Tell Me Why

A short story I wrote originally in Spanish inspired by the Neil Young song of the same name

Tell Me Why

A lone motorcycle sputtered down the road, struggling to to climb the gentle hills that dotted the landscape. It was old and rusted; the engine was constantly backfiring. The light on the front of the bike was the only thing in good repair, and it shone in front of the bike to light the way down the road. The driver, much like his motorcycle, was also struggling along.

He had been travelling for a long time; it had been a day since he last slept, several days since he slept indoors, and longer still since he had slept on a bed. He was exhausted.The neon sign that read “Joe’s Rest Stop” was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a long, long time. It was also his destination, not simply out of convenience, but because it was listed as his next stop.

He pulled into the empty parking lot in front of the building. It was a small, squat building, more befitting the name of a motel than inn, but for the time being  it was home. The rider came to a stop in a little parking space and put the leg down. He got off the bike and picked up a small package off the rear end. He wasn’t a large guy, the rider, he was rather average in most every way. He had short brown hair and was wearing an old milsurp jacket with thick denim blue jeans. His helmet was dark green and round; it sat snugly on his head, his goggles strapped to it.

He walked up to the door of the inn and flung it inwards with a kick, his hands occupied with the package. The bartender barely noticed it, in fact, he was expecting it.

“Hola courier, we’ve been expecting you,” The large man said in a thick Mexican accent.

“Thank god for that much, is there a room ready?” The rider, now courier, replied.

“Si, si, there is. But before that, come and have something to eat and drink, there are some things we must discuss,” Said the bartender as he cracked open a bottle of beer and placed a greasy sandwich on the bar. The courier sat down on the stool in front of his feast and began to dig in.

“Well José, there isn’t too much to tell you,” the courier said in between bites.”I have this one package for you, and you have one for me. This is just a routine trade off, isn't it? From here, I go farther west.”

“That’s true, all of it. But, I must warn you amigo, the road ahead is very dangerous. This is not like your other paths.”

“Really now? How so?” Replied the courier skeptically.

The bartender said nothing, he closed his eyes and raised his hand, sticking his index finger up to say “listen”. Suddenly, a loud whistling noise broke the silence, followed by a crash and boom. The building shook and the lights flickered. Then, as quickly as it happened, it was over.

“That.” said the bartender opening his eyes, “is the sound of the road ahead of you. It is the music of cannons and guns. A symphony of shells and bombs. True, you have ridden on dark highways and treacherous roads, but have you ever ridden through la tierra del fuego? The land of fire,” The bartender said solemnly, looking the courier in his eyes sternly.

“No… I don’t suppose I have,” was all the courier managed to say.

The door behind the bar opened and a woman entered the bar. Her skin was dark and her hair black. Her deep brown eyes were framed by the locks that fell around her face. The courier looked at her spellbound, she was the most beautiful thing for miles.

She muttered some things in Spanish to the bartender and walked off, exiting the door the courier came in.

“Listen to me hombre, I saw the way you looked at my daughter, don’t get any funny ideas,”  said the bartender, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” the courier responded, stammering his reply. “I left something at my bike, can I have the key to my room?”

“Here, room 205, she’s all prepped. No cable though, sorry,” The bartender handed the keys over and smiled a little at his own joke.

The courier took the keys and gave his thanks to the bartender. He quickly walked out of the door and looked around, he saw the girl. He walked over to her and tried to strike up a conversation.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Listen, boy,” the girl said harshly, “you’re not the first guy to ride to this inn and try to ‘get’ me, and I know you’re not the last. So, do us both a favor and leave me, it’ll be better for the both of us.”

“Geez, I don’t even know your name and you’re already telling me off. I just wanted some conversation,” replied the courier, surprised by the hostility.

“If conversation is all you want, you can talk to my father. i can never get him to shut up and I doubt that you could. As for my name, I can’t even give you that.”

“Why not?”

“The same reason you can’t give me your name. The same reason my father can’t give you his. As far as anyone is concerned, you don’t exist to us. Besides, you’ll only be here one night, it’s pointless.”

“Alright. I guess that’s fair. And I’m glad to hear of your dedication. But, before I go to my room and lay down, think about coming and saying hello at least. I’m lonely, and all I want is to see a pretty girl smile at me once before I ride off to la tierra del fuego. As your dad put it.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that you were headed West, that changes a few things. Listen, I won’t do much for you, but give me a little while to close up shop, then I might visit you for a few minutes, it’s the least I can do for a man going on a suicide mission.”

“Gracias, eso es muy simpática de tu.”

“And now you’re speaking Spanish to me,” the girl said smiling, “you've earned this smile from me. And since I can’t blame you for wanting someone other than my father to talk to you, I guess I can visit you for a little while.”

“You have no idea what it would mean to have some nice company after such a long time, thank you again.”

“No problemo. I’ll be there in an hour okay, you’ll hear the knock,” she said, before turning and walking back inside.

The courier walked up the stairs and unlocked his door. He stepped in, untied his old riding boots, and laid down on the bed, content in the knowledge that he was not going to be all alone for another night.