nonfiction

 The Mckenzie Drive

I shut my door hard as I start my truck. The engine of my 1989 Toyota truck rumbles. I look behind me, to back into the street, but I am quickly reminded that the bed of my truck is completely filled with camping gear. I smile and begin to play music. I select, Pacific Northwest ‘73 – ‘74: Believe It If You Need It by The Grateful Dead. “Wake now discover that you are the song that the mornin’ brings, but the heart has its seasons, it’s evenin’s and songs of its own.” Blares from my speakers as I rumble down the Mckenzie highway, close behind my best friend.

Forty-five miles up the Mckenzie highway we decide to stop at Koosah Falls. It’s late June and Koosah Falls is a commonplace among tourists, so I expect there to be quite a few people. We head up a small trail that leads to the top of the waterfall. The sun shines through the trees creating a unique glow throughout the falls. People are sprawled out around the falls, but it’s so beautiful that the crying baby and the stressed-out mom yelling at her kids don’t bother me. The warm sunny afternoon suddenly turns windy. Large droplets of rain begin to fall, I watch them slowly become apart of the waterfall. I smile as the sun peers through a crack in the clouds. “Only in Oregon,” I think to myself.

“Let’s hit the road before we get to wet!” yells my friend Uriah. We all look at each other and agree in unison. The rain slowly falls down my cold skin.

As we drive in search of a campsite, the rain gets harder and the clouds get darker. Heavy rain hits my windshield testing my outdated windshield wipers. I fly down the highway with low visibility. Usually, I’d feel uneasy about this situation, but a sense of confidence looms over me. A sign for Paradise campground catches my eye.

“Should we stop?” I ask

“Might as well” responds my friend Travis. I pull in and slowly drive around the gravel road. I drive a full loop around the campsite only to see tents, and California license plates. In denial, I take another loop around the campsite, but there are still no open sites. The rest of my friends are waiting just outside the campground. When I find them I let them know there are no available spots. We decide to visit Belknap hot springs in hope of discovering an open campground. An employee at the front desk informs us of an RV and tent campground just up the road.

“Won’t hurt to try?” I tell them.

After driving for about fifteen minutes we see a big white sign that says, RV Park and Camping hesitantly we pull in. I drive around the campground searching for an open spot. All I can see is large Ford pickup trucks, and pop up tents. I begin to notice the strange looks that we are receiving as we maneuver throughout the camp, “What’s the issue?” I think to myself. We continue on with no luck. As we begin to leave I see a side road towards the back of the campground.

“Let’s see what’s back there!” I tell the others. I drive through branches and over rocks in hope of finding some sort of a reliable area. The branches suddenly clear as I see a large opening. I see Levels of smooth rock under a large oak tree providing a perfect camp spot. I quickly jump out of my truck and yell, “yes!” My mind is filled with clarity and excitement, I yell out to the others,

“This is it! This is the one!” They all jump out of the car and begin to unpack the gear. As we begin to set up camp I hear a loud motor. I look up to see two large men riding on a four-wheeler. “Hello” I say

“What do you think yall are doing?” One of the men responds.

“Just setting up camp for the night, is that alright?” I ask. I look to see a pistol on both of the mens waistbands. A strange feeling begins in my stomach. The men gaze upon me and my friends. I watch them as their eyes fall on my friend Liam. Liam is a tall African American with big brown eyes, and a patchy beard.

With hesitation one of the men says, “well I don’t think that’ll be happening.” Instantly my face turns red, and my fists tighten.

“Why’s that?” I ask.

“Well, the camps all full” They both exclaim. I look over at my friends to see there red faces. They seem confused. Everyone is silent as the two men ride away. We look at one another, and I say “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” We pack up all the camping gear and throw it in the bed of my truck. Without saying a word to Travis I begin to drive down the back road. When I reach the entrance of the campground I sit in my truck silently waiting for the others. My friends car pulls up behind me. Two different men emerge from a nearby tent, both with guns on their waistband. They approach my window, so I roll it down slowly.

“Can I help you?” I say

“Yes we need y’all to leave” I look down to see the man’s left hand on the pistol. I look at him and begin to roll up my window. My mind is spinning as I think of ways to handle this feeling. I turn the truck on, and push in the clutch. “Fuck it” I say. I leave my foot on the clutch and shift the transmission into first. I slam on the gas leaving the clutch in. My truck roars and the tires begin to spin. The gravel underneath creates a large cloud of smoke behind me I release the clutch and fly forward. Three gunshots follow as I gas it. I hit the road with my foot still on the gas. I grab the steering wheel with one hand and look at my arm. The vein in my arm angrily convulses. My mind goes blank.

 

Trials Of Forgiveness

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock. Confused and irritated I roll over and slap it off of my nightstand. I roll onto my back and lay as the day’s first thoughts begin to pour into my head. This is the worst part of the day. My thoughts don’t scare me, but they have yet to comfort me. I stand up to grab a cup of coffee, and head outside. I stand barefoot in the cold damp grass, as the warm coffee begins to engulf my body. Suddenly, bright headlights reflect off the morning fog, and I feel my heart drop. The car comes to a stop, and I wonder if he’ll have anyone with him. Alone, my father Jack steps out of the car and angrily heads for the house. We completely ignore one another, so I lace up my boots, throw on my favorite hoodie, and head down the hill. I walk through the morning’s dense fog, small water particles bounce off my face. I get to the beach and take my boots off. I let the sand softly move in between my toes. I look around, I am alone, I usually am.

