Rhodes

Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE:

            I don’t think my story could have begun with anyone better. Because, as I waited patiently outside the Chicago train station, feeding pigeons some cashews, I had no idea what to expect. The profile of my future cab driver was not something consecutively on my mind; just a passing thought. I imagined a man, mid-forties, baseball cap, brown jacket, wicked beard, and amazing high school stories he could tell throughout the whole trip. Nevertheless, though, I made sure not to hold such high expectations.

            I could raise an army; I caught myself thinking as I saw over seven pigeons at my feet. I used half of a packet of cashews quickly before the pigeons picked up their tails and began strutting away. I saw the taxi pull up by the curb, seeing that the number, “912” was indeed, my taxi. I looked over to my right, seeing a kid no older than seven, stare at the pigeons. He had been watching me feed them for a while, so I gave him the rest of the cashews for him to have fun. I forgot that most parents don’t like their kids accepting nuts from strangers, so I didn’t think to ask, resulting in the kid’s mom confiscating them as soon as I turned my back. Little did the woman know, car windows show reflections on them.

            I threw my loaded high school backpack into the backseat before I decided to crawl inside. After I situated myself and closed the door, I finally looked toward the front seat. To my surprise, there were two people in the front. A balding, middle aged man was sitting in the driver’s seat and a blonde teenager was sitting in the passenger seat. I narrowed my eyes, thoroughly confused.

            “Uh, hey,” I greeted, glancing at both of them. The man looked in the rearview mirror, smiled, and greeted back, while the girl just ignored both of us all together.

            “See? That’s rude, that is exactly what I’m talking about! Say hi, Nicole,” The man exclaimed. The girl, who I assumed was named Nicole, turned around in her seat and smiled the most plastic of smiles.

            “Hi, do you know how many trees you’re murdering simply by encouraging this fossil-fuel based company? No? Figures.” The girl turned back around and slouched in her seat. I raised my eyebrows, taken aback by the young environmental activist’s attacks. I was never too fond of tree huggers—people always got us confused with the hippies who never left the 70s. I mean, I already recycle; I don’t need verbal attacks that shame me for not wanting to ride a bike across the country. Trust me, if I had the leg stamina and the internal motivation, I would maybe consider it; trust me.

            “That’s even more rude!” The man said, slapping the steering wheel.

            “No, it’s cool, Mister. I’m not worried—“

            “Figures.” 

            I glared at Nicole, noting how much she resembled a cheap knock-off of Clarissa Darling. She wore loose clothing, floral print mostly, and her blonde hair was as straight as a pin. She had typical bangs and her hair was parted in half so that one part was restrained by a hair-tie and the rest was left to fall on her shoulders. I mean, she was pretty, but in that generic way that I would have hated if I were still in high school. Plain Jane, I guess you could call her.

            “Apologize, Nicky,” The man implored.

            She scoffed, “As if.”

            “Apologize!”

            “No.”

            “Apologize or I swear to God, I’ll pull over this car right now!”

            This is when their whole Father-Daughter-Quarrel was beginning to become a problem… for me. While, yes, I wasn’t in a huge time-crunch to get to California, I still didn’t want to take unnecessary detours for family counseling. I scooted forward in my seat so my elbows were perched on both the front seats. I leaned in, so my face was in the middle of them both.

            “Or we could not; just an idea,” I laughed nervously.

            The man looked at me from the corner of his eyes and sighed, “No, I know, I’m sorry; you’re a valuable customer, we won’t waste your time.”

            “I never got your name, Mister,” I informed, “What is it? I’m Arthur, Arthur Rhodes.”

            “Hello Arthur, I’m Peter Sigmore. I’d shake your hand but that’s against the company’s policy.”

            “Shaking hands?”

            “No, letting go of the steering wheel.”

            “Oh, why did you bring your daughter on a three hour drive?”

            I was genuinely curious on what had possessed him to bring an angst-driven teenager on a three hour trip (make six hours for the ride back). Mr. Peter Sigmore laughed nervously, while Clarissa Darling—uh, Nicole—muttered curses under her breath.

            “Father-daughter bonding time, Mr. Rhodes; wife’s idea.”

            I nodded understandingly, despite the fact I wasn’t a father… or had a daughter…  or had a wife…

            “Just call me Rhodes, Mister,” I smiled. For once, I found myself liking an adult more than a teenager, which was an odd feeling. I’ve always seemed to sympathize with people my age, but it was really hard to be on the same page with a girl like Nicole. But then again, she didn’t seem any older than sixteen.

            “So, what? Are you a runaway? Dead-beat? Junkie? You look like an ugly version of Jared Leto,” Nicole spat. She had turned around in her seat so her annoying brown eyes studied me like an open book. I was about to open my mouth and exploit her Clarissa Darling impersonation when her father intervened instead.

            “Nicole! That is none of your business! You have no idea what he could have gone through!”

            “I’m twenty-one,” I muttered, saddened. For some reason, I didn’t look my age, and that really ticked me off. Nicole laughed breathlessly and I realized she had one of those ugly laughs, the ones that were so obviously fake I wondered if her windpipe was made of plastic.

            “You don’t look twenty-one,” She accused.

            “Oh, eat my shorts, why don’t you?”

            “See! You don’t even act your age!”

            “Mister, please control your daughter.”

            He laughed, “Nicole, c’mon, stop annoying the guy.”

            Unfortunately, Nicole took that single sentence as a challenge, which only set the mood for the rest of the drive. She decided a three hour drive was as good a time as any to preach about the Earth’s inevitable demise and how we, specifically, are only encouraging the massive human footprint that crushes everything in its wake. I had never felt angrier at another person while simultaneously being angry at myself than at that moment. I suddenly felt like my recycling habits wouldn’t suffice and that Nicole Sigmore was about the last person I needed to carpool with. She was just, in frank terms, the epitome of teenage self-righteousness. And I was literally thinking about doing the Earth and I a favor by just walking the rest of the way.