Up And Down, Eight And Out

I had been dating him for a month now. Everything seemed to be— okay. He had talked about bringing me to upstate New York for this Pool tournament that he was on the bill for. Eric was a god gifted pool player— I have never seen anybody play the table quite like him in all of Stinesville, Indiana.  

“I had always wanted to see Coney Island,” I told him—- “Greenwich Village, the Statue of Liberty.”

We sat beneath the blanket of stars that comforted the Indiana night, while sitting on the hood of my car—- planning out this new adventure with a bottle of wine. I took a big inhaling pull off the bottle. I was in love, so I thought. 

Stinesville, Indiana wasn’t gonna be big enough for us. The picture of the future had already been painted within my own imagination. The city of New York seemed to be the perfect backdrop to it all. 

I leaned back in my mind, taking another pull from the bottle. He leaned over towards me, gently and tenderly casting his brown eyes into mine. It all seemed promising, at first. 

We vowed to leave at the end of the month. It’d give us enough time to request our ‘Leave Of Absence’ from our dead-end jobs, before we set sail on this two week journey into the heart of the immigration— the heart of Capitalism— the heart of America—- New York, New York. 

We would rely on his father’s van to carry us there, a 2000 Ford E-20. The rust around the fenders and the wheel wells spoke that we wouldn’t make it to Pittsburgh without the engine going up in smoke—— or without the wheels falling off. Eric assured me that everything would be okay— and so, I trusted him. 

The back of the van was barenaked and ragged, we tried to churn it into the most comfortable living headquarters we could. We laid down a queen mattress, even building some little shelving for knick knacks and such. There was a microwave, a mini fridge, and most weirdly, a little vault with a combination lock. 

He explained there was money in there, It was supposed to be our “On The Road Savings.” 

When I asked if he would show me, he wouldn’t do so—- without any good reasoning as to why. 

We hit the main interstate junction of I-70 west, which would carry us like a leaf upon a river right into the outskirts of the city. It was a twelve hour drive, and we were destined to be blinded by the city lights that evening. 

The flat land of Indiana vanished from the review mirrors as we proceeded into the newness of the Pennsylvania trees. The countryside always seems to help the mind decide what it is that’s important within these hollow lives we live. I mered out over the green and hilly landscape of the east, knowing that this road was bound to lead me into the tall buildings, the metropolitan life I had been craving since I was a little girl. I dreamed about New York religiously. It seemed to be the holy grail which would hold all the answers for me. 

I was destined to be a writer. I knew that I was going to have to move to New York to be included within the vast open sea of like minded fish as myself. At least— that’s the way I thought at first. 

“If I can make it there, then I can make it anywhere.”  

Eric had a line of tournaments engraved within the city— with the confidence that he would take all. 

“We’re gonna spend a night or two in Queens,” he had informed me. “I got big money waiting for me. Fat Silly Slims and Big Johnny Two Guns is a farm pond with dynamite waiting to be thrown into.”

Eric was following his dreams, as was I. 

We arrived in Jersey right when the sun was tucking away behind the green valley hills. There was a prominent glow in the milky orange horizon from up ahead—- the city was waiting for us. 

The George Washington bridge broke us through the barrier of New Jersey and right into the fantasy of Manhattan, glowing across the murky waters of the Hudson River. To my left, out the window, showed the ground of the Little Dominican Republic, with the Bronx sitting seldomly below us, as we crossed the last bridge into the island of Queens. 

“We got an hour before we need to be at Fat Silly Slims—- we’ll have to make it quick darling.”

We arrived at the billiards hall about forty five minutes later. Eric hurried for his cues and rushed in there, while I looked at my reflection in the van window, fixating my hair.  

The interior of the dark and dingy pool hall smelled of stale cigarette smoke, loud cackling echoed from every barstool while the jukebox music danced in a nightmarish neon haze. Multiple teams of people all stood around with beers in their hands, dressed in uniform—- teams that had come from all around the country for this one tournament. 

