He got up his courage to actually do this, working himself into an actual need to do this. He reached for Ghost. Ghost woke to the man's rough face pressed to his, his tender lips being forced open by the man's hot tongue. He felt his jeans being pulled down. Ghost tried to wiggle upright and push the guy off him, but wasn't able to move, or hardly even breathe. The guy was heavy, and his tongue was shoved down Ghost's throat. The trucker could feel Ghost's struggles and hear his effort to cry out, but this only served to encourage him. He came up off Ghost's face and snarled,
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way, but we are going to do it."
Ghost arched his back and tried to push the man off, but it was no use. The man pinned Ghost's arms down, putting his slobbery mouth on Ghost's again. The man's other hand fumbled with both their clothes, until they were off.
Ghost had never done this with anyone but Steve - in love, and in anger - and it had been so long since the last time. In spite of the circumstances, Ghost could feel himself giving in...letting it happen, letting the need take over his body, his thoughts put on hold for the moment.
When it was over, they both were sweaty, panting for breath. The man was coming back to his senses, and now felt a little guilty and embarrassed at what he'd done. Ghost was just resigned. All he could think to himself was. "Why does everyone want to hurt me? I'm no threat to anyone. Even my best and only friend hurt me." He lay curled up as close to the truck's door as he could, his eyes squinched shut, and the tears ran down his face, as he sobbed silently, his shoulders shaking.
The trucker kept saying over and over, "My God, what did I do? I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He looked over at Ghost, and was struck at how young he looked lying there crying. ""Oh, God, he's just a kid," he thought. He had no way of knowing how old Ghost was; Ghost always looked and seemed younger than he was. "I don't even know his name. What am I gonna do now," he thought.
He reached over to pull an old blanket over Ghost's bare legs, but Ghost flinched away from the touch.
"Sorry, dude, I don't know what came over me," he said softly. "Did I hurt you...oh, God, this wasn't your first time, was it? Please forgive me, I didn't mean for it to happen. I'll make it up to you. I'll take you wherever you want to go. I'll give you however much money you want..."
Ghost didn't answer for a bit, then he whispered through his tears, "Yes, you hurt me, everyone hurts me. No, it wasn't my first time, and keep your money, I'm not a prostitute," he sobbed.
"What can I do? I need to make this up to you," the man asked. "You probably want to get out and the hell away from me, and you have every right to, but I hate to just leave you on the side of the road in the dark."
Ghost said evenly, "Just keep on drivin'."
So, the man started up the truck and pulled out onto the highway again.
As the night crept on toward dawn, the trucker kept driving. Ghost finally fell into a fitful sleep, mumbling now and then about spooks, and molasses, and Steve. Some time later, the man got a text message on his phone. It made him jump, but didn't wake Ghost. He pulled over at the next rest stop to stretch and take a leak. Then he looked again at the message. It said, "How was your little hippie? Was he any good? Are you passing him around? Me first! Hahaha."
The trucker started to smash the phone to the ground, but then called the other trucker, instead. "Dude, I actually did it," he confessed. The man on the other end started making rude noises and comments.
"Stop it! You guys shouldn't have dared me. Now, I feel awful...he's just a kid."
"Don't worry about it," the other man said. "I'm sure he's older than he looks, and has been around the block more than once. So, how was it, anyway?"
"Shut up, dude!"
"What are you gonna do now?"
"I'm still heading to L. A. to drop my load, then pick up another, head back east. The kid's gonna be on his own then."
He hung up, and continued on his way. As the sun rose, they pulled into the freight yard to unload.
The man shook Ghost awake, "Hey, we're here, end of the line. You're on your own...or I can call a buddy of mine. He'll be glad to take over for me, but I wouldn't recommend it, if you know what I mean. I'm real sorry for what happened...take care of yourself. I wish you the best." He pulled down the ladder, and went to the loading dock with his paperwork.
Ghost hadn't said a word to him. He pulled on his jeans, got his backpack and left the truck, almost falling from the ladder. He walked away from the freight yard, looking rumpled and red-eyed from crying. He didn't care...didn't care about much of anything right now. He just wanted to get away from the huge, smelly trucks, and away from truckers.
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing