The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Coming hot off the long, winding road, Jeremiah pulled his Camaro into the Sohio filling station and parked in front of one of the
pumps. He sat for a spell and studied all around the small station until he spotted a payphone located at the very edge of the
property.
"What can I get for you, sir?" An older white man clothed in a pair of greasy jeans and an equally grease-stained jacket came up
beside the window.
Unfazed by the man's abrupt appearance, Jeremiah got out of the car, and without even looking at him said, "You can fill it up."
Jeremiah dug deep into his pockets while walking slowly towards the phone booth. Once inside he shut the folding door and
inserted his quarter into the phone's slot. He hesitated ever so long before finding the bravery to dial the number he never
wanted to in the first place.
Coughing up any useless phlegm, Jeremiah uttered, "Uh, mom, dad. I know you guys are on vacation, and to be honest, I'm
kinda glad I got the machine instead."
Jeremiah watched as a semi-truck roared by him down the highway, sounding like an almighty war machine.
"I uh, I don't quite know where to begin. This year has been my undoing. I'm afraid I haven't been one hundred percent honest
with you guys lately. You see...you know all about Julie and I, but...I'm no longer a psychiatrist. To be truthful, I haven't been to
work since the summer; ever since what happened in Cuyahoga. God, I feel like such a moron." He wiped his sweaty brow.
"A lot has happened to me this year, and I don't know how to deal with any of it. It's hard for me to explain it all over the phone.
Hell, it would be hard to try and explain face to face."
Jeremiah then removed the phone from his ear for a few seconds to exhale before he resumed. "Life is all about experiences,
and believe me, I have experienced a lot over these past few months. I can't go back to work; I can't even go back to my own
apartment. All I can do is go forward. I know that I'm rambling, but I can't help myself. Please, mom, don't worry about me. Dad,
please don't try and figure me out. I'm leaving Ohio. I don't know for how long, but it's for the best. I'll get in touch with you guys
once or if I ever do get settled. For the record, I do believe in God...and other things, too. I love you both. Goodbye for now."
With tears streaming down his face, Jeremiah hung up the phone. He then opened the booth's door and made his way back to
his car, wiping his face dry along the way and taking heavy breaths just to clear the fog from his lungs.
"Mighty nice vehicle you have here!" The station attendant marveled.

Sniffling and exhaling, Jeremiah responded, "Yeah, it gets me to where I need to be. How much do I owe you?"
"Ten dollars even."
Jeremiah took out his wallet and handed the man two five dollar bills before going for the driver's side door.
"A person could get inside one of these and take off like a rocket." The man wiped his hands on a dirty rag. "If you don't mind me
asking, where do you plan on taking her?"
Just as he was about to climb inside Jeremiah paused and gazed down the road. "Rhode Island," his voice faltered.
"Really," the man perked up. "My wife has some distant cousins that live way out there. Mighty nice country this time of year. A
whole lot of pretty trees and leaves. If you're into that sort of thing, that is."
Jeremiah got inside, started the engine and pulled back onto the highway. "May God be with you, Isaac." He fondly muttered with
trembling lips.
He didn't speed, nor did he go at a turtle's pace, he just went on and on for as far as the road would tolerate him.
Neither fast nor slow.