She Goes Away

Walkabout

I began the journey to Jack's house, reasoning it would be as simple as leaving mine, walking for twenty minutes and ending up on his doorstep. But Jack lived far west of my place. I'd travelled there frequently by car, and it took at least twenty-minutes.

I went to my room and changed into a white shirt. Eyeing my wristwatch, it read four thirty. I would be home in time for supper. This is what I told myself.

I kicked at pebbles in the driveway and turned right. With my hands in my pockets, I headed down the side of the gravel road; minding the little oncoming and outgoing traffic. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight. The sun beat down on my head. Still, I sung to myself, "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone. Only darkness everyday." Sadness clawed at my heart like infected nails. Mom's voice tried to edge through, "He's not worth it." It wasn't the first time I'd been told that, and I knew she was right...but the infection took its hold. A disturbing pang within my stomach that made me crave Jack. He's my pill. He's my medicine. I pulled my hands out from my pockets and sped up.

I ignored the country homes, the many wheat and canola fields, power lines. My mind turned into an old television set stuck on white noise. Focus, just focus on the task. The buzz worked until eventually, the craving for water hit. Now I had to distract myself and think. But I worried that letting my thoughts roam free would lead to logic, coaxing me to go back home. My fragile state needed placation. I didn't want to hear the truth, having gotten used to lies from Jack. It isn't too much farther. You're physically fit. You can do this, water or not.

I pressed on.

Supper time no doubt came and went. My stomach protested the unwarranted fast. I didn't dare look at my watch. Mom was likely panicking while Dad tried to calm her by saying that I took along my cell phone, called Jack, and was at his place.

"They always make up," he'd say. "Jack threatens to end it for good, but they get back together. Mark my word, that's where she is."

That wouldn't be enough. Mom would reply, "Maybe we should call Jack's house, just to be sure."

"Charlene has her cell. If she needs us to come and get her, she'll call." (What he didn't know is that I brought nothing with me besides my wits, and even that was questionable)

Regardless what they said, I had to finish the task. Had to challenge myself like the Australian tribes who go on walkabouts to re-discover their traditions. But what was I out discovering?