Eric went down the list throughout the three hour duration— table to table. I studied him as he went on to smoke every opponent. He was very interesting to watch. He was good at acting as an Al Bundy— one who has a tendency to miss shots or easy shots. He could put the cue ball wherever he wanted, purposely allowing the other opponent to make his shots until he dwindled down to the last remaining balls. And then from there, Eric would send it home, nailing every ball, one after the other into their pockets, being able to jelly roll every shot—- rolling the cue ball in perfect alignment for the next shots. He had his own method of madness towards the game. I sat at the bar drinking mojitos, taking in the mad atmosphere around— getting to know a lot of the slang that gets thrown around a billiards hall. I felt uncomfortable after a while, after not seeing Eric for a couple of hours, sitting there alone with the daunting thought that I was being watched. . 

To my left, stood a big tall drink of water, about six foot four, tattoos running down his neck and onto his arms. He kept glaring over at me, before sheepishly looking away every time I’d look in his direction. He had an ear piece which he looked to be talking into. 

Eric found me sitting at the bar, all red faced and jovial. 

“I’m about to chop the pot babe!” He yells to me excitedly over the loud ambience of music and glasses of beer crashing on the floor. 

“What’s that mean again?” I asked. 

“I’ve made it to the final four! The two winners will then “Chop the pot”—- splitting the main earnings of two grand!—- regardless of the outcome.”

I kept looking over at the tall looking fellow while trying to listen to Eric, his eyes were still luring in my direction.

I whispered to Eric, 

“Do you see that guy over there? He’s been looking at me the entire time I’ve been sitting here. Almost as if he’s watching me.”

Eric turned around gently and carefully, identifying the man. 

“Oh him? He’s just a rail bird. He’s just one who watches and gambles off the game without even playing.”

“But— he keeps talking into his ear piece every time he looks at me.”

“Nah—- don’t worry about him babe. Probably just a creep. I mean—- look at you, you’re beautiful.”

Eric kissed me on the cheek quickly and then rushed back to the main table. I stayed sitting at the bar— with a paranoid delusion that something was about to go wrong. 

I ordered another drink, keeping my head down, every so often carefully glancing at the strange gentleman. He stayed staring at me for seconds at a time. To my right, I noticed another so-called “Railbird,” another set of eyes looking at me, another earpiece he’s talking into. 

“Are these guys talking to each other?” I then wondered. 

I was numbed with paranoia, I was afraid my legs wouldn’t work if I had to run, It felt as if I was gonna have to. I wanted to go home—- something was not right. 

About half an hour later, Eric runs back over to me, with a stack of cash in his hand. He tucks it into his back pocket before grabbing my arm. 

“We have to get out of here— right now.” He says with a frantic notion. 

“Why?—- what happened?”

“I’ll explain later. We need to go now!”

Frantically and fast we cut through the drunken crowd of people and out the back door we went towards the van. Eric grasped my hand tightly, almost feeling as if he was dragging me within the pace of which he walked. 

“Honey—- what’s going on? Talk to me.”

“Let’s get in the van first and get out of here—“ he explains. “I’ll tell you everything once we get out of Queens. 

I grew nervous. I wasn’t sure what to think. Was somebody after him?

We hopped in the van into which he proceeded to veer us out into oncoming traffic. He began driving like a madman, making rounded corners with both of the passenger tires jumping off the pavement. 

“Eric—-Slow down! What is going on? Tell me right now!”

He stayed staring straight ahead, eyes growing wide with fear. 

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he murmurs. 

“You shouldn’t have brought me here? Driving all this way to New York and you just now realize that?”

I had to pee— and so I asked him to pull over somewhere. He wouldn’t even do that— let alone give me permission to get out of the van. 

I began to grow angry, and with a pulsating nerve, I yell out to him, 

“Tell me everything right now! Or I’m leaving you!”

“I placed you as a bet tonight—okay?” he says hurriedly. 

“You placed me as a bet?”

He grows still while keeping ten and two on the wheel. A heavy flow of tears begins to stream down his cheekbone. 

“Those men in there—- they were after you.”

“Eric! —-WHAT ARE YOU EVEN—-”

“I MIGHT’VE ALMOST TRADED YOU ON THE POT! OKAY?—- OKAY?” He then yells. 

“Almost traded me?” 

“A lot of those men in there tonight— they’re some bad souls. Bad— bad, souls. The last gentleman I played tonight on the table, was one that I owed some money to. You remember the tall guy in the corner who kept looking at you? Yeah— that’s his colleague I guess you could say. He’s a pimp—- they’re both in the business.”

