knew, it wasn’t the season. The summer months had passed, and it was late into October. He’d have liked to have spent the day taking in the trees in all their autumn splendor, but unfortunately he found himself in the middle of a long journey through a land where trees seemed hard to come by.
Setting out from Boston, he was now on the third and hopefully final day of his journey home to Denver. A younger Don could have made the trip in one long go, but unfortunately the 1960s had long passed and he was a man out of time with a body that refused to adapt like everything else in the world. For his own sake, and at the request of the family, he’d become a much more cautious man in recent years.
Taking another glance back at the storm which was growing ever closer, the first mist beginning to cover his arm which hung out the open window, he let out a long sigh. After adjusting his green John Deere cap and stroking the gray of his short beard, he gave the faux wood paneling on the door a reassuring pat and rolled up the window just as the first droplets began pelting the vehicle. He squeezed the steering wheel tight, hands at eleven and one.
“Don’t you worry, old girl. We’ll make it through like always,” Don said quietly. Over forty years spent with his beloved car had led him to attribute a personality to it. The Wagoneer was something like an old barmaid who’d worked too many hours and had become meaner than fire but still filled out every order on time because there was a job to be done. In all the years, the car had never broken down on him, though Don felt a little reassurance couldn’t hurt in this case.
By now, it was really coming down outside, and Don set the wipers to their maximum speed and reduced that of the car so as to avoid stumbling upon any potential danger too quickly. Always give yourself the count of five-Mississippi to think in case of emergency, his father had said. If you don’t give yourself enough time to spot danger, you’ll end up in a world of trouble. He’d then added: If you give yourself any longer, you’ll either look like a fool when nothing happens, or you’ll feel like a fool when something does and you had all the time in the world to prevent it.
Don estimated that he had somewhere around two-Mississippi to avoid striking the misshapen form that charged across the road in front of him. By some miracle, the reflexes of his younger self were briefly revived, and he managed to swing the car out of the way and come screeching to a halt just past whatever the thing was. The coat of rain on the windshield and the speed at which the shape moved had made it impossible to determine what it was that had almost killed him, but it had appeared to be white.
While he was still wondering if the pace of his heartbeat might do him in, a loud knocking at the window caused him to jump and he became certain he would experience a heart attack if anything else surprising happened. Looking through the window, the mysterious white form took shape. It was a woman in a wedding dress. She pounded vigorously on the window, pointing toward the backseat. Don’s first instinct was to put the pedal to the floor and get away from all this as soon as possible, but the distraught look on the woman’s face tugged at heartstrings he didn’t know he still had, and he unlocked the car.
The woman threw open the door and clambered into the backseat. She tore off her veil and wiped her soaked face, leaving trails of makeup to run down from her eyes and cheeks. The mud on her heels and the hem of her dress indicated she’d run a fair distance across the open fields.
“Drive,” she said forcefully.
“What?”
“Drive. Please.”
“Now hold on a minute, I want to know exactly what’s…”
“DRIVE!”
“Alright, alright! Don’t blow your top!”
Don put the car in gear and pushed to the maximum speed he felt was safe in weather like this, that being somewhere between thirty and forty miles-per-hour. If the woman wanted to go faster, then she could drive. Fortunately, she made no comment on his speed. Really, she made no comment at all and simply stared out the window at the slowly flooding plains, a mix of rainwater, mascara, and perhaps tears covering her face. She kept her dress bunched up and was slouched over, wearing a look that bespoke a myriad of conflicting feelings. It was a look Don recognized.
To hell with this silent crap, he thought. “So, is there any place you’re wanting to go exactly?”
“Just take me to the nearest town. I can find a motel or something there,” the woman said softly.
“Well, that would be back the direction we came. There’s not another town with a decent place to stay for another hour or two this way.”
“No,” the woman said quickly, leaning forward with wide bloodshot eyes. “I can’t go back that way.” She rubbed her hands together. “I can just get out here.” She began reaching for the door even though the car was still moving.
Don raised a hand and an eyebrow. “Now hold on, hold on! We don’t have to go back that way. I’m headed out much farther than an hour in this direction anyhow. I can get you where you need to go.” He shook his head. Why was he suddenly obliging this strange woman?
