“The Road to Tucumcari”
December 25, 2014
Edna was
still crying as they pulled out of the driveway and headed in the direction of
Clear Lake where she and Don would spend a couple of days celebrating Christmas
with their family.
Trey did
not stand in the driveway to see his parents off. In fact, he hadn’t moved from
his seat at the edge of his bed, since the one-sided argument with his father. Trey
was beyond arguing and that really steamed his dad. It took just about
everything the man had to keep from driving his fist into his son’s face. What a
mess. Everything was so wrong.
Two hours
after his parents left Trey headed north in the opposite direction his parents
had taken. The plan was to drive until the snow stopped him. He envisioned
himself leaving his Jeep Cherokee to walk through a wood and sit beneath a
tree.
Some
pompous fool had assured others that freezing to death was a pleasant way to
go. You just go sleep and don’t wake up. Trey had spent way too many hours
sitting quietly in the deep snows on the side of the mountains and hills of
Afghanistan to know that the moment of death might be relaxing, but the part
about getting there was sheer torture.
But he
did love the silence. Loved it enough to want to experience it just one last
time. Only this time he was prepared to skip right past the torture stage.
Before
leaving the house, Trey had scribbled a note to his Mom. He wrote: “Mama, I am
so sorry that I mess things up for you and Dad. For everyone. And, I’m so sorry
for always saying how sorry I am. I know
enough to know that I’m broken. To help me get fixed I’m taking a little drive
to someplace not here. I’ll be back in a few days. Please, don’t be mad at Dad.
He tried as long as he could. Thanks for always praying for me, Mama. I know
your prayers go straight to heaven. I’ve given up on mine ever leaving the
room. – I love you, Mother. Always
will. T
The snow
began to fall around Amarillo. Trey pulled into a Valero to gas up. He had seen
enough of Texas to realize that he needed to head west for a while. If not he’d
likely end up in a snowdrift somewhere in the Oklahoma Panhandle. Not exactly where
he wanted to join his friends. He wasn’t long into New Mexico before noticing a
half buried post wearing a green highway sign which read: “Tucumcari 18.” He
liked the sound of that. Remembered once hearing a song about the town.
He soon
realized that he would not likely reach town, so he pulled into the first
inviting place he could find. It was an old Mom and Pop motel. He didn’t want a
room, just some place might serve him a meal before taking his walk.
The light
was on in the motel office, but the door was locked. He banged loud and long
until the door cracked open enough to reveal the face of an unshaved,
gruff-looking, middle-aged guy. “Whatta ya want?” the man said.
Trey asked
him where the nearest café was, and the guy assured him that there wasn’t
anything opened anywhere, including the place he was standing. “Would you
consider throwing together a sandwich for me?” Trey said. “I’ll make it worth
your while.”
The man tried
to shut the door, but Trey used a bit more force to push the door open.
Immediately the man reached into his pants pocket. He studied Trey’s
expressionless face for a second and then walked behind the counter for a room
key. He checked the drawers and poked around under the counter. Trey said, “If
you’re looking for a key, they’re hanging on the pegboard behind you.” The man
reached back, grabbed “Key 11” and tossed it to Trey.
“That’ll
be $100 up front. Cash,” the man told him. Trey told him that he didn’t want a
room, but he would pay $100 for something to eat. The man smiled as Trey pulled
some bills out of his wallet. Finding
some new confidence the man said, “Oh, and you’re gonna need to throw in your car
keys.”
Trey
turned to walk out the door, but the man warned him not to. Trey told him that
he had to get a couple of things out of the Jeep. As he exited the office he
felt fairly sure the man wouldn’t shoot him. And, the man apparently had the
feeling that he shouldn’t shoot, ‘cause he didn’t. He did briskly shake his
head in an attempt to make a creepy feeling go away. After which he said to no
one, “What have I just stepped in?”
Trey
opened the passenger side-door and reached beneath the seat for his pistol, and
placed it into the huge inside pocket of his woolen jacket. He then picked up
the partially eaten bag of Fritos between the two seats and then walked back to
the office.
