You know, she’ll have to run about three times before she wins.
“You know, she’ll have to run about three times before she wins.” Randy was riding alongside Curly in his pickup truck. The two of them were collecting all the “Angie for Mayor” signs along the highway. Curly pulled up to the side of the road, Randy jumped out, grabbed the sign out of the three feet of snow and threw it into the truck before jumping back in. His feet were wet and soggy and the smell of stale snow clung to his coat.
“I know that. Just don’t know if she knows it.” Their chore had been a silent one. Randy was disappointed that Angie hadn’t won, but it didn’t surprise him. He couldn’t contain the joy of the Obama win last night. He tried to draw Curly into a conversation. “Sierra and I watched CNN all night while the returns came in. Did you hear Obama’s speech last night?” Randy cringed. He kept forgetting to stop asking yes and no questions. “Nope.” Curly pulled to the side of the road and Randy jumped out of the pickup again.
The sound of the campaign sign hitting the bed of the truck rang with a reassuring thunk. The heat inside the vehicle was blasting so, Randy didn’t feel cold except his toes. They had been collecting signs for the last hour and a half and Curly had said less than a paragraph full of words. The silence felt like an uncomfortable ride in an elevator with a surly business man and a drunk Japanese tourist. He didn’t quite know which of the two he represented, but either option was embarrassing. He couldn’t take it anymore.
“Why do you hate me?” Before he even realized it, the words came out of his mouth. He had never been one for intimate talks, but the idea that Curly didn’t like him had haunted him for months. Ever since that day when he came into Mt. Zen Cafe to talk to Kevin about Zaunter, Curly had never looked at him the same. The wet and slushy road slid underneath the truck. Chunks of snow hit the underside of the vehicle while Randy waited for Curly to answer. The speed slowed and another sign waited to be gathered.
Randy opened the door and dodged a huge puddle of water, ice and mud. Knee-deep in snow he pulled out the sign and tossed it into the back. When he climbed back in, he expected an answer, but the cab stayed quiet for a minute or so. Finally, Curly spoke, “I’m tryin’ to think why you think I hate cha.” Randy tried to justify himself. “You never talk to me.” Curly shook his head. “Don’t talk to nobody.” Randy continued his list, “You always look at me funny when I’m with Kevin.” Curly shrugged. “Just listenin’ for gossip. I’m like an old lady back in the kitchen. Hearin’ peoples’ stories keeps me alive.” The truck was quiet and they pulled up to the next sign.
The warm air from the heater blasted Randy’s face when he jumped back into the truck. “You talk to Kevin.” He slammed the door shut and Curly eased back onto the road. “Kevin’s different.” Randy burst with frustration. “How is Kevin different?! We both came here at the same time. We both are friends with Tank. We even both came here for the same reason!” Curly shook his head. “Nope. Kevin came here to be Roscoe’s winter ranger. You came here…” Curly hesitated and Randy could see a conflict on his face as if he was trying to decide to continue his sentence. Before Randy could interrupt, Curly continued, “I can’t remember what Elvis called you… It was somethin’ like a passageway…”
The truck slowed and Curly said, “You been doin’ all the grunt work. You wanna drive while I pick up the signs?” Randy shook his head and jumped out of the truck. When he returned, Curly was waiting. “Conduit. Elvis said you’re a conduit. You’re the reason other people come to Merriton to stay, but you’re leavin’. Probably in ’bout eight months or so.” Randy could hardly control his anger. “Is this that ‘no one stays in the Bowen house for more than two years’ thing?” Curly merged onto the road and headed to the next campaign sign. Randy continued. “So you’re not going to be my friend just because you think I’m going to be gone in a few months?!”
Curly shook his head. “Sorry, but that house is cursed. You’ll be leavin’ come next summer. Don’t know what is gonna scare you away, but you’re gonna be gone.” The slush splashed against the truck while they rode in silence again. Randy collected three more signs before Curly spoke again. “So when you decided to help Angie with runnin’ for Mayor, did you do that to make me like you?” Randy was surprised at the question. He immediately replied without thinking, “No! I didn’t like how rude A.S. was to Angie, but I especially didn’t like how rude she was to me. I pretty much did it to piss her off.”
Curly chuckled and Randy saw that rare twinkle that shows up in the big guy’s eyes when he talked to his wife. They collected four more signs before Randy spoke again. “So you’re sure I’m leaving Merriton in the summer?” Curly raised his eyebrows. “Seen too many leave that house not to be sure.” Randy held up his hands to the car heater. The warm air felt as if it were taking every bit of moisture out of his skin. “So why not just be my friend for the next eight months?”
The truck slowed and stopped at the last sign before Emigration. Randy jumped out of the cab and landed in a slushy puddle of cold water.