{"id":3104,"date":"2015-12-23T00:54:40","date_gmt":"2015-12-23T06:54:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/?p=3104"},"modified":"2025-03-15T14:29:42","modified_gmt":"2025-03-15T19:29:42","slug":"rusty-and-flo","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/","title":{"rendered":"Rusty and Flo"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"home-display-none\"><div id=\"kgvid_kgvid_0_wrapper\" class=\"kgvid_wrapper\">\n\t\t\t<div id=\"video_kgvid_0_div\" class=\"fitvidsignore kgvid_videodiv\" data-id=\"kgvid_0\" data-kgvid_video_vars=\"{&quot;id&quot;:&quot;kgvid_0&quot;,&quot;attachment_id&quot;:3108,&quot;player_type&quot;:&quot;Video.js v8&quot;,&quot;width&quot;:&quot;960&quot;,&quot;height&quot;:&quot;540&quot;,&quot;fullwidth&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;fixed_aspect&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;countable&quot;:true,&quot;count_views&quot;:&quot;quarters&quot;,&quot;start&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;autoplay&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;pauseothervideos&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;set_volume&quot;:&quot;1&quot;,&quot;muted&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;meta&quot;:true,&quot;endofvideooverlay&quot;:&quot;https:\\\/\\\/faithhopeandfiction.com\\\/content\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2015\\\/12\\\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540_thumb36.jpg&quot;,&quot;resize&quot;:&quot;true&quot;,&quot;auto_res&quot;:&quot;automatic&quot;,&quot;pixel_ratio&quot;:&quot;true&quot;,&quot;right_click&quot;:&quot;on&quot;,&quot;playback_rate&quot;:&quot;false&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;Rusty and Flo | Short Story Movie Trailer&quot;,&quot;skip_buttons&quot;:[],&quot;nativecontrolsfortouch&quot;:&quot;true&quot;,&quot;locale&quot;:&quot;en&quot;,&quot;enable_resolutions_plugin&quot;:false}\" itemprop=\"video\" itemscope itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/VideoObject\"><meta itemprop=\"thumbnailUrl\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540_thumb36.jpg\"><meta itemprop=\"embedUrl\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?attachment_id=3108&#038;videopack%5Benable%5D=true\"><meta itemprop=\"contentUrl\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540.mp4\"><meta itemprop=\"name\" content=\"Rusty and Flo | Short Story Movie Trailer\"><meta itemprop=\"description\" content=\"Rusty and Flo | Short Story Movie Trailer\"><meta itemprop=\"uploadDate\" content=\"2015-12-18T17:37:02-06:00\">\n\t\t\t\t<video id=\"video_kgvid_0\" playsinline controls preload=\"auto\" poster=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540_thumb36.jpg\" width=\"960\" height=\"540\" class=\"fitvidsignore video-js kg-video-js-skin\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<source src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540.mp4?id=0\" type=\"video\/mp4\" data-res=\"540p\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<source src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540.webm?id=0\" type=\"video\/webm\" data-res=\"WEBM VP8\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<source src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540.ogv?id=0\" type=\"video\/ogg\" data-res=\"OGV\">\n\t\t\t\t<\/video>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<div class=\"kgvid_below_video\" id=\"video_kgvid_0_below\"><div class=\"kgvid-viewcount\" id=\"video_kgvid_0_viewcount\">147 views<\/div><div class=\"kgvid-caption\" id=\"video_kgvid_0_caption\">Rusty and Flo | Short Story Movie Trailer<\/div><\/div>\t\t\t<div style=\"display:none\" id=\"video_kgvid_0_meta\" class=\"kgvid_video_meta kgvid_video_meta_hover kgvid_no_title_meta\">\n\t\t\t\t<span class='kgvid_meta_icons'>\t\t\t\t<span id='kgvid_kgvid_0_shareicon' class='vjs-icon-share' onclick='kgvid_share_icon_click(\"kgvid_0\");'><\/span>\n\t\t\t\t<div id='click_trap_kgvid_0' class='kgvid_click_trap'><\/div><div id='video_kgvid_0_embed' class='kgvid_share_container kgvid_no_title_meta'><div class='kgvid_share_icons'><span