Taken for a Ride

Tithi Luadthong

Jack Coey

Silas stuck his thumb out and could see the clouds. The breeze from the cars slapped him in the face. He figured he had three hours to get to Keene, and didn’t know what to make of the clouds. He saw Linda’s face. He hurt her; he knew he did. It couldn’t have been any different, he told himself. He would start over. He was thirty-one. A fireengine red mustang flew by. He remembered feeling a girl up in the backseat of that car. Between two cans of beer and lust, he thought he would lose his mind. The girl, Natalie Phillips, who is now a mother of two, laughs whenever she sees him. A car slowed down and pulled to the shoulder of the road, and Silas ran to get in, and as he got to the car, the driver gunned the engine and drove off.

“What a prick,” he thought.

He stood as the dust swirled around him. He felt a sprinkle. Another car didn’t stop until he was soaking wet.

The driver looked about thirty with blonde hair and blue eyes, slightly pudgy, and there was church music playing. He looked like he’d been outdoors. “Where are you going?” “Keene.”

They rode in silence. “You must have a good reason to get soaking wet to get a ride?” “Not really. This wasn’t planned.”

The driver sadly smiled. “You can let me off whenever you need to. I don’t want to take you out of your way.” “I’m going to Keene.”

Silas watched the trees flickering by. “You live there?” “My calling is there…” “Oh? I see.”

Silas felt himself get tense. The church music. “We had a retreat in the mountains over the weekend. I’m Ryan. I’m the minister of The Blood of the Lamb Church in Keene.” “Oh, hey, I’m Silas, and I’m on retreat from an angry girlfriend.”

Another sad smile. “I thought it was funny,” thought Silas. “So, you have no clothes, no food, no shelter, no

family?”

“And I’m soaking wet…”

Once again, the tepid smile. “This guy ever laugh?” wondered Silas.

They were silent. “Part of our mission is we provide shelter for homeless people, and there are some cots available if you would be interested.”

Silas winced at the word, “cot.” “Sure. For a couple of nights anyway. I’m going to get a job pretty quick.” “What do you do?” “Pretty much anything. Gas station, retail, restaurant work – you name it.” “We ask that if you stay in our shelter, you become part of our congregation, so we know you’re getting the proper guidance.” “Oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

Ryan looked at Silas. “You don’t believe in Our Lord, Jesus Christ?” “Maybe it’s time for me to get out?” “You’re lost, hitchhiking to a strange town in the middle of a rain shower after fighting with your girlfriend, and you don’t need the comfort of The Lord?” “I don’t mean to upset you. How about you pull over and I’ll go on my way?” Ryan slowed the car and pulled over in the breakdown lane.

“You are throwing away a chance for a better life. It will take time and effort, but with the blessing of Our Lord, you can live a life of righteousness.” “Thanks for the ride, Ryan.”

Silas stood by the car, and was about to slam the door, when he saw in the backseat a sweatshirt with Keene Middle School written on it.

Jack Coey lives in Keene, NH.