Thirty minutes passed. Andrew and Virginia were now on the road together in the big white pickup. Virginia wore her hood close over her head. They were on the road for at least fifteen minutes, and neither one uttered a word. Andrew tried several times to strike up a conversation, but every thought seemed to be a dumb one. Finally, after a long time of driving and silence, Andrew mustered up the only thing he believed would express his concern.
"Virginia," he began, "I understand that things have not been exactly what you have expected. But I'm concerned for you, Honey. I need to know if there is anything that I can do to help you. How do you feel about everything?"
Virginia did not answer. She faced forward, eyes fixed on the road. Neither a shift nor a twitch of body motion hinted that she had heard her uncle speak to her.
Andrew's heart sank. Everything he was doing seemed to fail him—everything!
Another thirty minutes passed, and they soon pulled into a school parking lot. The school was built of red brick and followed the architecture of a nineteenth-century college. Above the school was a sign reading Mason High. The place looked a bit dirty. Windows were covered in a smudge and guarded with bars. Despite its beautiful vintage appeal, its maintenance had been neglected and subjected to the vandals of the town.
Across the parking lot, opposite the high school façade, was a large clock tower that reached four stories tall, its brick matching the school. To Virginia's amazement, the clock tower was in better condition than the school building; its face read 8:03 a.m. Its top was a large white dome supported by five pillars with a giant bell hanging inside.
The campus was in decent condition. The lawn was mowed, beautiful saplings were planted around the school grounds, and even a flowerbed encompassed the front of the school. The only uninviting thing to be seen was the school building itself.
"Well, this is it," said Andrew, parking the truck. He turned off the diesel engine and looked at his niece. "What do you think?"
Virginia did not know what to think. Everything had beauty written all over it, but the vandalism of the building itself was what spoiled the attraction of the school.
She managed to express false emotions finally. "It's great. How soon can I get signed up?"
Surprised, Andrew opened his door. "Well, hopefully, today."
Virginia opened her door and got out of the truck. Together, she and her uncle walked up the brick steps and through the main double doors of the school.
"Now, because of work, I will not be able to drive you to school," said Andrew. "So, you could take the school bus or the Bronco parked in the barn. Which one would you prefer?"
Virginia looked at her uncle with a quizzical expression. "What's a Bronco?"
Virginia stood in front of the two big barn doors as Andrew went to open them. With a big push on each handle, the massive doors slid open. Stationed inside the barn gazing at Virginia was a pair of headlights that looked like floodlights mounted upon an old rusty red truck with a hardtop fastened on the back.
"Now, I know it doesn't look like much," Andrew said, "but this has gotten me out of more complications than you could imagine."
He went over and slapped his hand on top of the hood. "This is by far the most powerful engine I have ever seen. One time, we had the tractor stuck deep in mud; with this bad boy's help, we could pull it out with a thirty-foot chain."
Virginia stood with her arms crossed, an unimpressed look on her face.
"Well, C'mon, now! Have a look at her."
Andrew walked around to the driver's door and opened it up. "Take a seat and see what you think from the inside."
Virginia lowered her head and walked toward the monstrous vehicle. She stood in front of the open door, looking into the truck. The seat had a few cuts in the cloth fabric. The floor had been covered in mud and dead leaves. The leather on the steering wheel was old and had begun to dry rot.
"Well, go on now," encouraged Andrew. "Hop in!"
Virginia grabbed the steering wheel and pulled herself into the truck, sitting down upon its worn cushion.
Andrew closed the door and ran around to the other side of the vehicle, acting as if he was sixteen and his friend was about to give him a ride in a new car.
He opened the door and plopped down in the passenger seat. "Alright, do you know how to drive a stick?"
Virginia's face went blank momentarily as she stared aimlessly at the steering wheel. "Yes…Dad taught me a year ago when I was sixteen."
Andrew became reverent. "Oh…well, have you driven a lot then with a stick shift?"
Virginia looked down at the shifter. "Not really. I mean, I know how to drive. I've done it a couple of times in the past."
Andrew raised his hands. "And you see, that's the beauty of it because you already know how to drive one. Your dad was always a good—"
Andrew caught himself midsentence. Quickly, he restructured his words. "If your dad taught you, then this should be easy."
