Speaker 1: The hat Man by Rebecca Lee Wesson. South of Julesburg
Speaker 1: is a stretch of vacant and unspoiled American frontier. Unique
Speaker 1: to this place is the way it subtly displays the
Speaker 1: untapped potential we so often read about in the journals
Speaker 1: of the pioneers who crossed it. There are no bright flowers,
Speaker 1: chirping insects, or gentle rains flagrantly boasting these promises. There
Speaker 1: are no great rivers or snowcapped mountains in the distance
Speaker 1: to serve as a finish line. Instead, one gets the
Speaker 1: distinct impression that underneath the deceiving layer of melancholic emptiness
Speaker 1: draped across its unremarkable terrain is an indescribable richness. This
Speaker 1: hand is remiss in attempting to describe it with words,
Speaker 1: knowing that a proper explanation could only ever be accomplished
Speaker 1: by a skilled paintbrush or eldritch bird song. There is
Speaker 1: something innately mysterious and wonderful about it all. And in
Speaker 1: this terrain, permanently washed by diluted blues and grays, no
Speaker 1: matter the season or position of the sun in the sky,
Speaker 1: we know deeply in our hearts that the land has
Speaker 1: a voice, and we desperately beg of it to tell
Speaker 1: us the thousands of colorful stories at Hydes just under
Speaker 1: the surface, Signed Claude Eugene Shaw, nineteen forty. My teacher
Speaker 1: made me stand up and read that article for smarting off,
Speaker 1: and I humiliated myself in front of the rest of
Speaker 1: the sixth grade trying to say words like eldritch and melancholic.
Speaker 1: I had no idea what it meant, but I liked
Speaker 1: the photograph that it came with. It wasn't anything remarkable,
Speaker 1: just a dead tree looking out over the low rolling
Speaker 1: hills of open land, as big and wide as the
Speaker 1: eye could see. But there was something special about it.
Speaker 1: To me. It felt familiar. It felt like I had
Speaker 1: belonged there all this time, and only by some divine accident,
Speaker 1: ended up in the dumpy little town of Price, Missouri.
Speaker 1: On the right side of the picture was the front
Speaker 1: of mister Claude Eugene Shaw's old nineteen thirties Chevrolet. I
Speaker 1: knew it was a Chevrolet because it looked like the
Speaker 1: one resting in the junkyard behind Mama's trailer, except the
Speaker 1: one in the picture still had its bullet lights and
Speaker 1: fenders and didn't have a family of raccoons living in it.
Speaker 1: Later I asked my friend Tina what the article meant.
Speaker 1: She was the smartest person I knew. She said that
Speaker 1: the place mister Shaw was talking about in northeastern Colorado
Speaker 1: was special, had a lot going on under the surface.
Speaker 1: She was just as taken with the articles as I
Speaker 1: was with the picture, and we decided to see it
Speaker 1: one day with our own eyes. That was a big
Speaker 1: deal for two girls from the world's worst small town.
Speaker 1: We may as well have made a pack to fly
Speaker 1: to the moon. Nobody got out of price not alive anyway.
Speaker 1: That was the same day the hat man started showing
Speaker 1: up in my life. He wasn't the first ghost I
Speaker 1: had seen, but he was definitely the only one in
Speaker 1: a pin striped suit and bowler hat. There wasn't anything
Speaker 1: particularly scary or mean about him except that he was dead,
Speaker 1: except that nobody else could see him, except that I
Speaker 1: knew he was waiting on me, and that meant I
Speaker 1: wouldn't grow old like my best friend. Seven years and
Speaker 1: two months later, there we were driving through in the
Speaker 1: brass on our way south of Julesburg, Colorado. Tina Duck
Speaker 1: taped the photograph from mister Shaw's article to the dashboard
Speaker 1: of her car, and we high tailed it out of Price,
Speaker 1: like two inmates busting out of jail, going as quickly
Speaker 1: as Tina's old red hatchback would take us. In my
Speaker 1: lap was a wooden box with my name, Francis Brenda
Speaker 1: Hooper stamped over a hand painted cardinal. I tapped the
Speaker 1: top of it with my fingers like a drum to
Speaker 1: the song on the radio, looking from the picture on
Speaker 1: the dash to Tina and smiling my ass off. It
Speaker 1: was the first time in our lives we had left Price,
Speaker 1: and it felt good. It felt gooder than good. Even
Speaker 1: my mama's relentless, blistering voice had stopped berating me. The
Speaker 1: hat man was still following me, though I could see
Speaker 1: him in the field, standing there watching me from a distance.
