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Holly Clary
The Drive
I done told mamma that I don't need ajob. But she keeps telling me that
it will be good for me and prepare me for the future. I could care less
if you want to know the truth. But if she don't start giving me more money
I guess I'm gonna have to go get one.
We live in Emerson, Mississippi. This is a town of about five thousand
people and one grocery store, a Wal-Mart and a Jimmy's Burgers. A man named
Homer Florence owns the grocery store and he is mean as a rabid hound.
I come in there every Sunday afternoon for Mamma and he is always just
reading the dang newspaper and lettin them little girls do all the work
around the place. Well, one time a little ole blond girl named Jane (she
goes to my school and is real pretty) couldn't figure somethin out on the
dang cash register. I could tell that she didn't want to tell nobody and
when I saw what happened next I could understand it one hundred per cent.
Oh yes I could. She had to go get Mr. Florence's attention and he finally
just come over to the register and pushed some buttons and everything was
fixed. He didn't once say a word. He just frowned the whole time, and said
something real quiet to Jane. I don't know exactly what he said but it
musta been real mean because I could tell that she was about to cry. I
was the next person in line, and I tried to be as nice as I could be because
I felt sorry for her. I put my milk on that little conveyer belt thing.
I put it as close to her as I could just so she wouldn't have to turn it
on. I wanted to make sure and make as little chance possible for her not
to mess up anything so ole Mr. Florence wouldn't make her cry again, the
old bastard.
Mamma suggested that I try to get a job at Mr. Florence's and I told her
I would try to. I
know I probably wont do it, though.
I've been seventeen for two months now. That's one year and two months
after I got my driver's licence, and I still don't have a truck. That's
the only reason I was considering getting a job and after I have to drive
around Mamma's big ole Buick for too much longer, I'm gonna have to find
me some work.
One afternoon when I come home from school, Mamma was sitting on the couch
just waiting for me I guess and she said she got some good news.
"I talked to Mr. Jesse Clark today. You know, the man who always sits
on the pew behind us in church. Well, anyway, he just happens to be in
need of a van driver for that old folks center he runs, and after I convinced
him that in spite of your rough ways you were a darn safe driver he said
that all you have to do is report to him by 3:30 tomorrow afternoon and
you got it."
"Uh, Thanks, Mom. Now I don't have to look anymore. Do you think I'll
get paid anything decent?"
"Robert Allan! You been sitting on that lazy butt for a year already
since you been old enough to work. Now I don't know what the man will pay,
and you shouldn't worry about it neither. Just be glad you'll be workin."
I guess I was glad. I mean it's better than flipping burgers or working
for darn Mr. Florence in the grocery store. I still wasn't too happy about
it. After I worked for a while, though, I could put a down payment on a
truck. I think I want something midnight blue. Then I might ask ole Jane
Kirby out on a date. She was the one I was telling you about that works
in Mr. Florence's store. She sits right in front of me in Alegebra II and
I love every minute of that class. Sometimes her hair touches the front
of my desk, but sometimes she pulls it over in front of her shoulder. If
you want to know the truth, I like it when it touches the back of my desk.
I can even smell her shampoo. She talks to me sometimes. And I told her
that I was sorry about how Mr. Florence treated her when I was in the store
that day.
"Oh. I expect it from him, the poor old man. You just have to get
used to it. He's always grouchy except for when some of his old buddies
come in. They just go into the backroom and play checkers."
"Well, uh, what are you doing this weekend?"
"Just working. You know how it is."
"Uh yea, it's a bitch."
I knew I didn't know one thing about working. Now that I'm really gonna
have a job, I think I'll have to work that into the next conversation with
Jane.
Next day after school, I reported to Mr. Jesse's office in the center for
old folks. It was located just a block from the school so I could walk.
I had always seen the building and always knew what it was but I had never
been in it. I walked in through the front doors and saw a door with Jesse
Clark printed on the window. The floors had pink tile with green, blue,
and brown speckles in it. And the smell in that place was atrocious. Smelt
worse than a dang dead duck. Kinda smelt like my Grandma's house mixed
with the smell of the stall in the school bathroom with a toilet bowl that
someone forgot to flush. During the time that it took me to make the few
steps to Mr. Jesse's office door, I looked around and saw a few of the
residents. One old lady was pushing another old lady around in a wheel
chair. She come by me and told me hello son, and I just hurried and went
into Mr. Jesse's office.
