Fly High, Fly Low [ON-HOLD]

Chapter 9.2

FLY HIGH, FLY LOW
By GinoongONEGANI

CHAPTER 9.2

EDMAR IS waiting for Jay outside the house, his hand propped against the head of a battered Rusco multicab. Grandpa is sitting on the pile of hay behind the truck, fastening a cord at the end of the pole. Next he does the hook.

Edmar smiles at him when their eyes connect, opening the door so Jay can slip in the passenger seat. He looks around. There's a bobblehead dog beneath the rear view mirror. The steering wheel looks as though it's been clawed by Ginger, so as the seats.

"Where are we going?" Jay asked as Edmar sat beside him.

"River," he says, grinning, and off to the woods they went. Edmar drives like one of those leads in the movies where they are being chased by the enemy. That's a good way to put he's a horrible driver. The train is already as it is, combines it with Edmar's poor skills, and they have the worst journey Jay can ever imagine.

"Are you sure you've ever driven a car before?" Jay asks, fighting the urge to vomit. The truck has been jumping from the get-go and that must have messed up his insides.

"Of course," Edmar beams. His right leg is somewhat shorter than his left; when he reaches for the brakes, he needs to scrooch closer than necessary. "I used to drive for a living." Jay doesn't want to imagine what it is like to be his passenger.

Jay's neck is moving at odd angles in every turn. While Grandpa looks like he's enjoying the whip of fresh air and the smell of the woods. He sits there like the constant jolt doesn't bother him. Like he's taking a rest at the veranda, still and serene, only having to dodge some branches that jump in his face.

"He's cool," Edmar says out of nowhere, looking at the rear view mirror with his grandfather on it. "He's really cool." And his smile doesn't feel like he's trying to influence Jay. It's purely his own thoughts about the old man.

"He hates me," is Jay's reply in a hushed voice. Grandpa won't hear them from the outside, and with that thought he adds louder, "I think he hates me." He proceeds to tell Edmar how his grandfather looks at him during dinner. "It's as if he doesn't want me to eat."

"Maybe you just misunderstand it," Edmar says, throwing a kind smile his way.

"You know the saying," Jay says, "eyes never lie."

"But that doesn't mean you read them right." Edmar drives around a big tree whose roots stick out from the ground. "I'm not defending him, though it might have already come off like that. There are times he could be really too much. He often shouts at me and my children. He also ignores me from time to time."

"And they would always blame it on the fact they are getting old. You never get angry with him?" Jay asks curiously.

"I have." Edmar nods slowly. "But I always choose to understand. I shout at my children too."

"It's your right."

"Is it really?" Edmar shrugs. "If you were my son, would you be happy if I shout at you?"

The answer is obvious. "No." Jay bites his lower lip. "You said he ignores you from time to time." He doesn't understand why it feels like he's trying to find something in the way he asks. Not just simple answers, but perhaps emotions. Emotions he can exploit. Perhaps to turn him against Grandpa.

"He does." The truck bounces horribly. "But I understand him."

"I don't understand," Jay says, stressed out.

"What do you do if you're not in the mood for a conversation?" Edmar asks wisely. Jay let him continue. "You avoid everyone as much as possible. Maybe that's his reason."

"You respect him too much," Jay grunted, looking out of the window.

"Maybe I could understand him because I'm already old, too."

"I don't want to get old."

They dodge hundreds of trees until the car reaches a clearing. The grass is somewhat fresher here. They must be close to the river. Jay braces himself as Edmar slams the gas. Soon he hears the crashing of waters against the rocks. He feels jittery in his seat.