Speaker 1: A disco song came on the ra and I tried
Speaker 1: to change the station, but it crackled and garbled under
Speaker 1: my clumsy fingers. I couldn't even get that right. Tina
Speaker 1: cursed and slammed her fist on the dashboard, eventually getting
Speaker 1: the radio to work again. She glanced at me sideways,
Speaker 1: and I tried to keep my blundering hands to myself.
Speaker 1: Five hours into our escape, we passed by the first
Speaker 1: sign for the town of Oglala and I laughed out loud.
Speaker 1: Oh my lord, it's real, I said, wide eyed and
Speaker 1: looking at Tina. When we mapped our way to Colorado,
Speaker 1: we saw Oglala on the map, and I told her
Speaker 1: there was no way that place really existed, And each
Speaker 1: time I tried to pronounce it, I gagged and swallowed
Speaker 1: my tongue, embarrassing myself and desecrating the name of what
Speaker 1: was probably an honorable historic town. Tina nearly peter pants
Speaker 1: laughing at me. She smiled in the driver's seat and
Speaker 1: shook her head. I guess she was having the same
Speaker 1: memory as me. She was still mad at me, though,
Speaker 1: and I knew why. I wanted to bring it up,
Speaker 1: but I couldn't. She wasn't talking to me anyway, not
Speaker 1: after what I did. Twenty minutes later, we were in
Speaker 1: line at the most wonderful place in the world, the
Speaker 1: Oglalla Walmart. Tina may have been giving me the silent treatment,
Speaker 1: but I knew she liked me because she was buying
Speaker 1: me my favorite jerky and a brand new roll of
Speaker 1: duct tape. It was all I ever bought there. I
Speaker 1: felt there were a few other things you needed in life.
Speaker 1: The guy ahead of us was wearing scrubs, and the
Speaker 1: lady behind us smelled like a craft store. Behind her
Speaker 1: was the hat man. He looked at me and nodded,
Speaker 1: and I turned around quickly, pretending I didn't see him.
Speaker 1: Tina and I stood there in silence and waited our turn.
Speaker 1: The checkout lady wasn't particularly friendly, but I liked her.
Speaker 1: She had long gray brown hair, silver rings on every finger,
Speaker 1: and one of those nothing surprises me anymore looks on
Speaker 1: her face. When we got closer, I saw she had
Speaker 1: a tattoo of a cardinal on her arm. That was
Speaker 1: my favorite bird. I elbowed Tina and pointing to it,
Speaker 1: but her reaction wasn't what I wanted. She looked away
Speaker 1: from it and sniffled, and when it was our turn,
Speaker 1: the checkout lady eyed me suspiciously. I shrugged and stood
Speaker 1: off to the side, and when our stuff was bagged,
Speaker 1: she eyed me again and looked at Tina sympathetically and
Speaker 1: wished her a nice day. I didn't take it personally, though,
Speaker 1: in my whole life, Tina was the only person who
Speaker 1: had ever liked me? In the car again, Tina looked
Speaker 1: at me in the box in my lap, wanting to
Speaker 1: say something, but having too many words and none at
Speaker 1: all at the same time. She opened her glove compartant
Speaker 1: for the tissue, but instead found the envelope a note
Speaker 1: I had put there for her before we left on
Speaker 1: this trip. She paused for a second when she saw it,
Speaker 1: and then took it out and opened it. Inside were
Speaker 1: three hundred bucks I had saved up for her. She
Speaker 1: tried to read the note I wrote on the envelope,
Speaker 1: but couldn't make it out. I leaned over and tried
Speaker 1: to read my handwriting, but it was pointless, something about
Speaker 1: apologizing for hurting her and thanking her for her friendship,
Speaker 1: if I remembered it correctly. My appalling lack of vocabulary
Speaker 1: made my feelings difficult to describe. Though maybe it was
Speaker 1: better an illegible scribble than her witnessing my failed attempt
Speaker 1: at being poetic. I sighed at my atrocious penmanship. It
Speaker 1: looked like a squirrel had gotten a hold of a crayon.
Speaker 1: I know it isn't much, I said, but it'll help
Speaker 1: you get settled. Tina stared at her steering wheel, leaned
Speaker 1: her head against it and cried. I hung my head
Speaker 1: and looked at my hands. Mama was right. No matter
Speaker 1: what I did, I messed everything up. And yet after
Speaker 1: all that I put Tina through, there she was still
Speaker 1: taking me to Colorado. I didn't deserve her. I wish
Speaker 1: she'd get mad and yell at me and get it
Speaker 1: all off her chest, but she didn't. She wiped her
Speaker 1: eyes and put her sunglasses back on, over the mess
Speaker 1: and got us back on the highway. Two weeks earlier,
Speaker 1: Tina and I were walking down Main Street and Price
Speaker 1: gathering everything she needed for school. She had gotten accepted
Speaker 1: into college all the way over in Colorado, which was
Speaker 1: unheard of for a kid from our town. She was
Speaker 1: actually going to leave. Nobody did that. If you weren't
Speaker 1: pregnant by sixteen, you were either dead or in jail
Speaker 1: by twenty. But not Tina. Though she was going places.
