My Price

“Come get lost with me tonight, like we used to.” 

Abby just stared out the passenger window, trying to find the stars in the darkness. Without turning to Simon, she replied,

 “No. Those days are gone and Ron is waiting for me.” 

The door clicked open, the cab light came on as she exited. Closing the door behind her, she left Simon alone in the dashboard glow. Soon, headlight beams swirled from Abby’s car turning around to leave the dirt parking lot. 

It had been an hour since Simon had left the lot and headed for the hills to get lost. Drifting back into memories, he lit another cigarette. The flame danced in the air coming from the open window. He watched the flame connect to the cig. Paper burned to black and glowing yellow as tobacco combusted. Lost in memories and motor skills, Simon did not notice the man walking along the side of the dirt road. Quickly swerving to the left, the pick up started to fishtail before being corrected. The vehicle came to a complete stop. 

Dust billowed around and past the glowing red taillights. In the hollow silence of the night the engine purred frustratingly. The driver's door groaned at being suddenly opened by unkind hands. As Simon's feet hit the dirt, he began to yell, “What the hell is your problem? Wandering around out here in the dark?” 

Gravel popped under his boots, continuing at a heavy stride towards the man, “You son of a —” 

Simon stopped mid sentence the closer he got to the man. He could see in the taillight's shadow that a birthmark covered the right side of the man’s face. Dark like blood under fine blonde hair, fading into a pink stain that couldn’t be removed from bright white bathroom tiles. It wasn’t just the starkness of the birthmark, this whole man seemed to be peculiar.

           “Hey, I am sorry about that, “ Simon said, running his hand across the back of his neck, the cigarette still in his fingers. Simon shifted in the stillness that hung in the air. Moving out of the tailight, the man was bathed in red, hiding the birthmark.

           “It's quite alright. I shouldn't have been wandering. But my car broke down over by White Owl Butte. So I figured that walking would be faster to find help than just sitting there,” the man replied in a soft, clear voice. 

White Owl Butte was four miles to the west of where they were now. How long had he been wandering for? Simon was caught. Should he give this man a lift back to his car and help? Or leave him? He knew that Abby would not agree, especially with how peculiar this man was. “I will give you a lift and see what I can do to help with your car,” said Simon. The man smiled and headed to the passenger side door.  

For the first half mile, the cab was quiet, not even the radio was on. Simon was on his second cigarette from picking this man up. The new moon sky still blanketed the open fields in a blue hue, while the forests stood in shadow. A coyote darted across the road from the field, seeking comfort. Simon let off the gas pedal for a brief second to let the canine pass, even though he was only going twenty miles an hour. He should be driving faster to drop this man off and have him gone. 

“So why are you out here driving by yourself?” the man asked, breaking the tension of the voyage. 

Simon tossed the butt of his cig out the window then lit another. He then told this stranger all about Abby and their relationship, how he still loved her but she had moved on. After Simon finished, the man softly sighed and put his index finger to his lips, “What would you do to get her back? What kind of price would you pay? If you could.” asked the man.

Simon paused as he was about to take another drag and looked over at the man. Who still looked straight ahead. Was he making conversation or being serious? Simon could not tell. He thought about the question, gnawing at it. “I would want Ron to disappear from her life forever, I want her to come back to me. That there would be no way for him to return,” he said, taking a long drag from his cigarette. 

Nothing more was asked or said on the topic. Simon helped jump the car to get the man back to town.

”Thanks again for your help and I hope you are able to get some sort of exchange to bring you peace to your broken heart,” the man then extended his hand out the car window for Simon.

—--

Sunshine came through the windshield. The smell of aspens and wild flowers greeted Simon as his head rested on the open driver side window. Sitting up, he saw that he was back in the dirt parking lot where Abby had left him. Anger, frustration, and bewilderment spun in his head. Trying to put it all together, another vehicle entered the lot. Looking up, he noticed that it was Ron’s Jeep. 

