Fast Car

by erotic scribbler

©Copyright 2021 erotic scribbler

Fast Car tells the story of CJ, a teenager escaping a difficult home life with his mother's alcoholism. He plans to leave in his '70 Pontiac LeMans but first stops to say goodbye to Mimi, a close family friend. What happens at Mimi’s changes CJ’s life.

Chapter 1

CJ smiled at the yellow flowers that waved as cars passed on Townline Road. A few weeks earlier, mounds of browning snow towered along roadsides, in driveways, and around light poles in parking lots. It had been a record year for his plow business thanks to what the weatherman called “Rockland County’s greatest accumulations since,” some year that didn't mean anything to CJ.

To him, the winter of 1990 was the one to remember. That was the year CJ had purchased the Sierra-yellow 1970 Pontiac that he had just taken out of the garage. The car and a road trip changed the course of his life.

In 1990, there wasn't a fleet of trucks and snowblowers, just a 16-year-old boy with a plan, a shovel, and pain to motivate him. Fast Car had been on the radio for two years, and like Tracy Chapman, CJ wanted a ticket to anywhere. He had been working and hiding money from his mother since he was eleven.

In the summer, CJ had lawn jobs, plus a gig at the 7-Eleven, putting the Sunday papers together. He shoveled through the hellacious winter, and by spring, CJ had more than enough cash to buy Mrs. Brophy’s car. It had been in her garage since her husband died. The 1970 LeMans didn't have GTO badges, bucket seats, or four-on-the-floor, but it was a fast car, fast enough to fly away.

The plan had been to leave when summer vacation started, but CJ had had enough. Enough canned beans, microwaved mac & cheese, booze fetching, going for cigarettes, drunken rants, loud parties, screaming fights, hiding, and being blamed for her drinking, and everything else. He had spent enough time watching his mother die a little more each day.

CJ left a note on his bed that read, “Please get help,” and tossed a suitcase and toolbox in the trunk, blankets, and pillows in the backseat, and his music collection upfront. Fear and nervous energy twisted his stomach as he turned the key. The dual exhaust rumbled through CJ, boosting his adrenaline. He wanted to speed so fast he felt drunk, but there was one stop to be made before hitting the highway.

At nine on a Saturday morning, CJ expected an annoyed, yawning person to open the door. He grabbed the wrought iron railing and waited. The door opened, and the woman with a girl’s face looked at him. He clamped down. Sharp, rusty paint flakes dug into his palm, but the surge of emotions cut him deep.

On the drive over, CJ had been fearfully excited, hopeful, and relieved to get away. Now, standing on the stoop, ready to say goodbye, his eyes were on fire. It was a familiar feeling. He had already been a burden, pushed Mimi away, so he always fought back tears. This was different. An emotional bear hug was crushing his chest.

“CJ, what's wrong? What happened?”

Chapter 2

The woman's arms were suddenly around him. The warm press of her body and the smell of hair cracked his facade. The brave, adventurous man with a fast car, a road atlas, and a destination reverted to the boy, crying on the shoulder of the only person he knew loved him. Maybe there had been a time when his mother hugged him, or his father had, but CJ only remembered Mimi holding him that way.

“Nothings wrong, I'm fine,” CJ said.

“Coulda fooled me,” Mimi said. “Come in. We'll talk.”

Inside, CJ looked at the couch he had spent so many hours on. They rented movies, watched TV, and most of all, they listened to music together. Mimi had Bruce Springsteen, the Rolling Stones, Beatles, Deep Purple, and so many more groups that CJ loved. She made him cassettes to play on his Sony Walkman. Headphones on, hiding in his closet, music had always been his fast car.

“Sit,” Mimi said.

“No, I can't. I'm gonna go . . . I'm leaving.”

Mimi cocked her head. “Then why did you wake me up?”

CJ stared. Mimi’s T-shirt was wrinkled, and her wavy black hair was flat on one side and a crazy mess on the other. It made him smile. As a girl, Mimi had been cute, as a teenager, cute and pretty, now, Mimi was beautiful. He thought of her as a friend, someone who got it, got him. They were the same, both survivors.

“I stopped to say goodbye. I'm going to Florida.”

“Whoa, hold on.” Mimi held up her hands. “Slow down. School, you can't . . . can’t leave. I can't let you.”

The words had been what CJ expected the adult Mimi to say, but her expression and tone weren't authoritative. She seemed scared or sad and sounded pleading. “I have to. My stuff is in the car. I have to get away from here.”

Resignation washed over Mimi's face, and then a smile appeared. “Okay, but I'm coming.”

“You can't.”

“You don't want me to?”

“No, yes, but you can't. Your job and-”

“Screw it. I can be a waitress and bartender anywhere, and I’m sick of this winter shit.”

CJ wanted to take Mimi seriously, but he knew it was a ploy. She was stalling, buying time to think. “I'm going, really, it doesn't matter what you say.”

“Me too,” Mimi said. “It'll be a blast. Sprung from cages, steppin’ out over the line. We gotta get out while we’re young. Let me grab a shower and pack while you raid the kitchen. Get my music, too.” She closed the bedroom door.

CJ had feared and dreaded saying goodbye to Mimi. It was the only part of his plan that made him sad, so it was natural that Mimi going with him felt good. That didn’t make him less suspicious or prepared to run. Adults don’t say screw it and take off in a car. That was behavior reserved for impulsive teenagers. But wasn’t that what his father did?