Chapter One- The Life

February 2012

Some where in the Canadian Tundra

My eyes open to the dim, blue morning light. I open the sleeping bag and sit up in the bed of the capped truck. A 2004 Chevy Silverado 2500 now serves as my home. I sealed the cap and windows for heat against the cold. Next to me is a large cooler with my rations, a small heater I have hooked up to an old tractor battery (not on at the moment), and a small table top grill sits on top of the cooler. 

I turn around and open the passage window between the cap and bed to retrieve my duffel bag with my clothes. Crawling out of the sleeping bag I slip on jeans and a button up flannel over my long johns. Then its zip up boots over wool socks. I open the back of the truck and stand up in the snow. Stretching out to crack my back and shoulders. Reaching back in i grab a knit cap and begin my run.

"You plan on continuing on like this? Stuck in the cold, living in the back of a truck all your life?"

"I enjoy it. The crisp crunch of snow in under my feet. No phone. No clingy patients. No debts. No commitment- that is the only one is to my health. I like waking up to the silence of my own life. A silence that rings complete in my own mind and body."

"You must certainly be forgetting about me," he chuckles.

I smile to myself but continue on my run. When we return to the truck, I remove my boots and get back in the truck. Laying down on my back I put my feet on a bar hanging from the roof and i grab the other above my eyes. I start my pull upland then move to crunches after. When I finish my routine I put on my boots and hop in the cab and head into town. There I do a load of laundry and take my showers in a local gym and make a trip to the grocery store. 

Today though, I'm making a trip to the bar as well. I haven't had a drink in about a month or two, so I think I can afford to enjoy a little.

"Call it what you want, but you're trying to drown out Amber."

I don't say anything as I enter the laundry mat. 

"Hey, Gordan. How's the tundra?" the owner, Jean, greets me in French.

"I'm good, Jean. It's warmer than it has been. But otherwise good," I answer with a smile.

Through high school and college I took French and became decent, as the years went on I practiced and taught myself in my free time. Making myself pretty fluent in the language.

I throw all my laundry in and read a book while I wait. Dexter seemed like an appropriate choice for a book. I liked what I seen of Showtime's version, so I figured I mine as well see the original creation. On average I spend close to two hours in here; switching clothes from the washer and dryer, caught in my reading, and the few other townies that come in from time to time make up for this long trip. But today was pretty short for time. Now that I had clean clothes I could go to the gym for my shower and dress into new clothes. In the mirror my full beard is combed with my hair and my black knit cap is replaced.

As I head to the bar I change my mind and decide to go to the package store and pick up an eight pack of Kokanee beer. I went up to the clerk and paid for my booze. Getting in the truck I put the box on the passenger seat and head back the wilderness. But on my way out of town, I witness a man and women having a confrontation. I'm ready to ignore it, but he back hands her. I step on the break, put the truck in park, and advance on the gentleman.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm may be a killer but I will not watch domestic violence."

I tap the man on the shoulder and smile, "Anything wrong?" I ask.

"No. F**k off, this doesn't concern you."

I chuckle a look him in the eyes, "It is. It is my concern when you beat a women."

He reaches out and grabs my throat, I tilt my head to the side and punch him in the ribs. He lets go and cringes back, I move forward and slam my knee into his ribs, dropping him to his knees. For good measure I bring my left leg up and bring my heel into his kidney. Squatting down next to his head I speak calmly.

"Now, I don't want to catch you beating her again or even raising a hand. If I see it again, I'll make you disappear. You notify anyone of this..altercation, I'll make you disappear. Start showing women some respect."

Standing up, I look at the young lady, smile with a nod before going back to my truck. Putting the truck in drive I head back to my dwelling. I take a bottle out of the box and pop the cap, sipping it as I truck along.

"Haven't you learned not to be the hero? I mean, that is half the reason why we are sitting out here in the back of a f*****g truck and not back in our little apartment! Before you had to get all lovely with a girl, I was happy with our life. Simple and mediocre, but I was happy. And you had to f**k it up!"

"Someone is in a bad mood," I laugh.

"F**k off,' Edward snaps.

"We switched roles my friend. You're the uptight and moody one now."

Edward stayed silent. When I got back to my dwelling, I dug a spot out in the snow and built a fire. Once it was well off, I sat in my mesh bag chair and played my violin. Beer in the cup holder, dirty enamel blue plate sits on a nearby rock.The violin soothing me to a calm medium. Night time animals can be heard moving around, breaking twigs and rustling tree branches. 

And this has been my life. Off the grid, accompanied by my violin and Edward. Not the greatest, but it's a life.

I hear larger foot steps coming from the woods behind me. I slowly reach behind me and grab my Colt .45, in one motion I stand and aim the gun. At the end of the barrel is the brunette women I saved. In her hands is a gray bag containing an item. I lower the gun and motion for her to sit next to the fire as I return to my seat.

"How can I help you?"

"Well...I heard the violin and I hoped it was you.." she takes a seat on a rock. " I wanted to thank you," she reaches her arm out with the bag.

I look at it carefully. I take it from her and open the bag. Inside is a B.C. Hat; waterproofed steer hide, crush-able, and flexible (so says the label).

"Why?" I ask, looking at it and then her.

"It's a thank you gift," she answers plainly.

I look at the hat again. This is the first time something like this has happened. I mean you're tipped or thanked with a hand shake, but this is a gift. It is just a hat to her, but this is something more to me. I remove my knit cap and replace it with this one.

"Good?" I ask.

"Perfect," she smiles and blushes.

May be this is the next step to moving on.

Reviews

[J.Carnevale]

wonderful. please continue