Speaker 1: She had this innate ability to get through hell with
Speaker 1: grace and acceptance. While the rest of us wallowed in
Speaker 1: our pitiful fates, Tina found a way to roll up
Speaker 1: her sleeves and thrive when we felt stuck in the
Speaker 1: bubble of our pitiful town. She found a way to
Speaker 1: get out. She was just built different, unlike Tina, whose
Speaker 1: wits and sensibility never could rub off on me. I
Speaker 1: knew i'd never leave Price alive. It didn't bother me though.
Speaker 1: It was just one of those things. Some people were
Speaker 1: meant to go places, but not me. I had accepted
Speaker 1: that fact since I was a kid. There was something
Speaker 1: wrong with me anyway. I saw people no one else could,
Speaker 1: and the less time I had to spend living with
Speaker 1: that unfortunate talent, the better. I waited outside mister Wallace's
Speaker 1: computer store while Tina looked for a cord he probably
Speaker 1: didn't have it stopped. I watched several cars go by
Speaker 1: and waved at people who didn't like me, and squinted
Speaker 1: in the hot sun. But as I waited, the noise
Speaker 1: slowly faded and the hairs on my arms went rigid,
Speaker 1: and I looked down the block and saw the hat
Speaker 1: man in his old bowler in suit waiting for me.
Speaker 1: I ducked into the narrow alley next to the store
Speaker 1: and peeked out, relieved to see that he was gone.
Speaker 1: But just as my heart beat went back to normal,
Speaker 1: I felt someone in the alley behind me. It wasn't
Speaker 1: the hat man, though, it was Mama. Her strain, breathing
Speaker 1: in the wreek of stale cigarettes assaulted my senses, turning
Speaker 1: my stomach and making my hands quiver. She walked her
Speaker 1: fingers up my arm and clutched her lifeless, bony hand
Speaker 1: around my shoulder. Give the hat man what he wants, you, twit,
Speaker 1: she whispered hatefully into my ear. The smell of her
Speaker 1: rotting skin filled my nose, and tears welled in my eyes.
Speaker 1: As if her presence in my life when she was
Speaker 1: living wasn't hellish enough, she had dedicated her death to
Speaker 1: torturing me too. The bell on the door of mister
Speaker 1: Wallace's shop rang, and Tina stepped out, looking for me.
Speaker 1: I ran out of the alley as fast as I could,
Speaker 1: startling her. What's going on, she asked me, worriedly. I
Speaker 1: watched Mama's pale, twisted face creep back into the shadow
Speaker 1: of the alley, and then looked at Tina, and I
Speaker 1: shook my head. I think there's a dead rat in there.
Speaker 1: Scared me as all, I said, rubbing my neck and
Speaker 1: praying for a subject change. Squeak squeak, squeak. By miracle,
Speaker 1: the most annoying sound in the world filled the air.
Speaker 1: We heard Rodney, the deep enemy of women, everywhere before
Speaker 1: we saw him. He drove a rustling old el Camino
Speaker 1: with a squeaking suspension and serpentine belt that sounded like
Speaker 1: it was ready to snap off. The passenger window was missing,
Speaker 1: and there were still old cigarettes in the ash tray
Speaker 1: from the previous owner that Rodney refused to throw away
Speaker 1: because they quote added to the vibe. He pulled that
Speaker 1: beater up next to us on the sidewalk and squeaked
Speaker 1: slowly down the parking lane with one hand on the
Speaker 1: steering wheel and his head bent low over the passenger
Speaker 1: seat to get a word in with Tina, and to
Speaker 1: her horror, he had a crush on her since the
Speaker 1: eighth grade. Tina, Hey, Tina, He shouted over the wine
Speaker 1: of his rustbucket, wearing flaming orange wayfarers and a baseball
Speaker 1: hat with the rim bent upward. When he swerved dramatically
Speaker 1: back onto the main stretch to avoid mister Wallace's park truck,
Speaker 1: Tina took cover in Miss Patty's boutique. Rodney steered back
Speaker 1: towards the sidewalk and crept up the park lane, and
Speaker 1: when he looked for Tina again, he got Francis Brenda
Speaker 1: Hooper and all her husky goodness instead. I slammed my
Speaker 1: hands on the roof of his car and squatted down
Speaker 1: next to the passenger door. Hey, I shouted, quickly wedging
Speaker 1: my thick torso into the frame of the window before
Speaker 1: he could drive off. Rodney screamed like a gopher. What
Speaker 1: the hell's wrong with you? Hoop? He said, as my
Speaker 1: wide behind stuck out the window and got a free
Speaker 1: ride down Main Street. I slapped the hat off his
Speaker 1: head and finished his warm coke and the cup holder
Speaker 1: for him. I crinkled the can and tried to throw
Speaker 1: it out the driver's side window, but I realized too
Speaker 1: late that it was rolled up, and the can hit
Speaker 1: the glass, hit his knee and fell to the floor
Speaker 1: at his feet, and he groaned and rolled his eyes.
