P for Park
by
Lisa Finch
Judy spotted the hitchhiker in the distance. She tightened her grip on the wheel. No, she wouldn’t stop.
Closer, she noticed his lemon yellow shirt and his jeans so pigment-faded they could hardly be called blue jeans. He could be her daughter, Gretchen’s age.
Poor kid. If only--
But he was a stranger. It was dangerous to pick up strangers.
Walt would be furious.
Of course, she wouldn’t tell him, although at least it would give them something to talk about.
Walt had his books and his moods; she had her watercolours and her friends.
Gretchen had gone off to university, leaving just the two of them, mismatched tea cups that didn’t belong in the same cupboard.
Now retired, she and Walt travelled. But it was all a distraction. No matter how far you went, you came home to yourselves.
Now she saw the hitchhiker stand taller at her approach.
Surely she could give him a lift.
But pragmatic Judy wasn’t a risk-taker.
Except…
Last week, she had stolen a packet of eye shadow. First, she’d been giddy at leaving the store undetected. Then came the dull realization: nobody noticed unremarkable her. Back home, she’d thrown it away under an old apron in the trash bin.
Yet here she was, in an equally reckless act, slowing her car and pulling over to the shoulder. What on earth was she doing? He could be a serial killer.
She looked at her gear shift. “P” for park. Or maybe peril.
The synopsis of her life might read, middle-aged woman headed for trouble!
She heard Walt’s voice in her head. “Don’t be stupid, Judy, you’re way past middle-aged.” He chuckled. “Unless you live to 122.”
Screw you, Walt.
The young man took a tentative step forward, his eyes wide.
Judy rolled down her window and unthawed her smile. “Need a ride?”
Gee, Captain Obvious, ya think? She cringed.
“Thank you so much!”
“Where are you going?”
“Seaforth.”
It was out of her way. She still had to--
What? Pick up new underwear for Walt? Fill her cart at Michaels to add to the art supplies she had at home, still in their shrink wrap?
Her day stretched out like a long, pale ribbon. She couldn’t see its end.
Seaforth was only two hours away, yet she’d never been.
“Okay, get in.”
Closer, she noticed his lemon yellow shirt and his jeans so pigment-faded they could hardly be called blue jeans. He could be her daughter, Gretchen’s age.
Poor kid. If only--
But he was a stranger. It was dangerous to pick up strangers.
Walt would be furious.
Of course, she wouldn’t tell him, although at least it would give them something to talk about.
Walt had his books and his moods; she had her watercolours and her friends.
Gretchen had gone off to university, leaving just the two of them, mismatched tea cups that didn’t belong in the same cupboard.
Now retired, she and Walt travelled. But it was all a distraction. No matter how far you went, you came home to yourselves.
Now she saw the hitchhiker stand taller at her approach.
Surely she could give him a lift.
But pragmatic Judy wasn’t a risk-taker.
Except…
Last week, she had stolen a packet of eye shadow. First, she’d been giddy at leaving the store undetected. Then came the dull realization: nobody noticed unremarkable her. Back home, she’d thrown it away under an old apron in the trash bin.
Yet here she was, in an equally reckless act, slowing her car and pulling over to the shoulder. What on earth was she doing? He could be a serial killer.
She looked at her gear shift. “P” for park. Or maybe peril.
The synopsis of her life might read, middle-aged woman headed for trouble!
She heard Walt’s voice in her head. “Don’t be stupid, Judy, you’re way past middle-aged.” He chuckled. “Unless you live to 122.”
Screw you, Walt.
The young man took a tentative step forward, his eyes wide.
Judy rolled down her window and unthawed her smile. “Need a ride?”
Gee, Captain Obvious, ya think? She cringed.
“Thank you so much!”
“Where are you going?”
“Seaforth.”
It was out of her way. She still had to--
What? Pick up new underwear for Walt? Fill her cart at Michaels to add to the art supplies she had at home, still in their shrink wrap?
Her day stretched out like a long, pale ribbon. She couldn’t see its end.
Seaforth was only two hours away, yet she’d never been.
“Okay, get in.”