Intersection
Crossroads. Intersections. At these places paths were chosen, deals were made and people passed each other for a fleeting moment.
The girl almost an adult now at the age of 17, in the black leathers approached such a crossroad that rainy night. The night was black as pitch, the clouds above obscuring the moon and stars. The girl looked a down trodden Joan Jett. Her raven colored hair was plastered together by the rain.
A shiver passed through her and she pulled her soggy biker jacket which had been a gift from her uncle around herself. That shiver didn't come from any amount of rain or the unknown that lay ahead of her. It instead came from the memory of what lay behind her.
She stood there shaking like a leaf with rain dribbling off of her. She looked absolutely pitiful. She didn't know where she was going.
What little money she had had already been exhausted three days back. Her feet ached and her body cried out in agony for nourishment it hadn't had for 48 hours.
Yes, the poor thing stood at that crossroads felling hopeless and abandoned by all, exposed to the predators both four-legged and two-legged that lurked in the shadows. She stood there looking ahead & from side to side uncertain where to go.
Was that a motor? Was that headlights. Yes. The semi came to halt on the the path to her left and she shield her puffy eyes from the headlights that illuminated her. The driver door opened and a stout man in jeans, a dark gray shirt and a baseball cap jumped down. He was in his late forties with salt and pepper already present in the well groomed beared.
She should run but she knew she'd not get very far she was about to collapse from exhaustion. "Can I offer you a lift little missy?"
She was hesitant. This was stupid. She asked, How do I know I know you're not a rapist or a serial killer?"
"You don't."
The bluntness of his answer made
her put her gaurd down just enough to climb into the passenger side of the 18 Wheeler. "Where you headed, Missy or don't you know?"
"My names Chloe and no I don't know I don't have a %÷+*ing clue."
"Tell you what. I'm making night deliveries to a distribution center for Package Express; that's my job.
I'm going to Jacobson. That's two hours away. It'll be Six AM when we arrive. I know a shelter there. I'll drop you off there."
"Whatever."
Chloe was too tired to sleep. So she just looked out the window but that was mostly just a formality. "My name's Trevor." The trucker stated.
She said nothing. All was silent except for the sound of the behemoth moving down the road and the rain hitting the vehicle. "How about some tunes?"
Again silence. Trevor didn't say anything after that for a while. Chloe noticed he occasionally frowned when looking at a picture of a woman and young girl around five maybe tapped to the dashboard of the truck.
She deduced the people had some significant meaning to her benefactor but it wasn't her business and she didn't ask. His wife and daughter, that's who they were or at least used to be. The ex lived California now, the wierdo capital of the USA. She took good care of little Chrissy and made shore to poison her mind against her father.
Trevor had been staring ahead for a century when he opened his mouth again. "I don't what you're running from, Chloe but it must pretty bad for you be soaking with rain water and accepting a ride from a stranger."
"You don't seem like a killer."
"Chloe, what does a killer seem like? Ted Bundy worked for a suicide prevention hot line! People aren't always what they seem."
"I know!"she snapped I know that dame well! I thought my mom would always have my back no matter what but she turned out to be a bitch who grounded her daughter for lying about her new husband just because the daughter didn't want a stepfather!"
Wow! He hadn't expected that. At least the poor bedraggled girl was opening up.
"What's this big lie you supposedly told?"
"That her Sir Galahad married her just to bang me. He told me on so one night when the two of us were alone and he---"
She didn't finish nor did she need to. Trevor vowed if he ever met Chloe's stepfather he'd slowly castrated with his grandpappy's rusted bayonet.
"Why not go the cops?"
"Yeah great idea. My mom totally wouldn't tell them I was lying or anything."
Trevor let the matter rest. Chloe eventually fell asleep. That was good. She woke up 25 minutes later when he stopped at a 24 hour greasepit. He returned with a brown paperbag containing two breakfast sandwiches. He was honestly surprised to find his passenger still in the truck. He was glad she hadn't vanished into the drizzle. He said grace and using a pocket knife he cut his sandwich in half and gave a portion to Chloe with her own whole sandwich.
"You need that more than I do."
She didn't protest.
Finally around six. Trevor dropped off the packages and drove Chloe to the shelter. He gave her some money. Enough for a hotel room and a change of clothes.
"You'll be in my prayers Chloe."and he drove off into the lush orange sunrise.
Crossroads. Intersections. At these places, deals are made, paths are chosen, and people pass each other for a fleeting moment, people like a lonely trucker and destitute runaway.