Charley

On they drove. Holly’s car, Hannah soon learned, had broken down a few miles back; she would need a ride to the nearest town. They forced polite chatter until finally enough had been said to allow a strained silence. Holly leaned back against the headrest and hung her hand out the open window. Despite the awkwardness of a stranger beside her, Hannah still felt thrilled to finally be on her way. Every mile seemed to bring some new, beautiful thing her way, and she felt that she could barely breathe for the enormity of all that was in front of her.

Finally they pulled off the highway into a little abandoned town. As Hannah stopped in front of what appeared to be a barn turned gift shop, a black poodle bounded across the yard.

“Oh, look at that dog. Have you ever seen such a dog?”

“He looks like Charley.”

“Like who?”

Hannah blushed. How could she explain that she had meant the dog of a long-dead author she had read in her childhood? Who was the crazy one then? “Nevermind.”

Eighth grade English had ended with a field trip to the National Steinbeck Center. Hannah remembered the noisy bus ride, everyone shouting and eager to have a day off from school. She had been excited as well. In an otherwise middling school year, Steinbeck’s novels had been her one salvation. She had read beyond the assigned Of Mice & Men and The Red Pony, devouring East of Eden, Cannery Row, and Travels With Charley. They were to each write a letter to the author while they were at the museum.

Dear Mr. Steinbeck, she had started, but never finished. What could she say? I’d like to shape words like you, but I’ll never be able to. How do you notice the little things and capture them so perfectly?

I have stories to tell, too --, she had begun to write defensively; luckily, a fight had broken out between two of the boys, and her teacher had shuffled them quickly out of the museum, letters forgotten in the ensuing confusion. Hannah wondered now what had happened to their notes. The assignment she had so struggled with, busywork turned confession, had probably been tossed by an annoyed custodian at the end of the day.