class='kgvid_embedcode_container'><span class='kgvid-icons kgvid-icon-embed'><\/span>\n\t\t\t\t\t<span>Embed: <\/span><span><input class='kgvid_embedcode' type='text' value='&lt;iframe src=&#039;https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?attachment_id=3108&amp;videopack[enable]=true&#039; frameborder=&#039;0&#039; scrolling=&#039;no&#039; width=&#039;960&#039; height=&#039;540 allowfullscreen allow=&#039;autoplay; fullscreen&#039;&gt;&lt;\/iframe&gt;' onClick='this.select();'><\/span> <span class='kgvid_start_time'><input type='checkbox' class='kgvid_start_at_enable' onclick='kgvid_set_start_at(\"kgvid_0\")'> Start at: <input type='text' class='kgvid_start_at' onkeyup='kgvid_change_start_at(\"kgvid_0\")'><\/span><\/span><div class='kgvid_social_icons'><a title='Share on Twitter' href='https:\/\/twitter.com\/share?text=false&#038;url=https%3A%2F%2Ffaithhopeandfiction.com%2Fcontent%2Frusty-and-flo%2Frusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540%2F&amp;via=TrishCrisafulli' onclick='window.open(this.href, \"\", \"menubar=no,toolbar=no,resizable=yes,scrollbars=yes,height=260,width=600\");return false;'><span class='vjs-icon-twitter'><\/span><\/a>&nbsp;<a title='Share on Facebook' href='https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/sharer\/sharer.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Ffaithhopeandfiction.com%2Fcontent%2Frusty-and-flo%2Frusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540%2F' onclick='window.open(this.href, \"\", \"menubar=no,toolbar=no,resizable=yes,scrollbars=yes,height=260,width=600\");return false;'><span class='vjs-icon-facebook'><\/span><\/a><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<a class=\"kgvid-download-link\" href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/12\/rusty_and_flo_short_story_movie_trailer_960x540.mp4\" title=\"Click to download\" download data-alt_link=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?attachment_id=3108&amp;videopack&#091;download&#093;=true\"><span class=\"kgvid-icons kgvid-icon-download\"><\/span><\/a><\/span><\/div>\n<div style=\"display:none\" id='video_kgvid_0_watermark' class='kgvid_watermark'><a target='_parent' href='https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content'><img src='https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/faith-hope-and-fiction_white-watermark.png' alt='watermark'><\/a><\/div>\t\t<\/div><\/div>\n<div class=\"post-display-none\"><div class=\"hdivider hr-double hr-long\"><\/div><\/div>\n<h2 class=\"leader\" style=\"line-height: 1em;\"><a href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/?p=3104\">Patricia Crisafulli<\/a><\/h2>\n<h4 class=\"trailer\" style=\"line-height: 1.66em;\">Original Fiction<\/h4>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<div class=\"text-indent-first\">\n<p><span class=\"dropcap dp-circle\" style=\"color:#ffffff; background-color:#444444\">T<\/span> wo hitchhikers waited by the side of a country road. They\u2019d walked a half-mile from the farm where they\u2019d been staying since late summer, through all the fruit crops and into the cider pressing. But now the ground was bare, as were the trees in this stretch of woods. It was mid-December 1970, and a long mild autumn was coming to a dramatic end.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"text-indent\">\n<p>One of the hitchhikers, a young man in a dark coat and a pulldown hat, stationed himself at the side of the pavement. He warmed his bare hands with his breath, then stuck out his thumb as a car approached. It passed them without slowing.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cWe\u2019ll have better luck next time, Flo,\u201d he said to the second hitchhiker\u2014a woman, sitting on a battered suitcase, a carpetbag at her feet.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNext one for sure, Rusty,\u201d she agreed, and pulled a man\u2019s suit jacket more tightly around her thin body. Dark glasses hid her eyes.<\/p>\n<p>Rusty would have preferred to walk the two miles to the main road, but the suitcases were heavy and Flo needed to hold his arm.