outside. James was still in. Perhaps there wassomething to be said <strong>for</strong> shame, at least insome instances.He blamed his mother. Perhaps too much.She had tried tirelessly, but the genes were stillhers. He blamed his father <strong>for</strong> not being ableto underst<strong>and</strong> him or his mother, leaving themalone to their own devices of recovery, whichmore often than not included a bottle of JackDaniels, a h<strong>and</strong>ful of Sominex, <strong>and</strong> a box ofKleenex. He blamed them. And he foundblame in the entirety of society <strong>for</strong> their st<strong>and</strong>ing.He also felt guilty <strong>and</strong> more than a littleashamed, <strong>for</strong> he knew that the driving <strong>for</strong>ce ofhis life had been a search <strong>for</strong> someone orsomething on which to place the blame. But hehad not found it. And he knew he neverwould. “Why,” he wondered, “must someonebe lower <strong>for</strong> me to be higher?” He couldn’tanswer that question. But he accepted the theorybehind the question as truth, <strong>and</strong> whetherright or not, he refused to refute it.He had been driving <strong>for</strong> almost an entireday when the phone rang. It startled him. Hedid not want it to be his mother, <strong>and</strong> he feltcertain it was. He dug around in the junk in hispassenger’s seat, trying to grasp the cheaplymade Nokia cell phone he had received as agift from his parents. “Caller I.D. Unavailable”it read as it flashed a bright green <strong>and</strong> sangGeorges Bizet’s Toreador from Carmen in annoyinglyelectronic tones. Hesitantly he acceptedthe call, expecting to find, without a doubt hismother’s shrill <strong>and</strong> angry voice on the otherend.“Hello”There was a pause.“Hello”“Ryan...” a broken female voice quietlysaid.“Yes.”“I’m so glad you answered. I really didn’texpect this number to work. It’s been almost ayear since you gave it to me.”His eyes widened somewhat as the unfamiliarvoice slowly became a familiar one.“Eileen…,” he said.She answered with a simple “yeah.”Eileen had been at one time the mostpromising prospect of real friendship he hadbeen able to find. The two had met dancing inthe chorus line of a musical, both of themmaking a singularly desperate attempt to connectwith the rest of the human race throughthe particularly commercial entertainmentknown as the musical theater. They had fooledthemselves together into thinking that whatthey were doing was artistic <strong>and</strong> important <strong>and</strong>a means by which to gain the love of others.The venture had proven to be a devastating failureon many terms <strong>for</strong> the both of them.“I was going through one of our old programsthe other day. Your number fell out ofthe pages. I just had to see if it still worked.”“I’m glad it does,” he said.“It was written on that little piece of napkin,remember? We were talking out on theback patio at the closing night party. We saidwe’d keep in touch because us crazy Virgos hadto stick together.”He laughed a little, remembering howthey had discovered upon their first meetingthat they had the same birth date, <strong>and</strong> howexcited Eileen had been, being intensely interestedin astrology, at the prospect of discoveringthat another Virgo besides herself trulyexisted.“How have you been?” he asked, trying togo through the motions of a typical phone call.“I’m better now. I’m so glad this numberworked. I’ve wanted to talk to you <strong>for</strong> <strong>for</strong>ever.”She could no longer hide the crack in hervoice. His voice followed suit. Words suddenlyspilled <strong>for</strong>th from his mouth like a ragingwhite river.“I’m in Georgia. I got in my car <strong>and</strong> Idrove. I don’t have any money or anything. Idon’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t staystill. I couldn’t stay still. I don’t know whereI’m going. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m soscared. I don’t want to be me anymore.”Tears <strong>and</strong> words poured like sweet rainfrom heaven as Eileen told him of how, only afew hours be<strong>for</strong>e, she had cleared out her bankaccount <strong>and</strong> filled up her cheap car with gas,having every intention of skipping town in thesame way he had. He confided in her his memoriesof Mountain View, of Quaaludes, ofsleepless nights <strong>and</strong> detachment from his family,only to discover that her memories were onein the same.“Why did you call me, Eileen?”“I needed a reason to stay. I wanted toknow that there really was nothing here <strong>for</strong> mebe<strong>for</strong>e I left.”Tears flooded his eyes. His throat closed off<strong>and</strong> he could not breathe.S V0 4
“I want to be enough to make you stay,” hesaid.“I’m so scared right now,” she told him.“I’ve never felt like I needed people. I’m soscared that I could come to depend on you.”The words sounded so much like his veryown, running simultaneously through hismind that his tears turned cold <strong>and</strong> he felttinges of ice travel up his neck. He finallybroke.“I want to go home,” he sobbed.Her sobs bled together with his. “I’m glad,”she said.“I don’t know where home is,” he sobbedeven more heavily.“It’s not running,” she said.“It’s not hiding. It’s not reaching. It’s resting.You’re almost there.”He sighed through his sobs. Her words hadsimultaneously destroyed him <strong>and</strong> rebuilt himwithin the blink of an eye.A half hour later he pulled into a BurgerKing. After ordering a chicken s<strong>and</strong>wich <strong>and</strong> acup of Sprite, he returned to his parked car toeat his meal. After he was finished he beganfeeling around in his glove compartment,searching <strong>for</strong> a Turkish Jade. His h<strong>and</strong>s shook alittle as he fumbled with the cigarette <strong>and</strong> thelighter, but it was not uncommon <strong>for</strong> his h<strong>and</strong>sto shake, <strong>for</strong> he was a nervous child. He wonderedif his mother’s h<strong>and</strong>s shook as well <strong>and</strong>felt ashamed that he had not in his eighteenyears paused to notice. He glanced at the blueduffel bag <strong>and</strong> the green pillow once againthrough the rear view mirror as he blew thefirst puff of smoke from his cigarette. Heturned on the radio as he put the car in drive.He came to the exit driveway <strong>and</strong> turned left.Westward. Home to <strong>Mississippi</strong>.As he traveled back, he decided that if hewere to ever feel the need to “just drive away”again, he would drive west as opposed to east.Eileen lived in Arkansas.The City ThatNever SleepsPhotographSecond Place,PhotographyCompetitionKimberly GoldenS V0 5
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