"Hello Mr. Clark. My mother told me you had some work for me?"
"Yes sir, I do. Your mother and I just got to talkin at Mr. Florence's
store yesterdi and she tole me you was lookin for work. Now how can I pass
up the chance for a fine young Christian boy to work for me?"
"Well, I'm glad you didn't." I hoped he never would find out
that some of the things that went on in my life weren't so Christian. But
I was always at Church on Sunday mornings and I guess that would be enough
for Jesse Clark. I hoped it would anyway.
"I'm sure you're aware, Robert Allan, that I run a service for our
senior citizens of Emerson. My last afternoon driver had to move and I
hope you can continue his job. You'll be taking the ones that can still
get around. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you will drive them to the library
and to Jimmy's. On Tuesday and Thursday they like to go to Green Oak park.
We'll have to come up with something else for Tuesday and Thursday when
the weather gets cold. You can be thinking on that for me. Let me show
you to the van."
I followed Mr. Clark down the dreary hallway of the home. I saw the old
lady pushing the other old lady in the wheelchair again. She looked weird,
like she just wasn't all there -- the one in the wheel chair. The lady
pushing her was wearing one of those dresses that looks like a long tee
shirt that I remember my nursury school teacher wearing. I hated that lady.
Mrs. Dendy was her name. Well, this old lady pushing the weelchair reminded
me of her. In a way she irked me and I hoped she wouldn't be one of the
ones that I was to see after. She kept looking at me and all I could think
about was how ugly that big brown mole on her upper lip was.
Anyway, I followed Mr. Clark to the end of the hall until we reached two
double doors that led to a garage. He gave me the keys to the van.
"You ready to go ahead and start today son?"
"I reckon so."
"Just pull the van up to the front doors and they'll be loadin up
in just a jiffy. Since today is Tuesday, take em to Green Oak. They usually
just walk the track, or sit down on the benches."
Sounded easy enough to me. Mr. Clark went on back to his office and it
kind of relieved me. He's a nice man and everything. I just guess he made
me a little nervous. I pulled the van up and waited for my passengers.
Soon came a couple of white haired men who slowly stepped into the van.
One of them held a pipe in his mouth, but he wasn't smoking anything out
of it. The other one seemed to follow. The one with the pipe glared at
me harshly.
"Where's Joey?"
I didn't care too much for his tone. His voice was loud, and it make me
feel like he already didn't like me just because I wasn't Joey. Who cares
if this old man has a sorry attitude, though. All I had to do was drive
his ass around.
"Mr. Clark didn't tell you? Joey moved to Mansfield. My name is Robert
Allan Greer. I'll be the new driver."
"You old enough to drive?"
"Yes sir. I'm seventeen and two months."
"Well, I know you kids drive crazy. You better not. My heart can't
take it."
"Yes sir. I wont disappoint you."
From that moment on the rest of my day was a living hell. About eight more
oldies piled in, mostly women. Besides old pipeman and friend, there was
only one other man. Then I saw the lady that reminded me of Mrs. Dendy.
Later I found out that her name was Rita Witherspoon and pipeman's name
was Gerald Thompson. I drove towards Green Oak and didn't say one word.
I just listened.
"Did Sonny Freeman come out alright from his triple by-pass?"
asked a lady with a of gray stringy hair pulled up on the top of her head.
It was fixed just like one of them skinny ballerinas.
"I heard he's had a fair recovery, Eva. Judy come by last week.
You know she's hisdaughter-in-law. She come to get his razor and stuff.
I asked her and all she says to me is, 'He's had a fair recovery.' As soon
as she had just enough time to grab his toiletries she was out of the home
in a flash. I reckon she's busy and all, takin care of him and those two
boys of hers."
"Well, Rita, I'll tell you one thing. I've got to go see Dr. Hoover
next week, and he's been tellin me that I might be in that same situation
if my heart pills don't start workin no better."