“Oh… thank you.”
Again, there was silence, save the pouring of the rain and the rhythm of the windshield wipers.
Don cleared his throat. “I’m Don.”
No response.
“And you are?”
At first, nothing. Then: “Lily Everett. No, Stevenson. Lily Stevenson”
Don looked back at her through the mirror. “Uh-huh. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Stevenson.” He paused. “Do you, uh, want to tell me what you were doing out in a storm all dressed up like that?”
Lily Everett-Stevenson rubbed her face and shook her head. “No, not really.”
Don nodded. “Fair enough. I guess I’d just like to know about the strange young lady who nearly caused an old geezer to wreck his prized Wagoneer.”
Lily sighed. “I was at a wedding and I had to… leave.”
Don’s train of thought briefly shifted to his distaste of modern weddings. All those young couples getting married in barns out in the country. What happened to church weddings where you got married before the Lord? Ignorance, all of it. He took a deep breath and forced himself to worry about things that were actually relevant. He didn’t feel like a crotchety old husk yet and he would make an effort not to act like one.
“Are you married?” Don asked.
“Excuse me?”
Don shrugged. “I’m assuming you were the bride, what with that dress and all. Had you gotten married before you left? You know, said your vows?”
Lily sighed and laid down across the backseat, staring up at the ceiling. “No. I left before I was even supposed to walk down the aisle.” She bit her lip. “My parents are probably worried sick… or furious. Probably furious.”
“What about your husband? Or fiancé, I should say.”
“I… don’t know.”
“So, was he not a good guy or…” Don stopped himself. This was probably too much. He wanted to hit himself when Lily began crying, still laying across the backseat. “I’m sorry, I… we don’t have to talk about…”
“No, no, it’s alright,” she said through quick breaths. “He’s a good man. A very good man.”
So, why’d you leave him? Don thought.
Lily seemed to sense his question and took a deep, raspy breath. “I’m not ready for this,” she said, trying to wipe away streaks of mascara and tears that were beginning to dot the white of her dress. “I just… he’s so great and I’m…” she stumbled over several words, trying to find one that fit. “...really freaking messed up.”
“Messed up?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“With all due respect, Miss Stevenson, I’ve lived a lot longer on this Earth than you.” Why was he pressing her? A voice in his head told him to let it go, but one in his chest said to continue. “Try me.”
Lily fought back a series of sniffles. “It’s… I can’t… be… I can’t be happy. I’m… not right. Some days it's fine and some days it…” Tears began flowing again as she sat up and pulled her legs against her torso. “Oh God, it sucks.” Whether due to being cold and wet, emotionally exhausted, or some combination of both, she trembled terribly.
Don listened quietly. Now wasn’t the time to speak. Years spent alone with only his thoughts had taught him the value of silence.
“People say nice things to me and they give me advice,” Lily continued. “I talk to all the smart people they tell me to… and it all just reminds me that I’m another item on a list of things for people to worry about. I don’t want…” She gasped for air, her body and mind fighting one another. “I don’t want the most wonderful person I know to spend the rest of his life thinking about whether I’m okay or not. I do that enough by myself.” She made a noise that betrayed a flood of sobs being held back by the thinnest of margins. “I hate it. I’m a real piece of shit.”
The sobs came in force for several minutes.
Eventually, the well dried up and she gave a long sigh. Don noticed her body relax just a little as she now sat slouched in the seat rather than bunched up. Saying things helps, someone had once told him, whether you’re the one saying it or she is.
“You see this picture up here?” He pointed to the small black and white photo with flayed edges that he’d nestled some ten years ago in the crack between the rearview mirror and its outer shell. It was of a young woman, somewhere in her mid-twenties if he remembered correctly. “That’s my wife, Helen.”
Lily remained slouched over in the backseat, moving only her eyes to glance at the photo before lowering them quickly once again. “She seems nice,” she muttered.