I live on the Oregon coast in the little town of Gold Beach. Gold Beach is often filled with tourists, which provides an awkward buzz within the town. I live on a hill just North of town, excluded from most everything. I have lived here all my life, and have no desire to leave. I love how the dense morning fog hovers over the town until late in the afternoon. I love how rainy days turns into rainy weeks, and eventually rainy months. I love the soft sunsets that lay over the water after each summer day. I love the feeling of cold wet sand falling in between my toes. As a kid, I remember feeling a similar connection with this area. I remember how it made me feel a sense of comfort. It made me feel as if I get through anything, as long as I had a relationship with my home. As a kid, I  remember running away. Not away from home, but away from my father. Running away into cold dark nights, running until my feet hit the sand. Running until I knew I would be okay. Now, instead of running I’m searching.

My eyes open quickly, as I look up and stare blankly at the ceiling above. A second loud crash comes from the kitchen, screaming follows. I get up to reach for my duffle bag under my bed, and head for the door. My duffle bag contains, four changes of clothes, a small cooking oven, a sleeping bag, and a lantern. My mind is blank but my eyes are damp. Tears slowly begin down my face as I walk. “I’m not scared,” I think to myself, but I’m tired. I’m tired of being used to this, I’m tired of running. I finally reach the beach and lay my duffle bag on the ground. I pull the lantern out, turn it on, and continue to walk. Shortly after,  I see a handmade wooden shelter. I walk up to it and look inside. In the top right corner is the name, “RYE” signed “Spring 2009.” I smile and lay my sleeping bag down.

The cold damp morning awakens me. I reach for my bag and grab my large raincoat. I roll out of the shelter, and head for the water. I sit at the water’s edge for hours and just stare. I stare into the cloudy abyss and try to convince myself of what i’m searching for. At this point, all I can hear are the trees swaying in the soft winds, and the constant crash of the waves. As I stare off I can’t help but notice something feels different. It’s not the fog, or the flock of seagulls, or the fishermen on the wharf. Something inside me feels different, different than when I routinely stay on the beach and look out amongst the waves. I stand up and head South down the beach. As I walk I spot a bright blue object out of the corner of my eye. It seems to be a tarp connected to both a tree and a large rock. As I look closer it seems as if the tarp is acting as a roof. Hesitant at first, I begin toward the shelter.

As I get closer, the smell of burning firewood and warm tea beckon me from the shelter. I don’t want to intrude, so I stand about ten feet away and gently holler. Shortly after, the entrance of the shelter flies open. On the other side stands a short dark woman, with long frazzled hair, and bright blue eyes. She’s wearing a large coat, torn blue jeans, and excessively large hiking boots.

“Well hi there,” she says, “what’s your name?”

“Rye,” I say, “what’s yours?” The feeling in my stomach begins to maneuver throughout my entire body. She looks about my age, perhaps a year or two older.

“Hi Rye,” she says, “my names Luna.” she smiles, and says, “would you like to come in It’s a bit warmer than it is out there.”

“Yes, thank you!” I smile and follow her underneath the tarp. We sit down and I comfortably lay back in the chair.

“So,” She says “What’re you doing  with a duffle bag in the middle of winter, on the Oregon Coast?”
I laugh and say, “Well I live here.” she looks at me, and I can feel that she is comforted by me as well. She looks at me like she’s reading a book, a book that she’s read hundreds of times. “If you live here, then why the hell are you sleeping on the beach in the middle of winter?” she exclaims.

“Because it’s my best option,” I say. As we sit I begin to tell her about my father. I tell her how we hardly talk, and when we do it’s anything but positive. Throughout the entire conversation Luna looks at me as if she knows what i’m going to say, before I say it. It seems like she has always been there, always apart of me.

She looks at me and say’s “Rye, how do you feel?” “Do you feel a sense of comfort”

My body is warm, and for the first time my mind feels free. I lay and listen to my heartbeat. I close my eyes and let my body begin to float. I lay still as all of my thoughts begin to fade. Luna’s voice reappears.

“Rye” she says, “you have two choices.” “You can let your mind go, and travel to a place of pure happiness. Or you can remain, and find happiness.”

My mind begins to spin, memories of me and dad at a young age flow through my mind. The small moments that I’ve had, make me realize that happiness is possible. In fact happiness is right there, right in front of me. So close I can touch it, I reach out as far as I can reach.

“Goodbye Rye.” Luna says softly, “goodbye.”

Loud beeping enters my mind. I cannot see, but I can hear loud yelling and commotion coming from all around me. A constant beeping replays in my mind. I open my eyes and stare blankly at the bright blue ceiling above. Long clear tubes are attached to my forearms and chest. I look up and see my father. Tears are rolling down his face, he  walks over and begins to hold me, his embrace is warm. I cannot help but smile.