Speaker 1: Damn it, hoop, he said, putting his hat back on
Speaker 1: his head. My bad, tell me ride, I said, with
Speaker 1: one hand on the dash and the other on the
Speaker 1: headrest to the passenger seat. You gonna drive yourself to prison?
Speaker 1: Or is your mullet gonna take you. Shut up, Friz whizz.
Speaker 1: Rodney sneered, it ain't a mullet. Get out of my car.
Speaker 1: No way, this is kind of comfortable, I said, looking
Speaker 1: around the dusty, cigarette stained cloth interior and nodding my
Speaker 1: approval like the real estate people did on TV. I
Speaker 1: tried to adjust my stomach to the window sill, but
Speaker 1: I couldn't. Anyway, I'm stuck. Where's Tina. All I wanted
Speaker 1: to do was tell her goodbye? While you always got
Speaker 1: a butt in when I'm talking to her, he asked,
Speaker 1: looking like my presence afflicted him in every way. He
Speaker 1: veered back onto Main Street again to avoid the blue sedan.
Speaker 1: As my feet dragged slowly along the pavement and pleasantly
Speaker 1: in tow, one of my flip flops fell off and
Speaker 1: my butt knocked into Miss Betty, who was loading groceries
Speaker 1: in the back seat of her car. She dropped a
Speaker 1: bag of food and cursed at me, and then through
Speaker 1: my flip flop at Rodney's bumper. Sorry, miss b I
Speaker 1: shouted over my butt and turned back to Rodney. You're
Speaker 1: not allowed to talk to Tina because friends don't let
Speaker 1: friends talk to guy's name Rodney driving El Caminos, I said,
Speaker 1: grimacing at the old cigarettes I'm pretty sure had started
Speaker 1: to decay. Plus, man, you look like this car smells.
Speaker 1: I can't let you tarnish the reputation of Prices star
Speaker 1: child with your vibe. Shut up, Hope, you look like
Speaker 1: an eighties Walmart greeter. I patted my short and frizzy
Speaker 1: blonde hair that refused to grow longer than a couple
Speaker 1: of inches and tried to figure out what he meant
Speaker 1: by that. I guess it was supposed to be an insult,
Speaker 1: but it didn't work on me, because, first of all,
Speaker 1: the eighties had the best music. Is this kid really
Speaker 1: gonna insult me by saying I look like I'm from
Speaker 1: the era of def Leopard Hell? Yes, and thank you?
Speaker 1: And second of all, I love Walmart. Where else can
Speaker 1: you buy emergency beef jerky and duct tape at ten
Speaker 1: pm on a Tuesday. Anyway, since Rodney gave me a compliment,
Speaker 1: I returned the favor. Oh yeah, Rodney, I said, well,
Speaker 1: you look like you're great President mister George Washington. Rodney
Speaker 1: scrunched his nose up and scowled at me. Why do
Speaker 1: you always got to be so weird? Who, he said.
Speaker 1: I shrugged and looked at my stubby nails. I don't know,
Speaker 1: just lucky, I guess, I said, picking off the last
Speaker 1: chunk of blue polished Tina put on the week before.
Speaker 1: Rodney sighed, still leaving on Saturday, He asked, yeah, and
Speaker 1: you're sorry as better stay away from her until then. Hey,
Speaker 1: run me into that mirror there, I said, pointing to
Speaker 1: the side of view mirrors sticking out of an old,
Speaker 1: abandoned Ford that had been parked on the side of
Speaker 1: Main Street for the last year. Rodney obliged and steered
Speaker 1: toward it. As the mirror hit the side of my butt,
Speaker 1: it pushed on my hips and unweddged me from the window.