Climbing from the pickup, Simon retrieved the pistol from the door pocket. As he approached Ron, he didn’t exit the Jeep but rolled his window down. The man can't even get out and face me. Ron was trying to tell him something, but all he heard was Abby's name through the hurt, before the pistol went off. The sun was cold as Simon made his way back to his pick up. 

—--

The dirt lot hadn’t changed in thirty-five years. It was still a place for people to park for recreational activities. Simon stretched his hands on the steering wheel as the setting sun gleamed off his gold wedding band. Yes, the lot was still home to adventurers, but it was also the home of one unsolved murder. After helping the Birthmark Man with his car, Simon drove home and went to sleep, only to be woken the next afternoon to a phone call from Abby. She was in a panic. Ron hadn’t shown up to take her to brunch and wasn’t answering his phone. They didn’t find his body until four days later. A group of dirt bikers unloading at the lot noticed fly activity coming from the Jeep.

It took a long time for Abby to get over the loss, but Simon never left her side. Over the years he would wake in a cold sweat and not remember why he had woken. In this event, he could only think of Ron and come to the lot.

Twisting the wedding band, he recalled all the blissful years with Abby. His heart filled with joy, while his stomach panged with guilt. Why should he feel guilty? He wasn’t responsible. Just then there was a tap on the passenger window. Turning to see who the visitor was, Simon opened his door, emptying his stomach into the dry dirt.

The Birthmark Man let himself in and took a seat next to Simon. While Simon finished, the man looked straight out the windshield and sighed. Once Simon had returned to the cab, the man spoke,

 “What was your price?” 

Simon, pale face and sweating could only blink. 

“What was the price? To have lived a blissful life with Abby. A life that was not yours to have. You stole this life. Masquerading as love. You became a thief, when you took that love from Abby and Ron. She had moved on, but you selfishly clung.”

Simon was trying to follow, but over and over he was asking himself, “My price?” not sure what this man was getting at. I didn’t kill Ron. He was nowhere near the lot when he was killed. This had to be a dream.

“This is no dream Simon. I am very much here and your price must be verified.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about. I helped you thirty-five years ago and that is it. Now get out of my truck!”

The Birthmark Man continued to stare out the window sighing softly on occasion. Like the old tuning of a radio, the dashboard came to life. What Simon heard was Ron's voice.

 “Hey Simon, I thought you would be up here. I have been meaning to talk to you about Abby. Simon, let me out of the Jeep. Man, don’t do that, put the pistol down.” Then the sound of a gunshot echoed in the cab. 

Simon stared horrified at the dashboard, processing what he had just heard. This was some trick, some sort of joke. This man must want some money. That is why he keeps asking what my price is. 

“There is no way that is real. I wasn't up here that morning. I was at home asleep.” Simon said in a soft, unsure voice.

“Oh, yes you were. There have been many unsolved events like Ron’s death. Where a dream has made it a reality.” the Birthmark Man said, turning to look at Simon for the first time.

Something was off as the man turned to look at him. The birthmark moved sides and now was deep red sticky blood, flies trapped in the muck. The more Simon looked at the man the more he recognized Ron. Simon was about to empty his stomach again but couldn’t. “Ghosts have the future, Simon, as well as the past. But only shortly in their timeline. I was hoping that you would have driven more after our encounter. Been able to clear your head some more before heading home. No matter how many times we have done this, your price has always been the same for love.”

“What are you talking about ‘my price’?”

Just then, another vehicle entered the lot. Simon didn’t even bother to see who it was. He wanted answers and not more cryptic riddles. Ron pressed his index finger to his lips, before sighing one last time. “Simon, you took what was not yours. You destroyed more than Abby’s life. Even though you think that you two have this blissful marriage, you are not the only one masquerading through the last thirty-five years. For that, you have a price.”

Simon didn’t get to answer Ron. Someone was tapping on the driver's side window. He turned to see a man in his early forties. Rolling his window down Simon faintly heard, thirty-five for thirty-five. 

“Can I help you?” asked Simon.

“Yes you can,” said the younger man, “are you Simon?”

“Yes I am.”

The younger man smiled and raised a pistol, “You killed my father.” Then the pistol went off.