Don nodded. “She was. Clever too. She could match wits with the best of ‘em. If you got into an argument with her, it didn't matter whether it was serious or just over what to have for dinner, you'd better have hoped you’d done your research because she was like a hawk. Any flaw, any little gap in your logic, she’d see it and make you pay for it.” He laughed softly. “Made for wonderful company though. And much more beyond that, of course.”
Don looked back and could see Lily still disinterested. Best not to ramble on forever like an old coot. Damn, he was getting old.
“Anywho, we were married for fifty years, me and her. Most of the time it was joyful, sometimes it wasn’t, but we always made it through. We had a son, Robert. He lives in Boston now which is actually where I’m coming from.”
“And you lived happily ever after. I get it.” Lily held her head in her hand and rubbed around her temples, avoiding eye contact through the mirror.
Don sighed. “Well, you’d think so. I wish we did. Somewhere around ten years ago, Helen started getting confused. It wasn’t bad at first, but as time went on, she only got worse. Some days it was alright, some days it wasn’t. We talked to all the doctors, and they said it was Alzheimer’s I think. Robert wanted to have her moved over by him into assisted living or something like that, but I thought it would be best for her to stay with me where things were familiar. We argued about it. Then we just fought. Three years ago he finally won out after Helen had a fall while I was out and there was no one around to help her.
Long story short, I blamed myself, and I think Robert agreed. He wouldn’t call me or answer when I called him. We haven’t spoken since. Last week his wife called me and said Helen didn’t have much time left, so I made the trip to Boston. She died a few days later, and we had the funeral. My son and I never said a word to one another.”
He squeezed his eyes closed briefly, inhaling sharply as he suppressed a flood of emotion. One distraught passenger in the car was enough. “And now I’m back out here. On my way home.”
Don glanced back to see Lily finally sitting upright. She shifted her gaze back and forth quickly from him to her hands which were now as mascara-smeared as her face. “I’m… sorry. That must be hard.”
Don nodded. “Oh yes. But I think it was harder for her, honestly. You see, even with all the stuff going on in her head, Helen still had a moment every once in a while where she’d remember something. Not everything, but something. If you met her at the right time, you could get her to almost be like she was before. One of the last coherent things she’d said to me before they took her out to Boston was that she was angry. Angry at herself for not being able to do anything. Angry that she was the way she was.
Eventually, I said to her ‘Helen: You’ve got to love you for you. And if that’s not enough then I need you to love you for me, because if you don’t put any value on yourself then you’re saying my love doesn’t go to anything valuable. And that’s simply not true because only something with a hell of a lot of value could have kept my life in order all these years.’ Then, while she was still with it, I played her favorite song on our old guitar. I played again for her last week while she was still here, but I don’t know if she was with it then or not. I suppose that’s not really relevant.”
For five minutes, there was yet again silence in the car. The wind whistled around the old Wagoneer and the rain continued to pound. Lily went back to crying for a bit, but it was softer now. Don kept his eyes ahead for fear of looking back and joining the young woman. He’d shed enough tears for one lifetime over the past week.
“You… You said you played guitar?” Lily’s voice came softly.
“That’s right. Not particularly well but I can strum a few chords.” He wondered what she was thinking. “It’s somewhere in the trunk behind you if you want to give it a try. A little music wouldn’t hurt, I guess. I’d play the radio, but you never know what you’re going to get with these modern musicians.”
There was the sound of shuffling and Don could see Lily leaning over the backseat, rummaging around the trunk. Eventually she pulled out a world-weary acoustic guitar that desperately needed sanding and a new coat of polish. Oh, please be gentle with that, he thought.
“My mom taught me to play,” Lily said, crossing her legs beneath her dress and cradling the guitar. “It’s been a while though.”
She plucked at the strings and spent a minute tuning the guitar to her liking before beginning a definite song. Then she began to sing in a scratchy, worn-out voice that was nonetheless beautiful. Don recognized the tune: An old folk piece, “The Parting Glass.”
Of all the money I ever had
I spent it in good company
And all the harm I ever done
It was to none but me
And all I’ve done for want of wit
To memory now I can’t recall
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be to you all.
