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| Photo courtesy of Steve A. |
A Story From the Life Of Steve A.
Ghostwritten by Olivia P.
Fluidity
Most people in my life would come and go, and I didn’t particularly mind that. I’m sure that I, too, did the same. Sometimes they would change my life, others would not, but certainly they all gave me a good time. Relationships are fluid, sometimes you don’t know how people will impact you or what memories you will share.
My then in-style 70s glasses needed to be cleaned, along with the rest of the old and run-down gas station that I had been working at for a little while. I sat in my tall, leather stool and wondered when I would see the next customer. The small hotdogs rolled on their tracks as usual, and I saw the few regular folks I typically saw. My day was as uneventful as always. I thought out the rest of my day, from what joke I would tell the next guy who came in here, to brushing my teeth before going to bed.
“Hey Deeb,” Glenn said, walking in as his dirty blonde hair shimmered in the artificial light of the station. Shelby, a good friend of mine, had a younger sister that just simply couldn’t say
“Steve” but would try and say “Deeb” instead. The ridiculous nickname just seemed to stick. Glenn plopped himself in front of me.
“Hey!” I said with a smile, “What’s going on?”
“I want to go somewhere,” Glenn stated, serious as always. “I want to go to California.”
Glenn was a friend of a friend at first I saw him at parties a lot, as he hung around with my group of friends. None of us seemed to know where he came from, one day he just began to weave himself into our group. He was a quiet and mysterious guy, I never knew him personally. We all used to hang out on Front Street and talk about lots of things, from the girls we had an eye on, to where we could grab the best beer.
“How about somewhere else? Maybe somewhere closer,” I laughed. “I have to go to Shelby’s wedding in two months. I’d want to be in California for more than two months anyway. Let’s go to the East coast instead,” I suggested.
Glenn and I got our last paychecks. I don't think we had even $100 between us. We didn’t do too much packing to prepare: Glenn brought only a paper bag and I lived in my car, so I had everything with me. It was a boring but beautiful trip. I had never been further east than Indiana. Looking at all of the different hills and elevated land was so different compared to the flat cornland I was used to. But due to our need of food, drinks, and gas we ran out of cash pretty quick. To make a few bucks we started picking up hitchhikers, I think we picked up about seven or eight in total. Glenn and I would ask for a few dollars for gas, but it wasn’t mandatory. That only got us so far. Luckily, Glenn remembered that he had a friend in Norfolk, Virginia that we could stay with.
Glenn and I got to his friend's house and were able to crash there for a while. To make a few bucks for necessities, I got an overnight shift at an Esso station that had a great history of robberies. I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with too much drama. Around a little over a month I needed to return to Illinois for Shelby’s wedding.
I went to Shelby’s wedding and all went smoothly, and my life went back to its usual routine. Two or so weeks later, Glenn went into a diabetic episode. Glenn had had diabetes for a while, and used to be in the Marine Corps but was out on illness for it. He began to tell me that his vision was getting blurry and that he felt extremely light headed. He told me we needed to rush to the hospital. Glenn had to go to a specific hospital. The Hines V.A. hospital just south of Chicago. This, however, was about seven or eight towns away from where he and I lived. But we had to get there quickly, or we risked his safety. I began to speed, and a cop pulled me over, sensibly so. This guy had a beard that was bright orange and he spoke to me gruffly.
“Speeding?”
I attempted to sound as honest as possible, “Well, sir, my friend Glenn is having a diabetic episode. I am trying to get him to the Hines V.A. hospital so he can get some help.”
The officer paused, then picked up his radio and spoke. He had contacted each of the police departments from here until our destination telling them what I just told him. The police then escorted Glenn and I to the hospital.
I stayed with Glenn for a few hours to make sure nothing too serious would happen to him. I eventually had to leave so I could work the next day, but when I returned to pay Glenn a visit a day or so later he wasn't there. The nurses claimed they knew nothing of him and when they searched for his name they couldn’t find a “Glenn.” It was almost as if he never existed. It was strange but I don’t know that I’ve questioned it enough to be worried. Maybe he just left.
I never saw Glenn or heard from him ever again. I tried to search for him on facebook and on other platforms but I don’t even know Glenn’s last name. Who knows, maybe Glenn died. Maybe Glenn is okay. People can disappear from your life so quickly, even if they were such a large part of who you are. He was a large part of my teenage life, but we barely knew each other. He hung around me for such a long time. We sat in a car together for countless hours and barely got sick of each other. We knew small things about each other that barely scratched the surface of who we were. But I don’t mind that, people will float in and out of your life and will leave all sorts of stories and memories to stay when they leave.
