Hitchhikers by Kate Spofford Read Free Book Online

climbing out of the passenger side, Lila
jumping to the ground beside me. She dances out of my reach, still
nervous after the collar incident. It isn’t until now that I stop
to think that I’m gonna have to walk my way out of here, unless
Bobby’s heading back for an imaginary dinnertime rush.
    You’re so stupid.
    “Home sweet home,” Bobby says, parting the
screen curtain and holding it aside for me and Lila to walk
through. “Bobby Junior’s clothes are in a box in the spare bedroom,
if you want to come in and sit a spell.”
    I bob my head.
    “The dog can stay out here. Not much space
for a dog in here.”
    “Stay,” I tell Lila unnecessarily. She’s
already found a spot to lie down.
    What if he’s got chainsaws and hunting knives
hung up on his walls, an operating table in his kitchen?
    I step up into the old-people-smelling living
room of the trailer.
    What makes you think you can trust him?
    “Shut up,” I growl at myself. Bobby’s already
down the hall so I don’t think he can hear me. I thought he was
joking about the spare bedroom but it’s a pretty big trailer,
almost like a little house. Cluttered. There are dirty clothes on
the couch, the tables full of dirty dishes and wrappers. Messy. My
nose wrinkles at the undercurrent of moldy crusted food and musty
newspapers. I think I can even smell how long it’s been since he
vacuumed this worn carpet here.
    I can hear Bobby in back, moving things
around, so I take a seat on the couch next to the window so I can
look out and keep an eye on Lila. She seems perfectly content to
lie out there. I imagine if she’d actually gotten a whiff of Paul
she would have freaked out. I should have listened to my own
instincts and run.
    “Here we are,” Bobby says from behind the
large box he’s carrying. I jump up to help him. “Not sure what
all’s in here anymore, but I’m sure there’s some that’ll fit
ya.”
    “Mostly I need a winter coat,” I tell
him.
    He raises his eyebrows at me and I can
practically hear him thinking, Winter? It’s only September! He doesn’t say it out loud, though, and I breathe easy.
    The inside of the box smells even mustier
than the rest of the trailer. Bobby starts pulling clothes out and
flinging them everywhere. “Too big, too big,” he mutters.
    I begin to wonder if his son simply outgrew
these clothes, until I see the shrine.
    Not a shrine with candles and shit, but there
are a clump of framed photos there on the table next to the
television. No dust or used tissues or candy wrappers on that
table. I look away before Bobby notices me noticing it.
    He dumps a few pairs of pants into my arms,
t-shirts and sweatshirts and not one but two winter coats and tells
me to try them on. “The bathroom’s right past the kitchen.”
    It’s also the size of a closet. I struggle to
maneuver in the tight space. Both pairs of jeans fit better than
the ones I stole from Paul, and the cargo pants. All the shirts
too. The winter coats will be nice and warm, filled with down. I
return to the living room.
    “Everything fits,” I tell Bobby, then
shamefully drop my eyes. “But I don’t have a bag or anything.” I
hate to be begging this way. I’d prefer not to have a bag, but with
winter coming I should be thinking about gathering supplies. I
don’t need another winter like last winter.
    “Ah, we can scrounge somethin’ up for ya.” He
says this as he is sitting on the couch tuned into the television.
Yet he doesn’t look like he’s going to get up and scrounge around
for anything.
    Unsure of what to do, I make myself look busy
folding the clothes and stacking them neatly on one end of the
couch. The television is playing a soap opera, not something I
would have expected Bobby to be watching.
    Then I hear the snoring, and I know Bobby
isn’t watching soap operas. He’s taking a nap.
    Should I take the clothes and beat it? No,
Bobby will wake up and his son’s clothes will be gone off with some
stranger and he’ll become