Far From Here

Canada. Why must it be Canada? I’ve never been there but it doesn’t sound that exciting. What does Canada have to offer that I can’t find right here in Michigan? Cheap college, according to my dad. Which, I guess that’s true but is it really worth moving out of the country for? Most people do perfectly fine going to US colleges. But I was not most people, as my parents too often reminded me, because most people had enough money to pay their bills each month.

            I had been saving for two years after high school to be able to go to college and study music but even my life’s savings wasn’t enough for American tuition. It was my dad’s idea for me to move to Canada, all because he saw some news report on how it was so much cheaper to get an education there than in the states. Given my choice, I would have just taken out some student loans and paid them off once I graduated from somewhere right here in Michigan. My parents however said that would not be an option. They told me that if I took out student loans they wouldn’t help out with the cost at all.

            So here I am, driving this ancient Volks Wagon Beetle all the way up to Vancouver where I’m going to move in with a friend of my cousin. We were both going to a university near there so we had agreed to be roommates. I’ve never actually met her before, all I know is that her name is Kelly and she was my cousin’s best friend before she moved to Canada last year. She was two years younger than me, right out of high school.

            As I drove along the road the evening faded into night. There weren’t any other cars in sight. I had never been in this area before and I really hoped I didn’t get lost. It was so quiet with no one else on the road. I fixed this by turning the radio on. None of my stations would come in anymore. Oh well, I guess I would just have to settle for Canadian music. I might as well start getting used to it now.

            I flipped to the first station. “And I was like baby, baby, baby OOHH, like…” Oh dear god no, not Justin Beiber. I changed to the next one but it was just a weather report. I switched the station for a third time. “Try a little more, little more, little more. They slap you like a        and you take it like a      .” I had never heard this song before but I hated it when radio stations took words out of songs leaving an empty space. I was about to change the station again, but something about the song made me keep listening to it. Maybe it was the sound of the singer’s voice. I didn’t know why, but for some reason I was intrigued by it.

            Just as the song was coming to an end I felt my car slowing down. I gave it a little more gas but it did nothing. My car came to a complete stop a few more feet down the road. Shit. What was I going to do now? I was all alone in unfamiliar territory and there was no one else around. Looking out the windshield I contemplated my options. I could spend the night in my car. But then what would I do in the morning? I could walk down the road until I found something, but what would happen to my car?

            A single car zoomed past me and drove off into the night. But no sooner than I watched its tail lights disappear in the distance, the car turned around and began to drive the wrong way down the road back towards me. What the hell were they doing? As the car approached, it dropped speed until it came to a stop parallel to my VW beetle.

            The man that climbed out of the driver’s seat was very tall. His hair was died black and blue and his pants were tighter than any I owned. I sighed as he walked towards my car. He tapped on my window and looked in. “Hey, do you need any help?” he asked.

             I didn’t know if I should trust him or not. Was he actually trying to help me or was I going to be tomorrow’s news story: Girl Murdered on Free Way When Her Car Broke Down.

 I rolled my window down. What other option did I have? “Yeah, my car broke down,” I said, “the engine is a piece of crap but I was hoping it would make it to Vancouver.”

            The man smiled. “You’re going to Vancouver? I live in Vancouver, that’s where I’m going now. I can give you a ride if you want.” When he spoke, I noticed that he had a tongue piercing.

            “Uh…” I was unsure. I didn’t know this guy, I had no idea what his intentions were. He didn’t look like the people usually talked to either. But there was something in his smile that seemed genuine, and I had no other option. “Sure, I guess. If it’s not too much trouble I mean.”

            “No trouble at all,” he held out a hand to help me out of the car. I put my bags in his trunk, slid into the passenger seat, and in no time we were speeding back down the street. After a few moments, the man broke the silence.

            “So what brings you to the Couve?” He asked with another one of those genuine smiles. I couldn’t help but smile back.

            “I’m moving in to an apartment there. It’s where I’ll be staying while I go to school.”

            “So you’re not from around here?”

            “No,” I answered, “I’ve actually never been to Canada at all. I’m from Michigan.”

            “Never?!” He sounded shocked. “Well you’re going to love it. Canada’s rad!” He was so enthusiastic that I had to laugh. I couldn’t remember ever hearing anyone use the word ‘rad’ before. “What?” He asked in response to my laughter.

            “Nothing, you just sound so excited,” I said, still unable to stop smiling.

            After a few more minutes he exited the freeway and we were finally in Vancouver. It was all so big and unfamiliar. He asked me where my apartment was and I honestly had no idea. I pulled the slip of paper out of my purse that I had written the address on earlier that day and read it to him. As he continued to drive I looked around the city. It was huge! I had never seen such a big city. I felt so small in comparison; surly I would drown in a place this gigantic. Looking at the man sitting next to me in the driver’s seat I wondered how he managed to live here.

            “You live here?” I asked, “This place is huge. How do you not get lost?”

            “I’ve lived here my whole life. I don’t know, guess I’m just used to it.” How someone could ever get used to a place like this I had no idea.

            He pulled in to the driveway of my apartment building and parked. “Thank you so much for helping me,” I said as I moved to open the car door.

            “Wait,” he said, causing my hand to freeze on the handle, “I’m not just going to leave you all alone in an unfamiliar city where you don’t know anyone.” He reached for the slip of paper with the apartment building’s address on it and flipped it over. “My name’s Josh. If you need help again just give me a call.” He handed the paper back to me with his phone number written on the other side of it.

            “Wow, uh, thank you,” I said, shocked that he was being so nice. “I’m Amelie. And thanks again for driving me here.”

            “It was no problem. I actually don’t live that far from here. We can have your car towed in the morning.” He was smiling again, and this time he was looking at me.

            “Alright,” I said, reciprocating his contagious smile, “I guess I’ll see you around Vancouver then. Thanks.” I got my things out of the trunk and waved to Josh as he pulled out of the parking lot. He was definitely not my type. He was nowhere near my type. Actually he kind of scared me. But why was I so happy when I was talking to him? Why was it that when he smiled I couldn’t help but smile back? I think the thing that scared me most about him was the fact that I felt so incredibly drawn to him. I did not understand that. What was it about this strange man that intrigued me so much?