The Boy Who Wore Boat Shoes

22⎜The Road

22⎜The Road

           “So…” I offered up the single word, hoping that it would shatter the extreme awkwardness that had encompassed the ride thus far.

           Because the only other person in the car happened to possess the name “Ari Remon” and didn’t operate like those who inhabited the rest of the planet, she didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the road as she maneuvered our ginormous form of transportation. As people went, Ari wasn’t exactly the tallest individual in the world (neither was I for that matter, but I was at least taller than Ari). Houston Walker, on the other hand, was immense. Ari happened to be the one behind the wheel of one Houston Walker’s giant truck, so it was interesting to watch her drive the automobile belonging to someone twice the size of her.

           “You’re not one for small talk, are you?” I tried to joke. Again, she was silent. It wasn’t so much of a sullen silent as it was a determined and focused silent. She had a composed expression gracing her face, and appeared calm, though slightly entranced.

           Minutes passed by until another word was uttered, and thankfully it was by the driver and not me again. “Scott is an idiot,” was all she said. And that was it. Scott was an idiot. She had proclaimed it herself, so it must have been so. When Ari Remon made a statement, only a moron would challenge her.

           “And why is that?” I dared myself to ask the question.

           “You sound like a therapist,” she muttered, instead of answering what I had inquired. “I hate therapists. My mom was a therapist. Well, she preferred the term ‘psychologist,’ but the two words are really interchangeable.” She paused, though I didn’t speak, mutely urging her to go on. Ari didn’t reminisce much, so when she did it was a rare occasion that begged attention. Luckily for me, she continued. “Dr. Mel. She hated being called ‘Dr. Remon.’ Too formal for her taste. So was ‘Mom,’ for that matter, but I called her it, regardless. Mel. Mel and Eli…”

           And that was it. Ari’s monologue was over, and though she had been more talking for the sake of verbalizing her thoughts rather than to have an active conversation with me, I was still glad that I got the honor of listening. Everything sounded better when Ari said it. Rainy with a chance of Ari Remon. It was such an obscure adjective to describe Ari’s unique voice, but honestly, nothing else did justice to the beauty that was her voice. Rain. That was the only thing that came to mind when she spoke.

           Now, if I had been in rehab, I would’ve put my own morsel of personal life on the table after what Ari said, but I wasn’t in rehab, so I didn’t. Besides, what would I have said? “Well, my mom’s a housewife. She doesn’t really work and has a degree in interior design—but she’s not actually an interior designer, even though the floor plan of our house is pretty great.” Yeah, no thanks. I loved my mom. I really did. I called her whenever I had an issue, and she was probably the only person in the world that I felt completely comfortable talking to when in a state of extreme anxiety. But bringing up my own mother just because Ari had didn’t exactly seem appropriate or required at a time like this. So, I didn’t say anything, hoping that Ari would speak again. And she did.

           “Scott is an idiot because he’d rather have sex with a random girl than go with us to Eli’s condo,” Ari expressed fervently, eyes still on the road as she managed to get the words out, answering what I had asked minutes prior. “I can’t believe that he decided to ‘sleep in,’ instead of coming with us. Actually, I can believe it. It’s Scott. What should I expect? It’s not like I haven’t known him my whole life or anything. This is just who he is. Even when he was younger he would pull stints like this.”