"Most of us have been there honey. I'll be prayin for ya."
As I drove I remember feeling the most uncomfortable feeling I'd ever felt.
Who wants to sit around and talk about their ailments all day long? I hated
this job already and I hadn't even made it to the park yet.
After about my first week of the job I learned to tolerate it. I told momma
how horrible it was, and that I hated all the grouches and sour old women
I had to drive. She slapped me and told me never to say such a thing again,
that the elderly were to be respected, that they done had their turn to
put up with their elders and now we gotta take care of them. I guess she
made sense, but she wasn't the one who had to listen to it every day. I
think she would have enjoyed it if you want to know the truth. I also think
that my older sister, Kathy, would have enjoyed it too. She goes to college
in Oxford. She's always talkin to old people. When we have Thanksgiving
and
Christmas she will spend the whole damn time talking to all the old people.
Don't get me wrong. I love my family oh I love em alright. But, Kathy,
she can just talk and talk to em for hours. If you ask me, I get pretty
bored talking to em, and I especially get bored hearin all them oldies
talk on the van. Kathy asked me how my job was going and I told her fine,
but then momma told her that I didn't like it, that I didn't respect the
elderly.
I had been at the job for about three months -- three months of utter hell.
If they didn't shut up and stop smelling like Bengay I was going to damn
near have to quit. All I ever heard was "my colitis," "my
heartburn," "my kidney stone," and worst of all "you
youngins."
Starting on my fourth month Mr. Clark decided that I should start taking
them on to the mall in Rhine Village. It was only about thirty minutes
from Emerson. I had to take them every other Saturday morning, and you
can bet I was just thrilled to death about it. About ten minutes into to
drive old Gerald Thompson started in.
"Boy would you watch your speed a bit. I'm gettin nauseous back here."
"Just like my son," said Miss Rita, "always in a hurry."
I didn't care about his stomach or her son, all I cared about was my date
with Jane that night. I had finally got the courage to ask her out even
though I didn't have my truck yet. She said she would see a movie with
me. I think my anxiety for the date was the only thing that had kept me
sane that week, well, most of the week anyway.
I tried my best to just drive, to tune them out. There were many curves
in the road, but I was used to it. Momma took me to Rhine Village about
five or six times a year. I never drove, but I was used to the roads. We
finnally arrived into town. A pretty good sized town. As I waited at a
stoplight I looked into all the cars that were lined up beside me. I was
actually
a_surprised to see as many people my age as I did, driving in their own
cars and not having to worry about this despicable job. One was a little
red ford escort. A young guy was driving. I saw that he was changing tapes
in the tape deck from Willie Nelson to The Cars. The red light was a long
one and I just stared, fantasized. I knew he must be in high school because
I saw an Algebra book just like mine thrown in the back seat. Then I looked
into the back of the vehicle that I was driving and wanted to throw up.
The light finally changed and I headed towards the mall. The oldies kept
getting louder and louder. Why wouldn't they shut the hell up?
"Pull over sonny! Call a doctor."
I think it was Gerald Thompson who said that. I couldn't really tell because
whoever said it had a hard time getting it out. I didn't really know what
to think. I didn't panic. I was numb. I pulled over into a Jack in the
Box parking lot.
When I finally got the van stopped and had a chance to look in the back
seat, Mr. Thompson was lying over on Rita's lap. He kept trying to talk
but nothing came out. Reality final~y caught me and I ran into the store
to dial 911. I ran back out to the van and tried to figure out what was
going on. All the oldies were panicing. About two minutes passed before
the ambulance arrived. The paramedics ordered everyone out of the way and
went into the van to get Mr. Thompson out.
"One. Two. Three. Hmph!"
They were really going at it, just like on that show "St. Elsewhere."
Pumping and counting and God, I hoped saving.
No more counting. I watched as they pulled a white sheet over his head.
I felt sorry for every bad thing I had said about any elderly person at
that moment. I hate that it had to happen
that way. All I remember now from the rest of that day is my walk behind
the Jack and the Box. I could hardly see where I was walking because of
the salt water in my eyes. I just walked to the back of the bulding. And
when I got back there, I puked my guts out.
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