Ariadne's Thread

"Like a Rolling Stone" the radio sings a Bob Dylan classic. It's funny, we have heard this song three times on the way up. It's a long drive; eight hours-that's a long time when there is no good radio stations. I wonder why this song is so popular? On long trips, it's hard to find good radio stations-just when you find one you like, it starts to fade away.

"You awake?"

"Yeah man, where the hell are we?"

"We're in Wisconsin. I don't know where."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"''Bout a half hour."

"Shit, it feels like it has been longer."

We need gas, so we decide to pull off the highway, see what people we can see in this town-hick town. Damn cheese-heads, probably don't have much need for entertainment.

There aren't any good radio stations in Rockford either, but at least, we're, home, I guess.

The mall here doesn't look any different than our back home. There are all the same shops; all the same types of faces-same smell. I go into a record store to get something to listen to. We both forgot to bring any tapes. That's why we are stuck listening to the radio. Already heard Bob Dylan three times. I like the song-somber, soothing- when the hum of the road starts to put you to sleep it's nice to hear that song, "And he took from you your last meal.." Find something new each time you hear it. You can look out the window and look at the scenery fly by. It all looks like an impressionist painting-nothing concrete, no definitive lines embracing the images. Your mind can't concentrate-start to fall asleep-listening to the radio as is fades in and out. When you travel, a good radio station never stays long.

My friend has a girl friend back home. I don't know for how long though. I think it's weird in the beginning of every relationship, everything is so wonderful-you run and play in the autumn leaves and reveal yourself to the person of your dreams. Then, one morning you look at them and see someone else, someone you don't even know, a stranger. Things fall apart from there. I don't have the heart to tell him it's already over. He wouldn't believe me if I did.

There aren't shit for tapes. I really don't want to but anything I already have on CD just because I want something to listen to in the car. I buy I new band, the Connells. I have heard one of there songs on MTV. It's a great song. My friend winces, "The Connells? What the fuck?"

"There a good band. Trust me."

"Why don't you buy The Cure or something else."

"The Cure?" "I don't like them much, besides, I have the only CD of theirs I like at home. I don't want to buy a tape of something I already have."

"Common man. Buy the album with 'Killing an Arab,' that's a good album."

"You buy it, I am buying this one."

"I have to save my ,money, I am going to get Amy something when I get home."

I stare at him for a moment. Our eyes meet. I know he knows, but he doesn't want to say anything. I want to tell him I know, but that would make things worse. He looks down at the ground for a minute, my eyes follow. He looks at his feet, doesn't look up. His eyes begin to swell and he says that he will meet me at the car without looking up. I don't know what to say-I nod my head. I buy the tape. I should have bought The Cure.

I can't drive stick, so Jason has to make te whole trip by himself. Ten hours from Rockford to Fairibault Minnesota-it's right outside St. Paul. It's a long haul. I really don't want to drive anyway. I'm tired. I have a lot to think about. College is coming up. I am pretty scared; don't know what the hell is going to happen there. I see a car pulled over to the side of the road. We are going about 95, so it passes by pretty fast. For some reason, when we pass, I see the people standing on the road side in slow motion, while everything else is flying by. I see a man, middle forties, balding-has a beard. He is pointing a finger at a younger woman maybe his daughter ; she is much younger than he is. She is really pretty, not gorgeous, just pretty. She is just sitting there smiling, looking off in the distant as this man points his finger at her. Before I can make anything else out, it all starts flying by just like the background. I wonder why your senses do that, slow something down and speed other things up. Some things you can't wait to happen, other you can't wait to end. Life is funny like that, I suppose. I drift back to sleep,

When I wake, we are in the Twin Cities, or at least the highways leading to them. There is a lot of traffic here. It's not like the way up, no one takes that way. Jason knows all the back roads so he can make it there faster. He comes down so much to see Amy that he needs to know the fastest way. Sometimes I wonder why he comes down so much. I thought they would break up when he moved. They stayed together. I guess I would know why if I had been in love. If I had..maybe staying together is what love is all about. Coming to see each other, when you can, or when you can convince your parents to let you. It's hard when you are in high school, girl's fathers always think that guys want girls for one thing. Maybe because that's all they ever wanted when they were young. It seems like they are protecting them or something. I hate meeting people's parents anyway. It's like, 'Hi, I am here to take your daughter out, and I PROMISE not to touch her until she lets me..' The parents just glare at you, beneath their warm smiles. Parents try to be nice, but how can they, you are taking away something that they have spent a long time growing. I guess parents are sort of like farmers, you know, kind of growing plants, and then you come along and take it. Sometimes, if things don't worked out, and you throw the plant back to them, they have to put it back together; give it life again. We all know what that's like; maybe that's why they are so protective.

Jason comes to see Amy more than she comes to see him. I don't think her family likes him that much. I don't think he knows that though. I don't want to tell him, and neither does she. but I can see it in her eyes. It's like disgust for both her parents and him: 'why can't you accept who I love?-why can't you be more like what they want.' It's hard to know which road to take when so many people care about you.

I look out the window and see this car of girls. Three of them. I don't know how old they are, maybe twenty. They see me and speed up. Jason has this ideology that if you follow someone who is speeding that you won't get caught if some cop is 'hitting' people on the side of the road. He thinks that you can sort of 'ride along with them' and no cop is going stop two cars, and if he stops one, he will stop the first one anyway.

I can feel Jason press his foot on the gas. We are in my car-it has a tape player, that works, so it doesn't have much pick up. Jason turn on the heat, so the engine doesn't overheat. He has all these ways of cheating on things, whether it's speeding, or making sure the engine doesn't overheat; he always has something.

I can see those girls ahead of us. I think they want us to catch up. Not for me though. Jason can't catch up, my car doesn't have that much pick up. We stay with them, for a while, until we have to turn off. I watch their car for as long as I can. Pretty soon you can't tell which one is their's, but I still look.

We have to take some back roads to his house. As I remember, he lives out in the middle of no where. It's in one of those areas that if get too much snow, you better forget about doing anything. His family doesn't do much, though, watch T.V., play games, just like the rest of us, I suppose. His house was great when I was a kid. His parents never were home 'cause they were out playing darts, and his sister was usually too drunk or stoned to know what was going on. We could do whatever we wanted. Play pool, Atari, or watch cool movies that came on late at night. We had to be quite, 'cause once his mom caught us looking through his dad's magazines, and I got sent home. We made sure no one caught us the next time.

I think that's why I like Jason, we have been friends since the first grade, he could do whatever he wanted and no one ever really scolded him. That was cool when I was a kid, and as I got older, though we drifted apart, I still liked going over to his house and not worrying about parents.

I remember the last time I was at Jason's house-I had this really bog zit on my face and all I wanted to do was hide. He was at this soccer camp all day and was too tried to do anything at night, so I would just sit around agonizing about that zit. It went away, though, just like all the others.

We pull into his house and it's late. His brother is home, and they exchange their brotherly affection.

"Hey man, what's up, did you bring me anything?"

"Hey, I got you something, but don't let mom see it, she might freak. What's up with that girl you told me about?"

"Shit, I dumped her, and I am going out with her friend."

"Max? Here is the playboy Pete, remember that night he fucked the pillow faster than a jackrabbit? I always knew he would drive them crazy."