Speaker 1: I stood up and dusted the vibe of the El
Speaker 1: Camino off my shirt, and before I could harass him anymore,
Speaker 1: Rodney hit the gas and flip me the bird. Peace out, loser,
Speaker 1: he said, as he drove away. Squeak, squeak, squeak. I
Speaker 1: slapped his bumper with my palm and waved my hand
Speaker 1: high in the air. Thanks for the ride, Ridney. Say
Speaker 1: hi to your mom for me in jail, I shouted
Speaker 1: as loud as I could. Tina caught up with me
Speaker 1: and handed me my flip flop and a stick of
Speaker 1: fruity gum. Thanks for saving me, she said, what the
Speaker 1: rat king want this time? I slid my sandal back
Speaker 1: on and shoved the gum in my mouth and bobbed
Speaker 1: my head side to side with my hands on my hips,
Speaker 1: trying to sum up the long winded a philosophical conversation
Speaker 1: RO and I had. Oh, you know, his majesty told
Speaker 1: me that I'm the coolest person he ever met, and
Speaker 1: he wanted to tell you goodbye. Do I smell like
Speaker 1: cigarettes now? I asked, holding the front of my t
Speaker 1: shirt up to my nose. Tina laughed, It was a joe.
Speaker 1: Mama used to smoke inside, and there wasn't a thing
Speaker 1: in the entire trailer that didn't smell like newport menthols,
Speaker 1: including all the old clothes in her closet. It was
Speaker 1: like she went on a shopping spree one time in
Speaker 1: nineteen eighty seven, and ever again after that. The day
Speaker 1: I turned sixteen, she took a ride on the cowcatcher
Speaker 1: of a southbound locomotive, leaving her broken down trailer and
Speaker 1: a whole closet full of eighties clothes for me as
Speaker 1: a parting gift. Her suicide was kind of a birthday present,
Speaker 1: I guess, since she was a frightening person and her
Speaker 1: clothes were all that fit me. Anyway, are you coming over?
Speaker 1: I want to show you something, Tina said. Ahead of me,
Speaker 1: I saw the hat man again. He had a toothpick
Speaker 1: in his mouth and his hands in his pockets. I
Speaker 1: didn't dare to tell Tina about him. I didn't tell
Speaker 1: her about any of them. She was my only friend
Speaker 1: and I couldn't lose her on account of my being haunted. Yeah,
Speaker 1: let's go, I said, turning my head away from the
Speaker 1: hat man. As we passed by him, I brushed his
Speaker 1: shoulder with mine and felt a sickening chill cascade down
Speaker 1: my back. I put my hands in my pocket so
Speaker 1: Tina wouldn't see them shake, and pressed my lips together
Speaker 1: hard against the feeling of nausea that bubbled up. We
Speaker 1: turned down the block to the neighborhood behind Main Street
Speaker 1: and walked the broken sidewalk toward Grandma's little bungalow at
Speaker 1: the end. Like me, Tina's parents were out of the picture.
Speaker 1: Her mom passed away when she was a kid, and
Speaker 1: her dad died in a car accident. It wasn't a
Speaker 1: unique story, though not for price. Tina's new Hatchback was
Speaker 1: in Grandma's driveway. It was probably fifteen years old, but
Speaker 1: it had all four wheels. It was painted cardinal red too,
Speaker 1: and that's all that mattered. Is this your getaway car?
Speaker 1: I asked excitedly. When Tina got accepted into college, the
Speaker 1: whole town seemed to celebrate. Kids around here barely finished
Speaker 1: high school, much less even attempted to do something with
Speaker 1: their lives. She was the star child in our pitiful
Speaker 1: little town, and to celebrate her, Grandma bought her a car. Yep,
Speaker 1: Tina said, running her hand on the hood as we
Speaker 1: walked past it. That's what I wanted to talk to
Speaker 1: you about. She sat on the front porch step and
Speaker 1: looked at her hands, and I sat down next to
Speaker 1: her and waited for her to speak. Sometimes it took
Speaker 1: her a minute to compile all her thoughts. Maybe all
Speaker 1: smart people were like that. I wouldn't know. I'm thinking
Speaker 1: about selling it and getting Grandma her money back, she said.
Speaker 1: The hell is all I managed to say. Why on
Speaker 1: earth would you do that? You have a ride out
Speaker 1: of here? This is all we've ever talked about. She
Speaker 1: looked at me and rolled her eyes and stared at
Speaker 1: her hands again, because we were supposed to go together,
Speaker 1: she said. I looked at my hands too. I knew
Speaker 1: i'd never leave Price, and I felt guilty about it.
Speaker 1: My heart sank at the thought of saying goodbye to Tina,
Speaker 1: and part of me wanted to cry and beg her
Speaker 1: to stay. But I couldn't do that to my best friend.
