Status: Pretty Much Alive

My Wild Love

Burnt Rice

Jim and I held our thumbs out towards headlights passing in the night. We had decided early on to hitch hike our way to Venice Beach for the evening.

It had only been five days now, but Jim and I were practically inseparable. By day we discussed and quarreled over philosophy avidly on my front porch. Hunched towards each other, we claimed the sidewalk as our own as the sun beat down on our shoulders. Walking around town and laughing at clueless tourists that passed our way was an activity we both enjoyed too much for our own good. Most wore Hawaiian shirts with cameras slung around their necks and we worked hard to place their names and occupations from only their appearances.

In the night, we feasted on leftover rice that always seemed to burn in the pan to our hearts content; I called it the poor man's diet. When the stars appeared, Jim lounged on my sofa working his way through my book collection. I had seen the living room light on through the cracks in my bedroom door night after night. Sometimes I would fall asleep trying to wait for him to turn the light off. But I’d always miss it. I had an inkling that he was nocturnal.

For this passing moment, I would just feel content if someone would pull over and give the two of us a ride. We had been trying to get one for an hour or two now. Or maybe it just felt that long.

I was about to give up when a station wagon pulled to the side of the road. The driver and his wife were busy arguing in the front seat. It looked to me like she was the one forcing him to pick us up. It must have been some motherly instinct in her.

The man strapped in thr driver's seat looked like he was in his mid forties. A bald spot glistened on his head, while he scowled sternly at us. There were a few wrinkles on his face and the look in his eyes was a sharp, intelligent one. It appeared as if he had served time in the military in the prime of his life.

His wife seated beside him was kind looking. She had a thin body structure and short brown hair curled around her face in spirals. It looked like it was starting to gray at the roots; welcome invaders. Her smile was warm and I could just imagine her happily cleaning around the house, fretting that the meal she had slaved over would burn in the oven. With a hand, she motioned for us to get in the car.

“Hello.” She greeted once the door was open, looking between us. “Where are you off to?”

“Venice Beach.”

“That’ll be okay, Charlie.” She was saying to her husband quietly. “It’s only a little out of our way. We can’t let these kids walk there.”

He mumbled something unintelligible.

“Come on in, you two.”

Eagerly, we climbed in the back of the station wagon. That was the first time I noticed they had their son with them. He looked around fifteen or sixteen and had short dark brown hair resembling his mother's. Scooting to make room, I sat next to him and smiled trying to be friendly. Blushing, his eyes grew wider and he gave a tentative smile before looking away.

Jim laughed quietly at the exchange, and elbowed him swiftly in the ribs.

Feeling the awkward silence set in, I started to make conversation, “Thanks for picking us up. It felt like we were waiting forever.”

“No problem, dear. It’s dangerous for the two of you to be out this late trying to hitch hike.” The woman gave a disapproving look, directed at the crazies out there that would kill yound adults for sport. “There are a lot of crazy people out there. It's not the 1950's anymore; this is a new decade.”

Jim started rambling, “Yeah, yeah. Hitch hikers on the road can be crazy too. I once heard a story where a hitch hiker had a… a sort of panic attack for no particular reason and killed the man who offered him a ride. Just, chopped him into little pieces and hid them in the desert all in different places.” He paused for dramatic effect. “They never caught the killer either.”

Up front, I could see the panicked look on the women’s face and the man tightened his grip on the wheel. Their son shifted uneasily in his chair. Jim just looked amused with himself.

“I… uh, think that was a movie.” I spoke trying to get the calm atmosphere back. I really did not want to walk all the way to Venice Beach.

The man, Charlie, was obviously done with small talk. Blatantly, He turned up the volume of the radio to try to tune us out.

Fuzzily, the radio announcer was saying, “In World News, the war in Vietnam rages on with a rising death toll. No set number is being released to the press, but it’s estimated there was twice as many deaths as last week…”

Sighing, I shook my head. Jim looked at me, “Don’t like the war?”

“I just don’t know why we can’t all sit and work out our problems. In school, you’re told to not fight even if someone is fighting you. How come our government can’t be the same way?”

“Well, what I figure is, it goes against human nature. All throughout history with the Mayans, Hitler, Napoleon, even Alexander the Great there’s been a need to fight in battle and kill the opponent, to steal what’s not ours… that’s mostly greed, and to rape women in their tiny village huts.” Jim paused and continued, “If we stop that, then we stop human nature and become alien to our own beings.”

I sighed once again. “You have a point. There’s been so much trial and error with peace throughout history. And I think if we could all live in harmony then we’d already be doing it. But if we give up, then there’s no hope for future generations. So why not believe?”

Jim was nodding his head and was about to reply when Charlie interrupted. It wasn’t clear if he was talking to us or about what was on the radio.

“I’m tired of this hippie nonsense. Dodging the draft? In my day men lined up for miles to serve their country! There wasn’t one boy I knew he didn’t want to fight the war for America. They would go and they’d be happy about it. If you died, then you died. But you had the joy in your heart knowing you protected and honored the United States. The men today are putting their fathers to shame! Kids just don't understand the sacrifices.”

After his outburst, the car was silent for the remainder of the trip. Sitting there without expression, all of us were afraid to say a word. Everyone except Jim.

He had a smile plastered on his face that never faded all the way to Venice Beach.
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Not happy with this chapter. :/
Comments? Enjoy!