Written August 7, 2018

The innumerable stalks of wheat stretched far out, ceasing their span only at the horizon line. Even then the golden sea continued into the sky, melding with pinks, purples and fiery oranges. The edges of the towering clouds were seared by the touch of the setting sun.

It was for images such as these that Troy lived. It was for the sweet aromas carried by the gentle breeze and the feeling of utter tranquility. And it was not until his first experiences like these that he actually learned to see and appreciate the earth for all the majesty and beauty that it had to offer.

In a life that to Troy now seemed far away, he had been a much different man. He had been blind. Not in the literal sense, but in a sense that was much worse. He was blind to life. Or rather the true meaning of life. He used to lead a life of insubstantiality, of meaninglessness. Now he led a life without any belongings. But a life that meant something. To him, at least. And that was all that mattered.

He was standing at the edge of the highway, his leather boots just touching the asphalt, which was turning a gray-gold with the light of the sun.

The sound of a pickup truck engine broke the evening silence. Troy raised his right hand, extending his thumb in the same direction. Hitchhiking was the method which allowed him to break free from the rat race. Most of the time, however, cars drove right past him.

As if the people in them had as much soul as the vehicles they’re driving, he thought. But part of him understood. People were not the same as they used to be. They were deceiving and malicious. Besides, not many people hitchhiked anymore, and those who did most likely had the wrong intentions. Troy did not have those types of intentions, however.

He did not expect this pickup truck to be an exception, but was very surprised when it did stop. He found himself wondering that perhaps hitchhikers were not the only ones with vindictive aims in mind, but soon dismissed the thought as cynicism.

The driver of the truck was an elderly man. Simply by glancing at his facial features and sitting position, Troy could determine the person he was. Especially by looking at his eyes. His eyes were kind, but not naïve. They had seen enough not to be. The kindness in them told Troy that the man believed in hope.

The man lowered the passenger seat window. “Hop in.” His voice was resilient.

“Thank you,” Troy said, opening the door once it was unlocked.

“Where to? I might not be able to get you all the way, but I’ll try.”

“Just to the nearest town. If that’s too far, you can drop me off as close as you please.”

“No, no. I’ll drive you all the way.”

“Thanks,” Troy repeated.

They drove a short distance in silence. Troy gazed out the window, skimming the expanse of golden fields with his eyes. The sun slowly lowered in the distance. Though the man had kept his eyes concentrated on the road, Troy felt that he was studying him.

“It’s about thirty miles or so straight up this way.”

“Thank you for your trouble. I know it’s difficult to trust strangers these days.”

The comment was meant to be a formality, but the old man seemed to be choosing his words carefully to respond.

“That’s true. But I have nothing anybody would want to steal. At least in this truck. Everything that I hold valuable is right here,” he tapped his chest with a stubby index finger, “And here,” he did the same to his forehead. He paused before adding, “I think that’s probably the same for you.”

“You’d be right,” Troy answered, though he knew the old man was not asking him.

There was another span of silence.

“Did you choose?”

The question didn’t seem to correlate to anything. It floated there, between Troy and the old man. “Choose what?” Troy asked.

The man gestured towards his passenger without looking at him. “This life. Did you choose it?”

Troy answered immediately. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Troy shrugged. “To escape from the rat race. To live. You know what I mean?” He turned to the old man. 

He nodded knowingly. “That’s good. It’s good for a young man to be so sure of himself and what he wants out of life.” He paused, this time as if he was deciding whether to share the information he wanted to share. Finally, he said, “I never had that kind of courage. I’m sorry for that.”

Troy looked at the old man. He looked deeply into him. It was his turn to choose his words carefully. “It was a decision, like any other.”

“Even so,” replied the old man. He sighed, then smiled. “I like you. What’s your name?”

“Troy Vader. Yours?”

“Tuck. Tuck Finley.”

Tuck reached over, maintaining a steady gaze on the road, and the two men shook hands. They both basked in the reality of the moment. The raw experience of talking and taking a liking to an utter stranger.

“Sometimes it’s better than talking to someone you know. Because it’s real. Because it’s raw and untampered,” thought Troy.

He watched the very tip of the orange sun dip below the horizon. The light was dimmer now, allowing the moon to reign over its kingdom, the chaos of the night. Stars were beginning to peak through the opaque curtain of wispy clouds. 

They drove a few miles in silence before Tuck spoke. “It hasn’t been bad, though.” A pause. “Life, I mean.”

“That’s always good.”

Tuck laughed heartily. “Yeah, that’s always good.” Then he frowned, pondering something. “Do you travel a lot?”

Troy inhaled deeply and shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat. “I travel enough to see all different kinds of people.”

“Do you hitchhike a lot?”

“When I can.”

“What made you want to escape from the rat race?”

“I was trying to find something that I wouldn’t get from working nine hours a day in a box all my life.”

Tuck looked at Troy for the first time. It was a long brooding stare. “Are you sure it was the rat race that was the problem?” The question was not meant to be judgmental. His voice was kind. He was just a man asking another man a question.

Troy stared back. “You know, it probably wasn’t the rat race. Some people are happy living like that. It was probably me that was the problem.” He broke the stare and looked at the road. “Either way, I still wasn’t happy.

That’s all that mattered when I made my decision.”

“So you dropped everything and left?”

“Pretty much.”

“With nothing but the clothes on your back. Huh. Some choice.” Tuck reached up and scratched his neck. “I, on the other hand, chose to stay right where I was, doing ‘like my daddy done,’ as the song goes.”

“That’s a choice, too.”

“It sure was. And, you know, I don’t regret it.” His brow wrinkled. “Doesn’t stop you from wondering, though. Ah, well. My advice to you, young man, is to make a choice and, whatever you do, don’t regret it. Run with it. Commit to it. Life’s too short to do anything else.” His expression cleared and he smiled. “Can you imagine if each time we ever made a bad choice, we regretted it? Ha!” He laughed, “We’d end up wishing we were never born! And that’s what the pot boils down to. You’ve just got to make the best of what you’ve got. That’s why you make choices. To make the best of what you’ve got.”

Troy replied after a short pause. “My pop always said that choices were like splits in the road. They’re the same because you’ve got to choose, no matter what. The difference between them is that with choices you can’t turn back.”

“Well, your pop was a very wise man.”

“Make order from chaos, that’s all you can try to do. That’s what he always said.”

“Whether it’s with the world, your life, or your house.”

Troy nodded reflectively.

The two men drove in silence the rest of the way. They had said all that needed to be said.

When they arrived at the outskirts of the nearest town, Tuck dropped Troy off at a small inn. Before he had gotten out of the car, Tuck took Troy’s arm and looked into his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter that I’ll never see you again, ’cause I’m sure glad I made the choice to pull over for you, and that you made the choice to be a hitchhiker. Good luck to you, Troy Vader.”

“I’ll always remember your advice.”

At this, Tuck Finley smiled, a sparkle in his kind wise eyes.

Troy stood there in front of the inn until the pickup truck disappeared down the seemingly endless highway, dissolving into the distance along with the fields of gold under the darkening sky.

In the Midst of Chaos © Safira Schiowitz