Rest of Your Life

Rest of your life
By Joe Martin
John glanced quickly at his watch and hurriedly tied his heavy boots, in a rush to get ready for work. All he had to do now was grab a ball cap and jacket. Maybe they would get out of the house on time. Mondays suck, we are rushing even more than normal.
“Did you put air in the car tire like you said you would?” called his wife, Nicole.
John thought of the compressor in the garage, how he could have taken ten minutes to put air in the tire, and how he put it off all weekend.
“No baby, I forgot.” Shit, I’m going to catch it now. “It should be okay until I get back. Don’t worry.”
“Damn it John. Why did I think you would actually do something you said you would do?” Nicole was busy getting ready, brushing her long curly brown hair, putting on lipstick and blush. She picked out her low heeled shoes that matched her navy skirt and was only sliding a little on the hardwood floors.
“It’s not that bad. If you think it really needs it, just use the air pump at the gas station to hold it over until I get back, it’s only a three day run this time.”
His wife was almost to the door and he tried to head her off before she got there.
“That’s not the point. You never do what I ask you to do. Never.” She brushed passed him, raising her hand and turning her head to avoid his attempted goodbye kiss. She passed so close that John got an intoxicating whiff of her perfume. “Go play with your damn trains.”
He followed her out the door and as Nicole went to her shiny red car, John finally thought of something to say. “You’re not even going to give me a kiss? Fine!“ Deliberately placing his hands on his hips and taking a defiant posture, he watched as Nicole spun her Grand Am’s tires on the gravel driveway. Standing on the front porch, the morning warmth of the low autumn sun felt comforting on his face, especially considering the chill in the air. Grinding his palms in his eyes, John growled in frustration. He repeated in his head over and over: Always do what Nicole asks me to do. Glancing down at his wrist he checked his watch and climbed into his dusty black pick-up. Tearing down the back road to the depot, John continued repeating those words in his head.
* * * * *
Nicole finally cooled down after work, she wasn’t really that upset. Filling the tire with air wasn’t that big a deal. Hell, she could change a tire faster than most guys. It was the nagging doubt that John purposely wasn’t doing the little things for her anymore. Now she was more concerned that he might be mad at her since she ran out without giving him a kiss that morning. She tried to think of something nice she could for him as she drove home. While her mind was wandering, she almost did not see the white Mustang pull out in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, swerved, and pounded on the horn. For good measure she gave the finger to the worthless driver as she went past. “Asshole!” she yelled. She took a few deep breaths to collect herself and watched the Mustang pull off the road in her mirror.
Nicole quietly drove the rest of the way to the little road that ran between the big hill and thick brush that separated the road from the river. When she turned onto the back road leading up to the house, she heard the unmistakable grinding noise of a flat left rear tire. She yanked the steering wheel hard to the right and pulled over. As she stomped the brake pedal, the wheels locked and slid a short distance through the pebbles on the shoulder. Son of a bitch. Just perfect. Can’t do a damned thing I ask.
Nicole climbed out of the car and went to get the spare. Even though the sun had nearly set it was only a little cool, so she left her jacket in the car. Luckily, there was just enough light for her to see what she was doing. While she was looking in the trunk she barely noticed that a car had pulled up behind her. She felt the anger boiling up in her chest as she rummaged through all the assorted stuff in the trunk as she looked for the jack.
She gasped sharply and flinched when a voice behind her said, “Looks like you’ve got some trouble.”
Nicole turned and backed away slightly as she surveyed the white Mustang and man beside it. She felt something cold and heavy drop in her belly. The man was wearing a baseball cap with grease stains, a t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, a ragged pair of jeans, and black hiking boots. He stood with his arms crossed and his left leg pushed out to the side. His dark eyes never stopped moving, roaming all over her.
“No I’m fine. Thanks.”
“Well, I would be glad to help.” He walked deliberately up to her. “What do you have there?”
“Um, it’s nothing. The thing is caught there. I’ll be fine as soon as I get the jack.”
“Oh yeah, I think you will be fine.”
Nicole turned away from him and fumbled rapidly with the jack, yanking clumsily. She was trembling now making it harder to remove the jack. He grabbed her by the wrist and she almost fell away. She was shocked by how cold and rough his skin was.
“Relax,” he said with a broad grin on his dirty mouth. “I do this every day.”
Nicole certainly didn’t feel reassured by that. The look in his spooky eyes and tone in his voice made her belly turn. Gingerly she backed away, and he let go of her arm. She didn’t want him messing with the car, but she wanted to turn her back to him even less.
He slowly and deliberately open his lighter, lit a cigarette, and exhaled purposely towards Nicole. He dragged the spare and tools from the trunk and carried them to the flat. As he walked he leered at Nicole. “You got a name honey.”
Even his voice was creepy. Nicole crossed her arms, pulling her elbows tight against her sides. “Just can you hurry please. I’m in a hurry.”
He took a long drag on the cigarette and stared at her. Leaving the cigarette to dangle between his thin lips, he picked up the tire iron.
“Well I’m just trying to be friendly. My name is Tom Headly, but people just call me Rock.”
“Thanks Mr. Headly,“ she stammered, “but my husband is waiting for me.” Nicole squirmed and dug her heel in the dirt.
“Uh huh, I see how it is. Well, there you go, good as new.”
“Great, thanks.” Nicole moved quickly toward the car, she wanted to get the hell away from this jerk. She brushed past the man trying to take the most direct route possible. As she went passed she gave an uncomfortable half smile and just caught the look in his eye. A cold chill made the hairs on her neck stand up when she saw the black emptiness in his eyes.
