the ride

at the truckstop debbie had struck me as one of those unbearably perky types: she seemed happy with her existence as wife to a sadist asshole and mother of three bellicose pieces of shit. in the car she became quiet, and her face settled in a way that looked like it was being tugged down by the weight of her misery. her mouth, when not active, formed a definite frown. debbie seemed lonely and defeated.

from time to time as he drove, ron would interrupt the din of backseat hand-to-hand combat with a slam on the steering wheel and a promise to "bitch slap all three of ya" if they kept it up. i was seated behind ron next to max who spent most of the ride bent over the back of his seat pounding his fists against his brothers and calling them faggots. codi and benji sat behind us in an indeterminite tangle of limbs. i kept as much distance as possible between myself and the sibling violence: i sat with my forehead pressed against window and made a game of blurring my vision enough so that the trash on the side of the rode morphed into pretty blurs of color.

half an hour after leaving the truckstop benji began to complain that his stomach hurt and that he needed to go to the bathroom. this really ticked ron off. he was "trying to make good time." he smiled when he informed benji that there was no way in hell he was going to pull off the road and that he better learn how to hold it. benji fell silent. then he started to cry. codi and max giggled at first, but soon they were calling out to their mother in high pitched whines "mommy he's gotta go! make him stop!" here debbie attempted to reason with ron. she said it was her fault that benji felt sick because she let him eat to much at lunch.

the next thing i knew, ron was pulling over onto the side of the road. he slammed the brake and we all jerked forward then back again. ron snapped around in his seat, "i told you i wasn't gonna pull off of the stinkin' highway, benji. what are you a baby! you gotta go so bad? get out of the car. if you gotta go so bad you're gonna go right here on the road in front of the whole world! go you big baby! get out of the car!"

we were all silent except for debbie who only managed to blurt out one pleading "ronnie-" before he told her shut up. benji sat behind me whimpering. finally ron said that benji had until the count of three to get out and do his business, otherwise he was getting back on the road for good and benji would just have to shit himself. benji got up and made his way out of the car in silence. he tried to obscure himself from the view of passersby by crouching down on the shoulder side of the car, but ron barked out the window that he was to go around to the rear bumper so that everyone could see him as they drove by. benji weakly complied.

his face was bright red and streaked with tears when he reappeared at debbie's window asking for tissues. she handed him a brand new purse pack of kleenex. ron didn't insist on making him walk back to the rear of the car to clean himself up so benji just stood there by his mom's window with zombie eyes and set to work. the shitty tissues came to life as he dropped them: they blew around the ground at his feet with each car that whizzed by. when there were no more tissues left, benji pulled up his pants and got back into the car.