Speaker 1: I smiled and elbowed her playfully. You're not staying in
Speaker 1: Price for my sorry ass, I said. You know me,
Speaker 1: I always find my way. She picked a weed growing
Speaker 1: up through the wooden boards of the poor and started
Speaker 1: fussing with it. You could get a job out there,
Speaker 1: she offered. I laughed, what and leave all this, I said,
Speaker 1: presenting the Rundown neighborhood around us. Besides Price needs me,
Speaker 1: who else is brave enough to protect the neighborhood kids
Speaker 1: from the rodneys of the world. Tina threw the weed
Speaker 1: on the ground and crossed her arms. Price isn't the
Speaker 1: end of the road. Who hell, maybe Julesburg is. Don't
Speaker 1: you want to find out for yourself, she said. I
Speaker 1: chewed on my lip and pretended to think about what
Speaker 1: she said. If I were anyone but me, I would
Speaker 1: have said yes. But the funny thing about having a
Speaker 1: physically and emotionally abusive, alcoholic mother is at some point
Speaker 1: you start to believe all the terrible things she said
Speaker 1: about you. I was an ugly, overweight, good for nothing,
Speaker 1: waste of a child who ruined the motherhood she thought
Speaker 1: she deserved, and she know what every chance she got.
Speaker 1: And as if her feelings about me weren't enough, everyone
Speaker 1: in town seemed to share her sentiments about me too.
Speaker 1: When I dropped out of school, I don't think my
Speaker 1: teachers noticed. That's how it was in price though. If
Speaker 1: you fell out of school, there was no one there
Speaker 1: to pick you up and put you back. If a
Speaker 1: kid liked me disappeared, nobody noticed, and nobody cared. I
Speaker 1: sighed heavily and looked at the tattered brown grass in
Speaker 1: Grandma's yard. And when the train on the west side
Speaker 1: of town cut its horn through the air, I caught
Speaker 1: a glimpse of the hat man again. At the end
Speaker 1: of the block. He looked in the direction of the
Speaker 1: train back at me, and rocked on his heels. My
Speaker 1: stomach turned again, and I put my hands in my
Speaker 1: pocket before I started to shake. I felt the folded
Speaker 1: envelope in my pocket and thought about giving it to
Speaker 1: Tina before it was too late. A few weeks earlier,
Speaker 1: I cashed my life asked welfare check and put it
Speaker 1: in an envelope with a TOAT scribbled on it. Now,
Speaker 1: I kept it in my pocket, waiting for the right
Speaker 1: time to give it to her. I wouldn't be needing
Speaker 1: the money anyway. I wasn't ready to give it to
Speaker 1: her yet. Though I wasn't ready to say goodbye. I
Speaker 1: made an excuse to get out of there, and I
Speaker 1: told Tina i'd see her tomorrow. I didn't go to
Speaker 1: Mama's trailer, though I hadn't been there for weeks. The
Speaker 1: power and water had been shut off for mince, and
Speaker 1: the food and the refrigerated had long since spoiled. I'm
Speaker 1: pretty sure the family of raccoons living in the old
Speaker 1: Chevrolet had moved in too, But that's not what kept
Speaker 1: me away. Every time I tried to sleep, Mama's ghost
Speaker 1: would appear next to me in bed, spitting insults and threats.
Speaker 1: Sometimes other folks would come around, too, desperate for someone
Speaker 1: to talk to who could actually see them, and then
Speaker 1: dump all their terrible regrets on me. When the hat
Speaker 1: man started showing up more frequently, I gave up ever
Speaker 1: being able to sleep again. I walked through the woods
Speaker 1: to the railroad tracks. I spent more time there than
Speaker 1: anywhere else. I'd stand off to the side, wait for
Speaker 1: the general vibration of the rails, and then close my
Speaker 1: eyes and guess which way the train would be coming from.
Speaker 1: When it would whip by, i'd savor the woosh of
Speaker 1: air hitting my skin and get high off the adrenaline
Speaker 1: rush of being a little too close. The drivers would
Speaker 1: hank their blaring horns at me and yell as they
Speaker 1: sped by, but I waved anyway, wondering where they were from,
Speaker 1: where they were going, and what it felt like to
Speaker 1: go places. When the trees cleared, I walked past my
Speaker 1: sleeping bag and cooler full of food and stood next
Speaker 1: to the rails. And I closed my eyes and waited
Speaker 1: for the metal to start rumbling. It didn't take long
Speaker 1: until I heard it north to south, I thought to myself,
Speaker 1: and crossed my fingers. I waited till the sound got closer,
Speaker 1: and then opened my eyes. It was going in the
Speaker 1: opposite direction, and I clicked my teeth and frowned at myself.
