The Hitchhiker Story from The Summer That Changed Us

Once back inside the house, I notice what I’d missed when I first arrived. Every inch of counter space is covered with disposable foil pans full of food, courtesy of every church in town. One thing’s for certain. A small town’s love language is always a casserole.

“What are we going to do with all this food?” Mom asks as she tries to make space in the fridge.

I peer over her shoulder to see if I can identify a way to create more space. “We could freeze a couple of things.”

Mom takes some things around, then wedges in a breakfast casserole. “The freezer’s full too.”

“I’ll have another refrigerator delivered tomorrow,” a low, smooth voice says behind me.

Ian.

I swear the man keeps turning up like a bad penny.

“Oh, hello, Ian,” Mom says with very little warmth.

My dad pushes past Ian and into the kitchen. “I can buy my own damn refrigerator.”

“I know that, Beau. I just figured you’re a little preoccupied, and I can take that off your plate.” There’s not an ounce of defensiveness in Ian’s tone.

My dad stands looking into the fridge for a moment, then nods.

Ian nods back.

I guess we’re getting a new refrigerator.

“How’re you holdin’ up, Hope?” Ian asks.

“I’m okay. June’s in the living room. I assume that’s why you’re here.”

He looks a little rattled by my dismissive tone. “Um … Yeah.”

I nod and gesture toward the living room. “Well, she’s in there holding court.”

He chuckles. “Sounds like her.”

I can’t control the smile that pulls at my lips. “Yeah, it does.”

Since word of her terminal diagnosis, old friends of hers have been coming by to visit. Everyone loves June, so there’s been a steady stream of people in and out of our house for the last couple of days. There’s also been a lot of laughter and tears, but mostly laughter. Based on some of the stories, it’s a wonder she lived this long.

My parents have heard stories about her that I’m sure they wish they hadn’t when she was a teenager. I didn’t know about either, since I was married and living in Dallas by the time she was in high school.

Ian moves into the living room, and I follow. Sure enough, June is sitting in the recliner with her group of high school friends sitting around her, laughing.

He goes to her, and when she sees him, it’s as if she has just stepped out into the sun after a month in a cave.

As much as Ian’s presence irritates me, I would never tell him he couldn’t be here, especially when I see how happy she is to see him. I try to ignore the dark, ugly sensation spreading through my chest. I’m a little appalled at the fierceness of my desire for her to still be mad at him, and therefore still on my side.

I’m a terrible person. I should want him here if he makes June happy.

I should.

But the truth be told, I am not.

Ian leans down to kiss June’s forehead. “Hey, Bug. How you doin’?”

“Oh, you know, dyin’.”

He pulls up a chair next to June’s recliner. “Bummer.”

“Tell me about it.”

Nervous laughter from June’s friends skitters through the room like water drops popping over a hot stove. They clearly don’t understand the relationship between Ian and my sister. Their humor has always been dark, blunt, and crass.

I’m sure Ian instinctively knows that June doesn’t want to break down in front of all these people. But the lines etched in Ian’s face show how much being so casual about this is costing him.

“June, did you ever tell your parents about the night we hitched a ride with the serial killer?” Dave, June’s best guy friend in high school, asks.

“No, she didn’t,” Mom says and hands June a bottle of water.

Dave laughs. “Y’all might want to sit down for this one.”

“Oh, Lord,” Mom says and sits on the arm of the recliner.

June leans her head against Mom's arm. “It’s not that bad, Mom.”

“Mm-hmm,” Mom says.

“It was the night we got June’s car stuck in the mud.” Dave looks at my dad. “Remember that?”

Dad shakes his head. “Do I remember? Hell, boy, I thought I was going to have to take the damn thing straight to the scrap yard. I never did find out how y’all got mud all over the inside of the car. It was on the roof and all over the interior of the back window.”

All of June’s friends crack up.

“You really don’t want to know that part, Mr. Russ,” her friend Shea says.

“Anyway,” Dave says to get the attention of the room again. “We got stuck in the mud, so June and I were going to walk back into town to get help.”

“Why didn’t you just call someone from your cell phone?” My niece, Chloe, asks.

“No cell phones back then,” June says.

“So, we’re walking,” Dave continues. “And June decides she’s tired, so she sticks her thumb out at the next car to drive by. Mind you, it’s 1:00 a.m. at this point.” He rubs his buzzed head, and June giggles. Clearly, there’s something they’re not saying.

Dave clears his throat. “Anyway, this guy stops, and we get into the back seat. After a few minutes of driving, June asks—”

“Why’d you pick us up?” June takes up the storytelling. “We could be serial killers.”

Dave shakes his head. “Of course, we’re laughing like idiots because we think the whole situation is hilarious.”

“What did he say?” Chloe asks.

“He said…” Dave’s words get caught in his laughter.

June tries. “He said…” She takes several breaths to try to get her amusement under control. “He said…” She blows out one last breath. “‘What if I am?’ Then he locked the doors.”

Mom’s hand goes to her chest. “Oh, dear Lord.”

“So we’re sitting next to each other holding hands and freakin’ out,” Dave says.

“Especially when he passed the first two exits to Bonedalia,” June sputters out.

“At least you had each other,” Mom says.

June shakes her head and points at Dave, who’s always been a big, tough guy. “Hell, this idiot was cryin’ like a baby. I was the one coming up with an escape plan.”

“I don’t remember a plan,” Dave says.

“The plan was to shove your big ass at him, then run like hell. Survival of the fittest, bud.”

The whole room erupts in laughter.

I laugh too, but mostly I’m just enjoying seeing June happy. When I see her like this, it’s hard to believe that she’s at the end of her life. She’s not even forty years old. Despair runs a lap around my chest, constricting my ability to breathe.

Dave shakes his head. “Of course, that was your plan.”

June shrugs. “Hey, at that point, you were the weakest link.”

“How did you get away?” Chloe asks.

“The guy abruptly pulled over on the side of the road and told us to get out. We nearly broke our necks gettin’ out of that car,” Dave says.

When the laughter dies down, June reaches out to Dave. “There’s nobody else I’d rather nearly die with than you, big guy.”

He takes her hand. “Same goes, troublemaker.” The big ol’ tear that runs down his cheek sets the whole room to crying.

And the elephant takes another swing on the trapeze.