Dakota (Ch 5)

Seattle was nice. San Fransisco was okay. Los Angeles was dreadful. Tijuana was an experience. A pretty awesome experience. From there the journey got fuzzy. Perhaps it was the tequila. Or the marijuana. Memories were like floating feathers in her mind. They never quite rested on a solid surface. They left no lasting impression. They alighted for a moment, a flicker, an instant, and the flash of coherence was gone. She only knew that her truck had taken her there. And she knew now that it had brought her back. She didn't want to be here again. She hated Dakota. She had waited until that piece of plastic freedom was in her hand. Then she ran. She ran. Her dad's truck sat dormant in the garage. Used only on occassion throughout the woods, moving firewood, hauling trash, but then it was hers. She gripped the wheel, pressed the gas, and never looked back. Until now. She had no choice. The money was gone. The men. There were a lot of men. She gave herself to them for a dollar, a meal, a place to stay. But it was better then Dakota. In her eyes, it was.

She was the baby. She came along much later than Jason and Jake. Janie always rebelled. She never followed the rules. At eight, she dyed her hair pink and pierced her own eyebrow. That was the year that Jay had moved to Chicago. Jake followed. She was stuck. She lost it. That's what they said. Her parents, they were afraid. They didn't know what to do. She liked playing the part. She wanted to alienate herself. It wasn't difficult in Wessington. But her parents loved her.

That spring day. It was unseasonably warm. Warm for Dakota. She remembered not needing a jacket. She remembered how many steps it took her to get to the side of the truck. She remembered where her mom was. She remembered hearing the sound of the chainsaw coming from behind the house. Dad was clearing a fallen tree. It had come down during a winter storm. It lay covered in snow for months. She grabbed her bag. She grabbed her keys. She got in the truck and said goodbye to Dakota. It was a final goodbye. She never intended to come back.

Four years. It had only been four years. And here she was. Wessington. She cringed when she drove past the sign. She didn't feel welcomed.

"I hope it's not just Mom and Dad."

She glanced in the mirror, rubbed her lips together, the shine spread from top to bottom. She was different. She wasn't the scared girl that had run. She knew what men wanted. She had given it to them. The only evidence that remained of who she was was the piercing over her left eye, and the same dirty red truck that had taken her over thousands of miles.

"I hope Jay and Jake are home again. I hope they are done with Chicago--but they had jobs. They did it right. They got out of here. I've gotta face this. They'll all just be happy I'm home. It's OK. I need a drink."

She longed for the bottle. Was there still one under the seat. She held the wheel in one hand and searched desperately. Whiskey. Empty. She reached further, completely ignoring the road in front of her. Gin. Empty. There was more. If she could reach. She strained, looked up for a minute. She jerked the wheel back to the left, swerving out of the gravel, avoiding the pines approaching with rapid speed, and returned to the pavement. She kept reaching. She felt the narrow top of the bottle. She had it between her fingers. But she just couldn't quite, she couldn't quite--there. Got it. Tequila.

"Hello, my friend."

She drank liberally.

"You see, Mexico is good for something."

She took another swig from the bottle. Replaced the cap and tossed it on the seat beside her. Now she was ready. Now she could do this.

It had been so long. She didn't quite remember anything about Wessington. Again, floating feathers. She grasped at them without success. She wanted to remember. For the first time. Pain made her cringe. She flicked on her signal and pulled into a parking lot, into a space and left the truck running. Her head fell to the wheel. She rubbed her neck. Deep breath. Deep breath.

"I'm almost there."

A tap resounded on the glass at her left. She sat up abruptly, turning to look out the window. It took a moment. It wasn't instantaneous. But then a single feather came to rest.

"Jake!"

She screamed, throwing her arms around him. She hugged him. She didn't want to let go.

"Janie. Janie, what are you doing here? I'm so glad to see you. I mean recognized the truck. I knew. I knew it was you. I'm so glad that you've finally come home."

"Jake. I've missed you. I missed you the most. You're the only one I really missed. How long have you been back in Wessington?"

"Why don't we do this at home. I'd much rather talk about this in front of a warm fire. It'll be snowing soon. I need to grab a few things at the store, in case it turns to something more, but I'm so glad to have you back for Christmas! Follow me over to Murphy's. I'll run in and then you can follow me home."

"Alright. Thanks. To be honest, I don't really remember how to get there."

"You don't remember Wessington, where we lived."

Over her shoulder I saw the bottle on the seat. I understood.

"Um, well, Jake--I've got a story to tell too."

"Save it. Just follow me. I've missed you!"

She dropped her head. Half of a smile crept across her face. She kicked at a stone at her feet. I put my hand on her shoulder. Lifted her chin with the other.

"Janie. We've all made mistakes. We all have a past. There are things we remember. Things we forget. And things we wish we could. You'll always be my little sister."

"Jake--"

"Just follow me, Janie."