Suddenly he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her up against her Grand Am. With a mean grin he said, “Now wait a minute. You never did tell me your name. Aren’t you going to be friendly and tell me your name? I mean, after all you know my name don’t you? I heard you…when you drove past…you called me an ASSHOLE!”
Nicole froze.
* * * * *
John had finally finished shunting all the cars and was ready to head down the line. It was after dark, but then it gets dark early in winter. He looked at his watch and thought about Nicole and how she would be getting home soon. After a final check of the gauges to make sure everything was in order, he settled in for the long ride. It wasn’t long before the train went past the back road that led to their house. There were several police cars and flashing blue and red lights, but it was to far for John to see what was happening. Hmm, must have been an accident. I hope there wasn’t anybody hurt too badly. I’ll have too remember to ask Nicole if she saw anything. He triggered the horn, one long blast and two short ones, just as he did every time he chugged past the road to their house. John nudged the throttle forward a little and the train strained to pick up speed. Once they passed the prison on the edge of town, the conductors were allowed to build to full speed.
* * * * *
The back road was completely dark except for the intermittent flashes of blue and red light. Several police investigators shined flashlights around searching for anything that might be evidence. A deputy walked briskly to the sheriff’s car and leaned to the window. “Sheriff, we found a set of tire tracks heading away from the Mustang.”
“Headley must have abandoned the Mustang and stolen another car to slow us down,“ the Sheriff said. He sat behind the steering wheel watching the men work, silently hoping there wouldn’t be any more bad news. “Keep looking, see what else we can find. Maybe we can determine what kind of car we are supposed to be looking for now.”
A voice called from behind the brush near the river, “Sheriff! We found someone!”
Everyone turned toward in the direction of the voice. The Sheriff got out of his car and walked briskly towards the voice.
“But she is dead,” the voice called again.
The Sheriff stopped short. “God damn it.“ He pointed at the deputy and shouted orders. “Set up a crime scene and see if we can get an ID. That asshole must have stolen her car. Comb every fucking inch of this place, find everything you can so we can burn this son of a bitch.”
* * * * *
Just as everyone predicted, the trial was short. There was plenty of evidence, the killer was pretty sloppy. He had to plead not guilty, just in the bizarre chance that one out of twelve of his peers though maybe he did not do it. The only real question to decide was whether he would spend the rest of his life in prison waiting for a lethal injection, or the rest of his life in prison until he died of natural causes.
John went to the prison, he had a message to deliver. He was in a waiting area Surrounded by big steel doors, metal bars, and bullet proof glass. Somewhere there was the faint sound of music, like the old thin sound of a radio in a basement. Maybe Hank Williams “Lonesome Whistle?” John wasn’t sure. It seemed like he had been waiting an awfully long time. Finally, an over-inflated guard told him to come in and wait in a little booth. While he waited even longer, he looked at the glass pane that divided him from the other side of the little booth. It was scratched and not very clear, it had a milkiness to it. There were large bolts securing it to the walls of the booth and everything seemed to have dozens of layers of paint on it. A telephone receiver hung on the wall to John’s right, which seemed odd to him, but was just like in the movies.
Eventually he heard a faraway noise from the other side of the glass and the scraggly haired, lanky man that he had seen in court sat down across from him. Somewhere in the distance a train blew its horn. The wiry man looked at John suspiciously for a moment, picked up the receiver, and waited for John to pick up on his side.
“Who are you?” the convict said warily.
“Mr. Headly, my name is John…,” he could feel himself trembling, and something tightening in his chest. “And you killed my wife.” No sooner did the words come out of his mouth than he felt the emotions swell in his chest, rise through his throat, and fill his eyes.
“Aw hell man,” The criminal said as his head sagged. “I don’t need your shit,” and he started to hang up.
“No, wait! Please.” John pulled himself together, he knew he could do this and it would be worth it. He took a deep breath while they stared at each other apprehensively through the glass.
“I ain’t got nothing to say to you.”
“Just hear me out. What’s done is done and nobody can change that.” A train blew its horn as it rumbled in the distance.
“Yeah, no shit. And what the hell is going on with the damn train horn. It’s been making that racket all day. Did somebody die or something?”
“Anyway, like I was saying, what’s done is done. My wife and I never thought the death penalty was fair.” John focused on taking a breath and finding the strength to continue. “There is no one I would rather see dead this minute than you and if it was up to me, I wouldn’t speak a word to save you.”
“Blah, blah, blah.”
“Mr. Headly, you will never walk outside of these walls for the rest of your life. Whether that is a long time or a short time, no one can say. You can drag out your appeals and maybe get a couple more years before the state kills you, or maybe, they might let you die naturally, as an old man.”
“Hey look asshole, I’m really not interested in any of your bullshit. I have plenty of time on my hands now…time to rest…catch up on some reading.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had some other important plans, but listen…” John looked over the criminal to make sure he had his attention. “I’m going to do what I can to see that you spend a long, long time in this prison.” They both glanced to the side at the sound of another train’s horn.
"God damned train! That fucking noise is driving me crazy. I hate that shit."
“Oh, by the way, I work for the railroad. The guys said they would make sure they hit the horn whenever they went by… as a reminder. Every day. All day. For the rest of your life. So I guess you are right, somebody did die.” John replaced the receiver on its cradle, and turned to leave the little booth. As he walked away, he could hear someone screaming on the other side of the glass, and a train horn in the distance.