“Business?”

“Prostitution.”

I grew disoriented— shocked in horror. . 

“Are you saying Eric—- that, I was almost human trafficked?”

He sniffles while more tears begin to form. 

“He told me I owed him about two grand. I used to do work for the guy, —- other kind of work. When we “Chopped the Pot,” his railbird suggested that I trade you over to them, that way all bets are off.”

He then turns to me while still keeping time on the road. 

“Baby— believe me—- I love you. I would never let that happen. That’s why we had to get the hell out of there while we did.”

I didn’t know what to say—- I paralyzed tongue. I couldn’t form words, and I continued to not say anything. The city view from outside the window didn’t seem as enchanting as it was before. There was a daunting glow around the tall nightmarish buildings of the night, a cloud of despair, a landscape of evil and all that is good shall be thrown into the river, to sink below the land. I didn’t like New York anymore. 

Eric still wouldn’t let me get out of the van all the way back through Pittsburgh and onward. He dared to let me get out and use the bathroom on the side of the road. 

“Not until we get through Columbus, Ohio— my dear.” He’d entail. 

We were heading back for Indiana, as if all was supposed to be fine after tonight, to act as if none of this ever took place. At least, that’s the way it seemed with him, which made me feel all the more weary towards the guy. I wasn’t sure if I could ever forgive him for tonight. 

He painted the picture of an evil monster sitting there behind the wheel. 

He tried to hold my hand a few times, and I pulled away. 

“Baby—-” he’d say, trying to console me. I still wouldn’t speak a word, let alone show any sign of affection towards him. 

He finally pulled off at some rest stop and diner outside of Dayton, Ohio. The day break had come and the skies had turned to gray, rain had begun to fall. Eric pulled the van to the far side of the parking lot. 

“I’ll be sitting right here—” he entails me, “Make it fast.” 

The bathrooms were outside the rest stop. I ran over to them across the parking lot, trying to beat myself out of the pouring rain. 

In the bathroom, I stood there solemnly, looking at myself in the mirror—- calling myself stupid.

“What was I thinking?” I thought. “But then again, how was I supposed to know?”

I looked at the nearby little window above the toilet, planning out my imaginary escape. But, where was I gonna go? 

I splashed my face with the cold water from the sink, to shake myself out from my diluted state of mind, and then walked out of the bathroom. 

Standing between the view of the van and the bathroom door was a big tanker truck, with an old man standing outside of it, smoking a cigarette. He looked friendly in his old age. 

Unconsciously and out of desperation, I carefully went up to him all sympathetically. 

“Excuse me sir—- where are you headed?” I asked. 

“I’m heading out to California—” he replies with a very heavy southern twang beneath his tongue, “ —-San Diego, that is.” 

“What would I have to do to bum a ride from you all the way there?” I asked. Which was quite dumbly ironic, compared to the scenario that I had been casted in for the past twelve to twenty four hours. 

“Honey— you can sleep in the cab all the way there if you’d like. No charge at hand. In fact— I wouldn’t mind the company. It gets a little lonely along these long and empty highways.” 

He seemed like an innocent man, due to the old age in his blue eyes and crooked smile. I felt that I could at least trust him. 

I peeked around the corner of the truck where I saw Eric still sitting in the van, waiting for me. 

Without hesitation, I climbed upon the sidestep of the truck and sat down in the passenger seat. The old man climbed up in the driver’s side and began readjusting his headset, turning the knobs on his CB radio. 

“What are you runnin’ from?” He then asked me.

“Running from?”

“A pretty young woman like yourself shouldn’t be hitchhiking alone in these parts. There are some nasty men out there in the world.” 

“Can I trust you?” I asked him. 

He then says, 

“I have three daughters that are about your age. I’d take care of you just like I would them.” 

I felt comfortable. Not all heroes wear capes I suppose. 

He threw the truck into gear and we slowly rolled out of the parking lot and out onto the deserted junction. I looked in the rearview mirror to watch Eric and the van slowly dissipate from my line of sight. 

California— I thought—- I’ve always wanted to feel the vegetation, to smell the iodine within the air, to listen to the loud clapping of the ocean caps smacking against the shoreline, before rolling back out to sea again. 

Perhaps— California will be good for me.