5 of 12 Track 5 - Further on down the road.

[KB.]

This leads into "On the Evening Train"

Further On Up the Road

Jonas heard the knock on his door and he looked at the clock; it seemed to smile at him like some over ripe Jack-O-Lantern; 3:22 am it grinned. He knew there was only one person that would be knocking on his front door this early; or late. Patrick was here; and that meant there was something wrong. His old friend was ever conscious of Jonas and his inability to sleep. He also knew if the lights were out that he was trying to sleep. Jonas rolled out of the wrong side of the bed, and headed towards the door with a bad attitude in tow.

When Jonas opened the door and saw the look on Patrick’s face the attitude disappeared like a towel in a cheap hotel. His friend looked like he had been weeping, not crying, but weeping. He looked like a man who had been lost in the desert for forty years, and just about the time he stumbled upon an oasis he noticed that his traveling companion had succumbed to the thirst. He looked like he was burning with fever. He also looked like he wanted to smile, but he was afraid if he did something bad would happen.

“I need to talk Jonas; I know it is very late and I apologize; but I have to show you something. “You need to go home to your lovely wife old friend. I am sure she is much warmer company than I am. Jonas watched as Patrick shook his head and let himself in. Jonas winced as those grave digging boots Patrick wore tracked mud in like he was planning on building a terrace in the living room. Jonas looked at the skull ring his friend wore; it was tarnished silver and as gaudy as they came. The eyes of that skull were the same red as the numbers on his grinning clock. The light from the small lamp he had turned on glittered off of those eyes like sunshine through a bottle of red wine. He started to shut the door against the rain, but Patrick asked him to keep it open for fresh air.

Jonas pulled the door open as far as the wall would allow. Patrick shoved a letter into his hands and begged him for a smoke. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a pack of Marlboros and told Patrick that if Kate found out she would kill them both. Patrick shrugged and took a drag off of the cigarette like he was kissing a long forgotten love.

Jonas read the letter with disbelief; how could a man none of them had really known be so unselfish to strangers. He looked at Patrick and saw the reason behind the look he had held earlier. Jonas could do nothing but shrug at his friend. “What are you going to do Patrick? “I don’t know Jonas, I really don’t know. It all sounds so complicated, and I think I must be dreaming. He and Kate were sort of friends; she is going to be devastated by it all. Jonas sighed at his friend, and went to make a pot of coffee.

“You need to take this chance and head on down the road; leave this place behind you both. Take that son of yours and travel on. “What about you Jonas; you are my only friend here besides family. I don’t want to leave you here alone. “Don’t worry about me Patrick; we will meet again one sunny day. “Take those good times we had as they were, and if you find some light up ahead just send for me brother, and I’ll go

“Do like he asked and get his body on the train that will leave Sunday evening; go to the depot and tell Kate to hide her tears in the rain. Send him home, that is all he really asked of you; the rest will take care of itself. “Thanks Jonas, I’ll do what I can. I still can’t believe he did what he did; it seems like something from an old song.

With those last words Patrick took the letter from Jonas and closed the door behind him. Jonas heard his old Harley roar to life, and listened as the thunder it made grew farther away. He wondered what would happen; and he once again he found himself on bended knee praying for courage until they met again.

Patrick let the engine die a block from home so that he would not wake his sleeping wife and child. He pushed the old motorcycle up to the spot in front of their apartment, and noticed a light on inside the bedroom. Kate was waiting up; he looked down at his watch and saw the hands tell him in their own two fingered version of sign language that he was out far later than he should have been. He wondered if what had happened tonight had been done in time to keep her his.

Kate heard the door to the apartment open and close; she didn’t even bother turning the light off. She saw her man’s eyes as he walked into the room with rain dripping off of him like he was some rusted tin roof.

KB

[KB.]

almostfamous;651063 wrote: This one actually confused me a little. I'm gonna reread it tomorrow though. You posted some great stuff tonight


What confused you?

[RedGlitter]

Another good one. Still has its own rhythm going. I like that. There's a type of...cadence.... I hear in your stories.