Longrider

           The drive from Baltimore to Columbia would’ve only taken eight hours if Nathaniel possessed the boldness to hijack a car. However, he had already weighed his chances. Stolen car and the lack of a driver's license seemed like he was holding a flashing neon sign that read “pull me over and take me to jail”. Instead, he settled for the cheapest ticket that he could get at the furthest greyhound station, totaling him a thirteen hour journey ahead. He settled in the hard seat, tucking his small duffel between his legs. He kept his hand loosely on the strap, trying not to settle into the feeling of relief in his chest. 

          From Columbia he could settle in for a few days before heading to California. He’d found his mother’s escape plan years ago, hidden in her grandmother’s old trunk. Once Nathaniel had cracked the code, he realized it was for connections that could get her the passports and documents she’d need. He could use them to get to Mexico, and from there he didn’t know. He wondered if his father had found these, or if he had found out another way, since it made no sense to keep them all these years. 

          He heard a scream, diverting these thoughts as his head whipped towards the outburst. It took him a few seconds more than it should’ve to realize it was a child laughing. The woman chasing him however was not as entertained. He watched her scoop him up breathlessly as she caught up to him, bags weighing down her shoulders.

          Her bruised eye caught him as she walked around the packed row of bodies. He was used to the staring due to the long, rough scar down his cheek and neck. Yet, the buzzing in his chest still forced his hand to double check the zipper of his hoodie. She couldn’t see the bloody T-shirt underneath. In the busy station, the only available seat was next to Nathaniel. She sat down with a huff, the kid now squirming restlessly to get free. The mother scolded him in some Spanish that Neil understood, most he didn’t, and he simmered down. 

          Nathaniel eased his body away, enough to not come off as rude. However, his bright hair seemed to be a beacon from the kid’s interest. He felt the sharp yank, followed by a flustered reprimand as the mother pried his hand off. “I’m so sorry.” She rushed, but Nathaniel heard the exhaustion in her voice. “Mijo say you’re sorry.” The way she held him now looked like a loose straight jacket, but he looked between the two with big eyes as he whispered his apology. 

          “It’s fine.” Nathaniel said, trying to adjust himself further away without being obvious. The woman bounced the son to settle him down, “He’s just cranky.” Nathaniel wasn’t sure whether she was still apologizing or trying to make conversation to keep herself awake. “Where are you heading?” He asked softly, needing the distraction himself. She settled her head to rest on her sons as he dozed off. “Raleigh.” She said looking at the ticket in her hand, Nathaniel didn’t miss the question in her town as she double checked. Though he just nodded. 

          “You?” She asked, a quick reminder to Nathaniel on how conversations worked. “Oh, Columbia.” He answered firmer than she had. “Family.” He said without her asking further. She furrowed her brows, eyeing him over in a quick assessment that made Nathaniel want to back away further. “Your parents let you travel that far alone?” She said, without holding back the judgement in her tone as she unconsciously held her young son closer. He could’ve just said he was nineteen, that he was a college student and does it every holiday so this isn’t much different, but he didn’t want to lie. He felt the relief bubble in his chest as he said something brutally honest to a total stranger. “They’re dead.” Nathaniel said calmly, trying to keep his tone steady and he was fighting the smile that wanted to upturn his lips. 

          Her face dropped slightly, her lips flattening. “Sorry.” She said, not dropping his eyes for a moment. He dropped hers, looking to the board to check on the arrival time. “Looks like we’re on the same one.” He says, pointing to the board so she’d move the gaze burning holes in his neck. It worked thankfully. “You can sit next to Gabriel and I.” The way she enunciated the syllables of her son’s name with such emphasis reminded Nathaniel too much of his late mother’s tendency to do the same. “I’d rather you than some creep.” She said softer, glancing around in either fear someone overheard or to emphasize her point, Nathaniel didn’t know. “Thanks” he said softly and settled in waiting for the bus to arrive.