The song went on for several minutes, and Lily strummed wordless on the guitar for a long time after, tears cascading down the strings as she went. In the front seat, Don turned his face away from the mirror and tried to hide tears of his own. Helen had loved that one. The longest silence of all followed that, and eventually Don found himself turning off of the empty main road and onto the main street of a small agrarian town. Near the square was an old motel that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the seventies. It wasn’t exactly luxury, but Lily would be safe in a town like this. Pulling into an empty spot, Don turned off the car and sat back with a sigh, unsure of where to go next.
“What am I going to do?” Lily said quietly behind him. “I’m a mess.”
Don turned in his seat to really look back at her for the first time since picking her up. Visually, she fit her own description. Her mascara ran from her swollen eyes and had been smeared all over her face and hands. The bottom of her dress was caked in mud, and she held her once-white heels beside her. Her hair had come out of its bun and was pasted unevenly to the sides of her face from the rain.
Don took in a sharp breath. “Does your husband love you? Er, fiancé I mean.”
“What?”
“Does he love you?”
Lily nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice cracking.
“Does he know that you’re… a mess?”
“I… yes… he knows.”
“And do you love him?”
“Yes.”
Don opened his door and trudged quickly through the rain. He opened the back door and shuffled in beside Lily. “Then I need you to listen to me. Your love is going to get him through the hardest times in his life. Life is going to pick him up, chew him thoroughly, and spit him back out like it’s nothing. I understand you know something about that, maybe too much. But I’ll tell you this: The best thing about marriage, a good one anyway, is that it’s a two-way street. He’s going to do everything in his power to pick you up when you get spit out, not because you’re weak, but because without you he would be. And the same’s true for when you pick him up. I told you what I said to my wife before she left?”
Lily nodded, trembling.
“I would like to amend that statement. Just a bit. Love you for you and for him, warts and all. I think it takes both to get by. Always remember that.” He opened the door and began to step out but a hand grabbed his shirt.
“What do I even say to him? After this…” Her eyes were wide and pleading.
Don smiled softly. “You said he really loves you, right? I don’t think a day or two delay in the marriage would stop a man like that.”
She released him and he went inside to speak with the woman at the check-in counter, Lily trailing behind him, barefoot holding her muddy heels. He arranged for her to have a room for the night, one with a phone so she could call her parents, fiancé, or whoever. It was beginning to darken outside, and Don was suddenly feeling the length of the day, so he ordered a coffee and sat down in the waiting area across from the desk. Lily lingered near him, rubbing her hands together.
She pursed her lips. “I… don’t really know what to say. Thank you… Don… and I’m sorry for…”
Don shook his head and waved a hand as he sipped his coffee. “Ah, don’t worry about it. It was nice to have some company. You made a lonely old fool’s day much more interesting, that’s for sure.”
For the first time, she smiled at him. He smiled back. Then, she leaned down beside him in his chair and pulled him into a tight embrace. He gently returned it and patted her softly on the shoulder.
“You should go call your folks and get some sleep,” he said as she withdrew. “You’ve had a long day, and I wager you’ll have another one tomorrow. They’ll be angry at first but then just glad you’re okay. Trust me, I know from experience.”
She nodded and smiled again, waving as she disappeared out the door, running through the rain to get to her room. Don watched her as long as he could and then turned his attention back to the coffee. He didn’t much feel like drinking it now.
Leaning forward over the table, he closed his eyes, listening to the rhythmic squeaking of the ceiling fan above, and began to quietly hum.
Of all the friends I ever had
They are sorry for my going away
And all the sweethearts that I ever had
They’d wish me one more day to stay
But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I’ll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all.
They’ll be angry at first but then just glad you’re okay.
Don stared at his half empty coffee mug, then looked outside toward the car. The rain had begun to subside, and a glint of moonlight reflected off the front bumper. The old barmaid seemed ready for anything. He peered off in the direction Lily had gone. She loved her husband and was going back for him.
Going back.
Because she loved.
With a deep breath, Don downed the rest of his coffee, set the mug resolutely on the table, and marched out the door to his trusty Wagoneer. He pulled out of the motel lot and drove toward the main road where he began traveling back the way he’d come.
Back toward Boston.