Speaker 1: I never once had gotten it right. When the blaring
Speaker 1: horn sounded, I took a couple of steps back and
Speaker 1: waved at the driver as he yelled at me for
Speaker 1: being too close. You have a good day, sir, I
Speaker 1: yelled back, knowing he couldn't hear me. I watched the
Speaker 1: box cars speed by and breathed in the wind and
Speaker 1: clanging metal rushing past my face. When several flat cars
Speaker 1: passed by, I saw the hat man. He was standing
Speaker 1: on the other side of the tracks. Several more box
Speaker 1: cars passed by, and he disappeared behind them. When another
Speaker 1: flat car passed, I saw him again, this time much closer.
Speaker 1: I smelled cigarettes, and the future stench of rotting skin
Speaker 1: and in chill exploded up my spine. I clenched my
Speaker 1: fist and braced myself for the droll of mama's nasty voice.
Speaker 1: Well go on, she said, ushering me toward the moving
Speaker 1: train with a weak nudge. Get it over with. When
Speaker 1: another set of flat cars passed by, the hat man
Speaker 1: was only feet away from me on the other side
Speaker 1: of the tracks. Toothpick in his mouth and hands in
Speaker 1: his pockets. Mama was behind him now, her face twisted
Speaker 1: into a horrible grin. She started to cackle, and my
Speaker 1: legs began to shake. Even if I could run, I wouldn't.
Speaker 1: I knew I couldn't escape the hat Man. I knew
Speaker 1: Mama's vicious, hostile voice would be in my head until
Speaker 1: the day I died. I clenched my fist even harder
Speaker 1: and held back a tear. And when the last of
Speaker 1: the box car passed by, the hat Man and Mama
Speaker 1: were gone. The next day, I lied to Tina and
Speaker 1: I told her I'd come to Colorado. I knew it
Speaker 1: was the only way to get her to finish packing.
Speaker 1: We spent the next couple of days moving her things
Speaker 1: out of Grandma's house and squeezing it all into her hatchbag,
Speaker 1: taking occasional breaks to meander around the town for the
Speaker 1: last time and hide from Rodney. The hat Man had
Speaker 1: gone from occasional visits to walking with me wherever I went,
Speaker 1: and Mama's voice was a relentless, horrible ringing in my ears,
Speaker 1: reminding me that my time was running short. When the
Speaker 1: end of the week rolled around, Tina addressed the elephant
Speaker 1: in the room and asked where my stuff was, and
Speaker 1: I told her I didn't have anything, and she accused
Speaker 1: me of lying to her. She said I had never
Speaker 1: planned on coming and slammed the door in my face.
Speaker 1: That was the last interaction I had with my best friend,
Speaker 1: a fight. I wanted to explain everything to her, but
Speaker 1: the words came out all wrong. I had a thousand
Speaker 1: things to tell her, but too few words to do it.
Speaker 1: I once read about something called Stockholm syndrome. My relationship
Speaker 1: with my mama and Price sort of felt like that.
Speaker 1: I stood there with my head against the door, knowing
Speaker 1: I ruined everything and that Tina wasn't going to leave now.
Speaker 1: And then I felt my chaperone behind me. I dug
Speaker 1: the envelope of cash out of my pocket and glanced
Speaker 1: at Tina's car, And when I turned around to finally
Speaker 1: acknowledge the hat man, I saw a cardinal land on
Speaker 1: Grandma's bird feeder behind him. I realized something, and I
Speaker 1: let out a quiet laugh. The only way to get
Speaker 1: Tina out of Price now was to give the hat
Speaker 1: man what he wanted. I walked toward the railroad tracks.
Speaker 1: A song came into my head. It was one of
Speaker 1: the few country songs I couldn't find a way to
Speaker 1: make fun of. It was about a guy who came
Speaker 1: back home from the war and found out the love
Speaker 1: of his life had gotten married. He was heartbroken over it,
Speaker 1: and no matter how hard his friends tried to get
Speaker 1: him to move on, he gave in to his demons
Speaker 1: and he took his own life. Lately, I was feeling
Speaker 1: sympathetic to the lyrics. Friends tried to brighten healed the
Speaker 1: heart in his chest, but death offered comfort, so he
Speaker 1: joined him instead. I walked to the train tracks with
Speaker 1: a hat man by my side. I heard my mama
Speaker 1: heckling me from the trees, but this time I tuned
Speaker 1: her out. I stood in the center of the rails,
Speaker 1: closed my eyes and waited for the subtle vibration of
Speaker 1: the metal north to south, I thought to myself. Locomotive's
Speaker 1: blaring horn sounded in my ears. I smiled, and for
Speaker 1: the first time, I was about to get something right,
Speaker 1: and for the life of me, Tina and I were
Speaker 1: finally going to leave Price. When Tina and I crossed
