ROOKIES

People Never Change

DOC

I woke up to an empty bed. It didn't sadden me or make me feel less loved, I knew the kind of man my husband was and I knew that, sometimes, his duties called him out (By that I mean out of his house and onto the streets, not- I mean he'd done it in that way a few times too. Sometimes the people of this town called him, like 'Sheriff. We need you out?' And he'd been so full of coffee and donuts, he'd said, 'I'm gay and in love with The Hudson Hornet. The town was used to it now.)

Anyways, I pulled myself out of bed, turned on the radio and, with gentle music playing in my ear, sat down and drunk whisky alone. It was raining outside and I welcomed the quiet. That was when I heard it. This towns people, my family, were shouting about something. I heard a few of the voices, "Yes. Amazing!", Sal and "It's a like it was paved by angels," Luigo. There was a knock on my door and I tossed the rest of my drink down my throat, grabbed my jacket and ran a hand through my hair before heeding to it's call. Sally stood there. She looked smart in a blue suit, darker than normal.

"Doc, look at this," Turning aside, she pointed out the road that run just outside my door, "Shoulda tossed him into the cactus a lot sooner, huh?" I was still groggy, still bitter, so all I said was this, "Well, he ain't finished yet. Still got a long way to go." Regardless, I walked out of my house and took a closer look. No matter how much I hated that punk I couldn't deny it, the road was smooth and it was clean, "That punk actually did a good job." I whistled, if only to myself. Dragging a hand through my hair, I turned around, "Well, now," I said.

"Where the heck is he?"

DOC

I found him with Sheriff- no, not in that buddy buddy chum chum way but in the way in which Sheriff was looking over him, guarding him, whilst he tried to perfect the track I had beaten him on not so long ago. Sheriff didn't notice when I approach. His eyes, red, and his clothes dirty I knew he was tired.

"Sheriff!" I call. Sheriff turned around, at first as if excited to see me there, then, smug. His eyes seemed to say, 'Huh I got here before you. Slow.' To which I flashed back an expression that stood for, 'Some of us need our beauty sleep. These good looks don't come for free.'

"Is he makin' another run for it?" I asked. Sheriff shock his head, "No, no. He ran out of asphalt in the middle of the night, asked me if he could come down here. All he's trryna do is make that their turn."

Monty's music, sweet music, broke through our intimate(?) conversation, "No. Perfect turn I've ever raced on." I stared out at him. He was trying, really, trying, but this wasn't an ordinary road. Not a road like the city race cars rode on which meant new tricks, new skills and a whole new technique. I could help him with that, not because I cared, but because, unlike him I wasn't a belligerent ass. And maybe because seeing him there reminded me a little bit of my younger self (not that I was ready in any shape or form to have that conversation).

"Sheriff," I said, "Why don't you get yourself a drink at Flos? I'll keep an eye on him." Sheriff, still weary and tired, stood on the tips of his toes then kissed me lightly on my cheek, "Well, thanks, Doc," He whispered, "I've been feelin' a quarter low." I watched him go, still smiling because, God, walking away with a skip in his step and a smile on his face, my husband was so cute. Because I had him I didn't want or need anything else, I was content just with that.

Making my way down the hill towards Monty, I realised two things: The first was that I wasn't wearing near the right clothes for this. The second that they were the only clothes I had. Why did Sheriff not stop me from only buying navy and black suits? It was really getting me in a pickle. What if I had too do some guardianing someday.

The racecar stared at me. He sat in his car, bruised hands clutched the steering wheel. His racing jacket was half torn and there was a scar running from the eyebrow above his right eye down across his cheek. I turned to face him. Neater in comparison, tidy with my slick black hair and suit.

I stood there, waiting for him and when he didn't notice, opened the door and stared at him. He stared back.

"This ain't asphalt, son." I said, "This is dirt." The delinquent road hazard scowled, pushing my hand away, he got out of the car. He was even more a wreck close up than I thought he would be. The red of his jacket had even started to fade a little in places.

"Oh, great." He said startisically, rolling his head as he rolled his eyes as if to put more emphasis on the 'roll,' part (I have to give it to him. It worked), "What do you want? Are you here to gloat?"

And, I could have, I could have just sat there and began to show off, to tell him how great I was, had been, but that wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to help him, "You don't have three-wheel brakes," I said, "So you got to pitch it hard, break it loose and then just drive it with the throttle. Give it too much, you'll be outta the dirt and into the tulips." If he had known who he really was he might have payed good money for that piece of advice but he didn't so he merely laughed. He thought that I being the judge of the town, the doctor and Sheriff's husband (okay so he didn't actually add in the husband bit but he should have. Everybody in this town knew that that was actually my main proffesion), couldn't possibly know a single thing about racing and said so.

"Look." I said, playing with the cuffs of my suit. Why did I ever think he would take my help? "I'll put it simple. If you goin' hard enough left, you'll find yourself turnin' right," Monty's reaction sculpted him perfectly to the term 'delinquent road hazard,' along with the other insults Sheriff and I had used to describe him, "Ooo, right. That makes perfect sense. Turn right to go left. Yes! Thank you! Or should I say,"No thank you"? Because in Opposite World, maybe that really means, "Thank you"! Crazy grandpa car. What an idiot!" I scoffed as I turned to walk away, shaking my head.

Before I left for good I heard him hop in his car again, slam the door, turn on his engine and then he poetically drove... Straight off the cliff and landed in a cactus.

Huh, I thought, what do you know. People never change.