There he
found the man standing behind the counter just as he had left him, but this
time he was pointing a small caliber pistol at Trey. Trey discerned just a tad
of nervousness from the man’s stance. Nothing in particular, just something he
had picked up on over his short life.
“I need
you to slowly hand over the gun you got from your Jeep,” the man said. Trey reached into his pocket, pulled out his
keys, removed the Jeep key from the ring, and laid it on the counter. “Okay, now
the gun,” the man said. Trey kept looking deep into the man’s eyes. Didn’t even
drop his stare while in one fluid motion, he pulled the 1911 45 Colt from inside
his coat. The man did not react, other than to shake. “What the— No need for
that,” he said.” I was just trying to protect myself. I get held up a lot
here.”
Without
diverting his stare away from the man’s eyes, Trey said, “I want you to hand
over the 22, and then tell me where the guy is who really owns this place.”
The man
placed his pistol on top of the counter and then assured Trey that the old
couple was okay, that he hadn’t harmed them. “I just threatened to shoot you if
they made a sound.”
At that
very moment, an old man peeked from behind a doorway. “I’m okay, sir. My wife
and I are fine.”
Trey told
the robber that he would let him keep the $100 he had given him, but he insisted
he return the money he had stolen from the couple. The man told him that he had
actually not gotten around to that, and the old man standing in the doorway backed
his story.
Trey
swung his hand out as if introducing the man to the door. The man took his cue
and left with no hesitation. He climbed into the Jeep and headed east.
After
hugs and a thousand thanks, Sid and Janet Taylor escorted Trey to the kitchen.
“I heard you tell him you were hungry, she said.
Trey
didn’t know what he enjoyed more, the feast of leftovers or the company of
strangers. He did little talking, but listened to the life and times of Janet
and Sid. They were so pleasant to be around. Trey could actually play the part
of himself. No need for a mask.
He didn’t
recall actually seating himself in the cushy chair in the living area, but
that’s where he was when his dream became too real. He woke in a fright and
found Sid practically lying across him while Janet calmly assured him that he
was all right.
After about
a minute, Trey calmed a bit, and then began to cry. Between sobs Trey apologized to Sid. “I’m so
sorry. Mr. Taylor? Did I hurt you?” Sid assured him he had not. After a couple
more minutes Trey assured his hosts that he was much better. “I need to, uh, go
outside for a little while,” he said. “That’s what I do when I get like this. Y’all
please go back to sleep. I’m fine. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think I would fall
asleep.”
Janet
took Trey’s hand and led him to the couch, and instructed him to lie down. Sid
brought in a quilt and laid it across the boy. “No, please don’t do this,” Trey
said.
“Shhh. Close
your eyes, son,” the old woman told him. Trey didn’t argue. The next sound he
heard was a prayer. Janet prayed for God to remove the pain from his mind and to
send it away forever, and to let the boy sleep. She then began singing “Softly
and tenderly Jesus is calling; calling for you and for me…” Trey only managed
to hear the first part of the song before falling asleep. There would be no
thrashing around, no dreams… just the sleep of the blessed.
Trey
called home the day after Christmas. His mom cried upon hearing his voice. Trey
shared a bit of his story with his mother, but mostly chose to listen as she
told him how much the family had missed him. Everyone asked about him. Daddy even
mentioned him in the Christmas prayer.
Trey told
his mother that he was going to stay with the Taylors for little while. That
there was a VA hospital in Albuquerque and he planned to add his name to the
waiting list for counseling. Before hanging up, he asked his mother to thank
his dad for mentioned him in the prayer.
The
Oklahoma Highway Patrol found Trey’s Jeep in the panhandle of Oklahoma just
south of Liberal, Kansas. Clarence Stang was identified by his prints which
were found all over the interior of the Jeep. Mr. Stang was never located,
though. Trey hoped that the man was all right. He even whispered a short prayer
for him. The saying of the words didn’t feel natural, but for the first in too
long he actually imagined getting better. Mrs. Taylor told him that he was
their Christmas miracle.
The real
miracle for Trey was that he would have many more opportunities to sit in the
wood and listen for the silence that can found in falling snow.
Merry
Christmas to your family, from the Hayters.
