jml297

Ben was perched on the edge of the driver’s seat, his feet barely reaching the pedals. He turned to Paul, a big grin splitting his face.

‘Ready, mate?’

Paul smirked, shaking his head at him.

‘Let’s get a move on.’ Paul clicked his belt on and rattled the window down a notch.

Ben shifted the gear stick, eased the hand brake and the truck shuddered its way on the road. Ben had both hands on the wheel, and as he shifted into second gear, he flicked a look over at Paul. He was staring out the window, pulling rhythmically at his lower lip.

Ben turned back to the road, moving carefully through the gears. By increments, he relaxed his shoulders and found a rough kind of rhythm. He leaned over and flicked the radio on, scanning through the stations until he found one with a frantic beat. He tapped his index fingers in time.

The suburbs melded into each other in a blur of people, shops, and streets. Ben felt more comfortable, shifting through the gears now with ease. A couple of times he turned to Paul, about to share a joke or observation, but Paul had closed his eyes. Ben sighed, turned back to the road.

With a sense of relief, Ben guided the truck out past the city limits, feeling a bit lighter within himself at the sense of space.

‘Thanks, mate.’

‘What?’ Ben glanced over at Paul.

‘For this. Taking me back out there.’ Paul was looking down at his hands, picking at a scab that had formed across the deep gouge.

‘No worries.’ Ben checked the speedometer, let the truck go a bit faster on the downhill slope. He moved a hand across his cheek, covered his mouth briefly, then spoke.

‘You’re a mate. And you’d do the same for me.’

Ben swallowed hard, wondering if what he said was true. He’d known Paul for a few years now, but only as a friend of a mate. Then a couple of nights ago Paul had arrived on his doorstep. In a mess. Cuts to his face and hands, wouldn’t meet Ben’s eyes or answer any questions. Ben got him inside, got him cleaned up.

The next day, he’s opened up a bit. Trouble at home. A disagreement with his girlfriend. Things had got a bit out of hand, and she’d pulled a knife on him. His hands were a mess where he’d blocked her. He ended up getting out, hitching a ride into the city.

Ben had offered to talk to his missus, to mediate. He’d called Sarah. Sarah said Paul’s stuff was out the front of the house. They had a day to collect it, or she’d torch it. So Ben rented a truck.

This was written a writing prompt from A Writer’s Book of Days by Judy Reeves (Day: September 24).

Photo: writing prompt