Speaker 1: the border into Colorado, I pushed my luck and fussed
Speaker 1: with the radio, but the knob gurgled and crackled under
Speaker 1: my fingers. Tina hit the dash with her fists and
Speaker 1: cussed at it and found a station again. I smiled
Speaker 1: an awkward apology and looked at the scenery out the
Speaker 1: open window that had changed from wide open Nebraska planes
Speaker 1: to wide open Colorado planes. I felt excitement creep up
Speaker 1: from my stomach, and as if it shared the feeling,
Speaker 1: the damn radio crackled again, and in the field outside
Speaker 1: my window, I saw the hat man. When we passed
Speaker 1: the sign for Jewlesburg, Tina pulled off the road on
Speaker 1: an unmarked exit and made her way down an old
Speaker 1: westbound gravel path until it ended. She put the car
Speaker 1: in park and we stared out at the scenery ahead
Speaker 1: of us. There it was the same dead tree looking
Speaker 1: out over the same low rolling hills. I looked at
Speaker 1: the picture on the dash and smiled. We had actually
Speaker 1: made it. It really is the end of the road,
Speaker 1: I said, with a smirk. Tina didn't respond. She grabbed
Speaker 1: the jerky and duct tape in one hand and the
Speaker 1: cardinal box in the other and got out. I followed
Speaker 1: her to the front of the car and stood behind
Speaker 1: her with my hand on her shoulder. She took her
Speaker 1: sunglasses off and stared ahead at the wide open terrain,
Speaker 1: thinking something to herself and coming to a conclusion or
Speaker 1: two that she didn't share with me. And then she
Speaker 1: opened the box. The funeral home had crewmated my remains
Speaker 1: for free because I had no family, and Tina paid
Speaker 1: with her own money for the cardinal to be handpaided
Speaker 1: on the urn. She let the wind spread my ashes
Speaker 1: for her and cried as the millions of pieces of
Speaker 1: Francis Brenda Hooper spread across the plains. I wanted to
Speaker 1: comfort her and tell her it wasn't me and those ashes,
Speaker 1: that I wasn't bound to that urn. But she needed
Speaker 1: to say goodbye to me. She needed to say goodbye
Speaker 1: to price. If that's how she needed to do it,
Speaker 1: then that was all right with me. When the box
Speaker 1: was empty, Tina put the jerky and duct tape inside
Speaker 1: and closed it again. She ran her thumb over the cardinal,
Speaker 1: and with all of her strength, she threw that thing
Speaker 1: as hard as she could into the grass ahead of her. Then,
Speaker 1: to my unfathomable relief, she finally spoke to me. He
Speaker 1: was writing about you, you know, Tina said, her voice
Speaker 1: breaking clawed Eugene Shaw. He didn't know you, but he
Speaker 1: was writing about you. I squeezed her shoulder and felt
Speaker 1: kind of proud. My best friend thought mister Shaw's big
Speaker 1: old words could describe simple old me. To our right,
Speaker 1: the hat man appeared toothpicking his mouth, hands in his pockets,
Speaker 1: leaning against his old Chevrolet with the big fenders and
Speaker 1: bullet lights. He stared into the open plane and then
Speaker 1: looked at me and tipped his hat. Tina stared at
Speaker 1: that spot ahead of her for another minute and sniffled,
Speaker 1: and then she wiped her eyes and put her sunglasses on.
Speaker 1: Over the mess that a girl. I thought, if any
Speaker 1: kid from Price had a chance of making it in
Speaker 1: the world, it was her. And when she walked back
Speaker 1: to the car, I let her go alone. And then
Speaker 1: I grinned. Julesburg wasn't the end of the road, it
Speaker 1: was the beginning. I let my eyes get lost in
Speaker 1: the scenery ahead of me, A dull sage and slate
Speaker 1: colored grass had suddenly erupted in color, and the ground
Speaker 1: under my feet was warm and familiar, as if it
Speaker 1: had been waiting on me all that time. And I
Speaker 1: looked at the hat man. You hear that, mister shaw,
Speaker 1: I asked him with a big goofy grin on my face.
Speaker 1: He took the toothpick out of his mouth and shook
Speaker 1: his head curiously. The only sound was of the light
Speaker 1: breeze blowing over the rolling hills. Mama's voice was finally gone.
Speaker 1: I closed my eyes and savored the silence. Exactly, I said.
Speaker 1: Back in her car, Tina turned the engine on and
Speaker 1: looked one last time at the dead tree and rolling hills.
Speaker 1: Then she narrowed her eyes and leaned forward over the
Speaker 1: dash to see better. Sitting on a branch in the
Speaker 1: middle of the tree was a cardinal. It hopped from
Speaker 1: branch to branch, higher and higher in the tree till
Speaker 1: it reached the top. She heard its hauntingly beautiful trill
Speaker 1: and watched it fly toward her. It leaped over the
Speaker 1: hood of her car and then took off into the sky.