Finally, Forever(12)
Gray pulls his eyebrows together at my description. “You mean like Harry and the Hendersons?” he asks and looks over at me.
This time I pull my eyebrows together. “What?”
“It’s basically the same storyline, but with a Sasquatch.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You’ve never seen Harry and the Hendersons?” he asks, a little condescendingly, and I shake my head. “It’s one of the greatest movies of all times,” he tells me. “Well, at least when you’re eight.” He starts to summarize the plot, how a family finds a Sasquatch on a camping trip and they bring him home and fall in love with him. But Harry never fits into their world.
“Wow,” I say and shake my head at the synopsis. “What a great message.”
“It’s a powerful film,” he agrees.
“There should be more movies with a lead Sasquatch,” I say. “They exist, you know.”
He nods. “I never doubted it. They’re in the Pacific Northwest.”
“In the Olympic National Park,” I add.
“Definitely,” he says.
“When I was driving through Northern California, I met a guy who saw one.”
Gray’s eyes flash to mine. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious. He said one night he was driving on this old gravel road along the Klamath River, and rocks started hitting his car from a bluff up above. He looked up and saw a huge shadow duck under the trees.” I nod with certainty. “It was Bigfoot. They’re known for throwing rocks when they’re feeling threatened. I guess their weaponry hasn’t evolved very much.”
Gray smiles at me and I immediately look away. Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten him talking. Our conversations have always been my favorite foreplay. Rachel’s face slams into my mind, as if her spirit is suddenly with us in the car, reminding me to behave. I see her manicured finger shaking at me. I picture her raspberry-pink stained lips. I’m impressed with women that can wear lipstick. I always lick it off.
“So, what’s the family emergency?” Gray asks.
I sigh and remember this isn’t truly a fun, carefree road trip.
“My sister ran away,” I say.
“Serena?” he asks and I nod. “Wait, isn’t she out of high school?” he asks.
“She just graduated. She’s been eighteen for exactly three days. She didn’t even return our birthday calls.”
“She’s eighteen and she’s out of high school,” he repeats to clarify the facts. “Then wouldn’t the correct phrase be ‘she moved away’?”
“It’s not that easy,” I tell him. “She’s pregnant.”
“Oh,” Gray says. “That changes things.”
I nod. “She got knocked up by a jerk-off,” I inform him. “She never even told us. She managed to hide it from my mom all summer. They ran off together three weeks ago and all she left us was a note.”
“You’re trying to track her down?” he asks. “How do you know where to look?”
“He was supposed to perform in Omaha tonight, but they canceled his show. All I know is he has two shows scheduled in Flagstaff, Arizona, two days from now. So I need to get there.”
“Shows? Is he a musician?”
I shake my head with disgust. “Worse. He’s a stand-up comedian.”
“That’s cool,” Gray says. “Is he funny?” I stare at Gray as if he suddenly started speaking in an unknown dialect. “Have you ever heard him perform?” he asks me.
“I don’t care if he’s Dane Cook,” I say. “He impregnated my baby sister. She’s due in two weeks and she doesn’t have a permanent address. She won’t answer her phone. She refuses to talk to us.”
He smiles, this thoughtful, opinionated smile and now I know he has some theories.
“Does this comedian have a name or should we just call him The Impregnator?”
I start to smile but just as quickly it fades. “Mike. Mike Stone.”
“What makes him such a jerk-off?” Gray asks.
“He’s ten years older than Serena.”
Gray looks indifferent. He waves his hand for me to continue and I frown at him.
“Isn’t that bad enough?” I ask. “It’s statutory rape.”
“Not if it was consensual,” he points out. I open my mouth to argue but he keeps going. “Maybe she threw herself at him. Maybe she lied about her age. Girls do it all the time.”
“Gray—”
“Think about it. If he tours the country and he’s hilarious and slightly better looking than a road sign, girls probably throw themselves at him. You know how many girls chase us after baseball games? They literally stalk our cars us like psychopaths and they think it’s really cute. I want to hold up a sign that says, ‘have some self-respect.’”