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small carabiner with three keys. "This one opens the tailgate. This one unlocks the driver's door. And this one starts the truck. We had to replace the lock on the driver-side door; that's why there's a third key."
He handed them to Virginia. "Go ahead! Fire her up!"
Virginia took the keys from her uncle. She placed the proper one into the ignition and turned it. Nothing happened.
"Oh, the clutch, Honey," said Andrew, pointing to the pedal on the far-left side of the firewall. "You have to push in the clutch—and the brake—to start it up."
Virginia placed her left foot on the clutch and her right on the brake, pushing them both to the floor. She turned the key once more. Then, with a pitter and a patter counting off like a metronome, the engine turned and began to roar like a hungry beast.
"Ah, yes!" exclaimed Andrew. "You hear that, Honey? That's the sound of power."
Virginia seemed more scared than excited about the loud engine. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands tightly. "What now?"
"Okay, now this bad boy is a very old model truck, but your dad was a fine man, and I have no doubt that he taught you well! It's just like riding a bicycle; you never forget."
Virginia continued to stare unresponsively at the steering wheel, and Andrew saw that his encouragement was not helping.
He reached out, gently took Virginia's right hand, and placed it upon the shifter. "Okay, Honey, like this: take the shifter and put it up in the far-left corner for first gear." With his hand upon hers, Andrew guided Virginia's hand and helped her place it into first gear. "Just like that, Sweetie…"
Virginia's eyes glazed over as she stared down at the shifter. An old soft voice played in her head: That's right, Sweetie, just like that. Virginia was no longer in the old Bronco. She was in a sporty BMW. The seats were clean leather, and the floor was spotless. The sun was out, and the sky was bright blue. The old voice was like a familiar dream of the past, calmly giving her instructions on the car's mechanisms and the how's and why's of properly shifting gears. But she did not pay any attention to the vehicle. She just looked at the man sitting next to her. He was in his late forties. He had Virginia's brown eyes and nose. His hair was black, short, and tightly curled. He rested his hand on top of Virginia's hand as she held the shifter to the car, guiding her through every gear before they drove out onto the street. Now, when you are on the road, you will have to take control and shift yourself, but don't worry. The man gave a little reassuring squeeze on top of Virginia's hand. I'll be here with you; should you need any help, just say so, and I'll help guide you.
"Virginia," came a voice. "Virginia?"
Virginia shook her head as if she had come out of a trance. She looked up at her uncle.
"Virginia, is everything alright?" asked Andrew.
Virginia looked down at the shifter with Andrew's hand still on top of hers.
But don't worry. I'll be here with you.
Her eyes began to swell, and her face tightened and turned red. Tears ran down her cheeks. She took her feet off the clutch and the brake. The truck shook, and the engine died. She thrust the door open and hopped out. Crossing her arms and lowering her head, she returned to the house.
Andrew sat in the truck, watching her walk down the gravel driveway. He looked down at his left hand. The bags under his eyes began to puff up, and his lips started to tremble. He gripped his hand into a fist and slammed it into the dashboard. He cursed and hit the dashboard a few more times. Pressing his palms into his forehead, he leaned back into the seat.
"Oh, God, help me," he prayed. "What am I supposed to do?"
Virginia opened the house's side door that led into the kitchen and slammed it behind her. She charged through the kitchen, into the foyer, and up the stairs. She ran up to her room and slammed the door behind her. Her breathing was deep, her eyes red, and her cheeks were streaked by cascading tears. Disillusioned and undirected, she walked back and forth in her room. Her soul burned within her chest.
"You said you would be there for me," she mumbled.
She stopped and looked up into the heavens, pointing a finger at someone high above her.
"You said you would be there for me!" she screamed. "You both were there for me! Why?! Why are you not here?!"
She fell to the floor sobbing and dug her fingers into the carpet beneath her. No one was there to hold her as they could. No one was there to kiss or love her as they would. No one was there to cradle her in his arms as he did; no one was there to stroke her hair like she would. No one was there like they had been.
She gnashed her teeth and gripped the carpet fibers in her fists as she tried to hold back the pain. The burning in her soul would not loosen, and the indescribable anguish of her broken heart translated through her bitter weeping.