The Stranger

How did this happen? I look across the seat of the pick-up truck at the man driving it. He's scary. He looks like a skinhead with his bald head. The hair doesn't grow on the top anymore, so he shaves off all of it, except for the hair growing out of what might be called his neck, if there was a clear definition of where it stops and his torso begins. His body is so large that his stomach is actually pressed against the steering wheel. I wonder that he is able to turn. There is a mean look permanently plastered to his face. If you were to see him walking down the street, you would get out of his way. He enjoys the fact that he intimidates people, "I'm not prejudiced, I hate everyone" he likes to say. I loathe him and the feeling is mutual. Which makes me wonder again, how did this happen? Why am I on my way to Baltimore with this stranger when my mom and all my brothers and sisters are in the van behind us? Rebecca should be here with him. She's his little pet. She worships the ground he walks on, and he is so proud of her. When he introduces us to people, he will say "This is Rebecca. She's the oldest. She can ride any horse you put her on and groom it like a show horse. This one here, she's worthless. I can't get her to do anything."
I silently stare out the window at the blur of trees flying by. I have to turn my face away so he doesn't see the tears spilling down my cheeks. Even at a time like this, I can't let him see any weakness. He would only use it to hurt me. We are on our way to John Hopkins hospital to see my grandmother one last time before they pull the plug on her life support. She has suffered a massive stroke and is now brain dead. The life support is keeping her body alive, so the family has one last chance to see her and say goodbye, even though she's not really there to say goodbye to.
Bitterness erupts in me. I can't even cry like I want to because I'm with him. Everyone knows we can't stand each other. We never talk, we only argue and exchange insults. So why are we alone riding together when any one of my brothers or sisters could have gone with him? I could be in the van with my mom right now sobbing my heart out. Instead, I'm alone with him in this awkward silence trying to hold back my tears.
My hands shake as I wipe the tears from my face. I sniffle as I gulp back a sob. His voice breaks the silence, "Your grandmother always liked to tell this story about when you were about three and she would let you kids play in the backyard, but she would tell you not to go all the way to the back where the long grass was 'cause there could be snakes back there. No sooner would she turn her back and you would be out there in the long grass playing. She would spank you and spank you, but you would never listen. You'd always go right where she told you not too."
"I know, I know, I never listened and threw horrible temper tantrums that's why no one ever wanted to baby sit me."
"You don't understand! She would brag about you and tell this story because she was so proud of you. You were always her favorite grandchild 'cause she knew you would always stand up for what you believed in no matter what. You'd never let anyone tell you how to think or what to do."
He was never an affectionate man, but in the hospital, he squeezed my shoulder while I held my grandmother's lifeless hand and said goodbye. We rode home together alone and in silence, a father and daughter, and this time I didn't wonder why.