The Salvation Shark, Chapter 41

Anton

If there's a reason to stop in New Jersey, I haven't found it yet. There are places where people aren't orange, and stores that don't have a 'Wal' in the name, but you catch the stink as soon as you cross the border. I suspect Pennsylvania and Delaware invest heavily in fans to hold back the flatulence of NYC. It lingers in a cloud over New Jersey, and the whole state smells unbearable. The best part about New Jersey is that it takes four hours to drive through. The worst part about New Jersey is that it takes four hours to drive through. I shake Becki awake when we come through the gates to the George Washington Bridge. It's like a remnant of Middle Earth, the gateway to a decrepit city across the river. Even the sky turned gray near the ground, but from here we can see the few buildings that still rise above the haze.

"Is that a city?" she asks.

"You must have been here before." Traffic is all but stopped on the bridge. I can exploit the occasional gap to advance, but we aren't arriving quickly.

"Is it New York?" Becki sits up in her seat, craning her neck to see the towers through the bridge supports. "I never went inside, except for New Years last year, and I was asleep on the bus when we arrived. They kept me up all night after two weeks of straight touring. I slept through my day off the next day and didn't even get to see my cousin in Roscoe like I planned." For several seconds, she prepares to say more but retracts her words before they make it out of her mouth.

"When did you start to hate it?" I ask.

Becki is quiet a few seconds, leaning her head on her hand against the window. "The first year was great, but they couldn't keep me out on tour very long. The next year SpectraCom devised an education plan that would only require me to be in school for two months if a tutor was kept on the tour bus. Do you know how not fun a tutor is? My Mom wouldn't care if I talked on the phone for ten minutes every night, or every couple nights." She takes a few deep breaths to keep herself calm. "SpectraCom knew better than my Mom though, and I couldn't do anything but rehearse and study. If the tour schedule was heavy, Saturday and Sunday were considered a time to catch up. Every time I turn around I hear what an awesome life I supposedly have, and the only time I know I'm actually happy is when I get to listen to my own music at night before I go to bed."

"They make you listen to your own songs at night?"

"No, not the music they make me sing, my music. The music I like on my own without anyone telling me what I should listen to."

"What is that?"

"Negativeland," she says, triumphantly. She often wondered if she would ever be able to say these words to other people. "And Bad Religion, and Sado-Massochrist. I've really been digging Cannibal Corpse, though I have no idea what anyone is saying."

I'm lost in trees and buildings. A few seconds pass before I look over, and Becki is smiling for the first time i can think of in a very long time.

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