<\/p>\n<p>As they waited, the temperature dropped a few more degrees. Clouds that had bulked up over a gray and choppy Lake Ontario released their moisture, falling first as rain, then mixing with snow. The large, wet flakes stung like a cold slap against Rusty\u2019s face and the back of his neck. Flo curled herself inward, as if being pelted by rocks.<\/p>\n<p>Seeing her like that, Rusty planted himself in the middle of the road to flag down the next car. He\u2019d risk his neck if it meant getting Flo a ride as soon as possible.<\/p>\n<p>A manic lake-effect flurry veiled him suddenly, and Rusty couldn\u2019t help but grin at the swirling flakes. \u201cLike one of them snow globes, Flo\u2014you know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI remember.\u201d Flo rocked back and forth atop the suitcase, then stopped. \u201cCar!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The constant ringing in his ears blocked out much of the sounds around him, but Rusty never doubted Flo\u2019s hearing. He started waving his arms over his head, even before the car came in sight.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"flourish wp-image-996 size-full alignnone\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/double-flourish-content.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"88\" height=\"31\" \/><\/p>\n<p>Inside the oncoming car, the driver watched the wet snow pile up on the edges of the windshield until a frosted pillar rose like Lot\u2019s wife at the margins of the glass. He should have replaced the wiper blades the last time he got the oil changed, but thought he could coax a little more life out of the old ones. Now he needed to pull over and scrape off the snow.<\/p>\n<p>The driver contemplated where to find an even patch of ground along this road he drove six days a week to pick up the afternoon newspaper in town and a seventh one to take himself and his wife to church. He thought of a place up ahead where the shoulder widened and he wouldn\u2019t lose his balance navigating around the hood to clear both sides.<\/p>\n<p>Focused on that accumulating snow, he didn\u2019t see the hitchhiker. He only heard a shout and slammed on the brakes with more force than he\u2019d felt in his right leg in quite a while. The car fishtailed to a stop.<\/p>\n<p>The passenger door flew open. \u201cWhat the hell\u2019s wrong with you, man? You almost killed me.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Hearing that voice, the driver exhaled. He hadn\u2019t hit anyone. \u201cThe windshield.\u201d He pointed to the clogged glass. \u201cI couldn\u2019t see you.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They got a look at each other then. The driver was an old man, about seventy, with short gray hair and a green-and-black plaid wool cap on the back of his head. The hitchhiker was in his twenties, thin and wiry. His face was round and ruddy, with blunt features. From under his pulldown cap a few strands of reddish hair escaped.<\/p>\n<p>The driver\u2019s mouth slacked open. \u201cGabe\u2014\u201d A name he hadn\u2019t said it aloud in years caught in his throat, though the man associated with it was never far from his mind.<\/p>\n<p>The hitchhiker stuck out his hand. \u201cNice to meet you, Gabe. I\u2019m Clarence, but everybody calls me Rusty. How about giving us a ride?\u201d<br \/>\n\u201cMy name\u2019s John\u2014John Lange. I thought you were\u2014. Sure, get in.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Rusty disappeared and came back with someone. John noticed the cloche hat that hid her face, the mismatched clothes\u2014jacket too large and a long skirt too thin to keep out the wind. The dark glasses, though, made him wonder the most.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThis is Florence\u2014Flo.\u201d Rusty settled her on the back seat. \u201cShe\u2019s blind.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPleasure, ma\u2019am,\u201d John said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThank you for the ride. Soon as I heard your car comin\u2019, I knew you\u2019d be the one to stop.\u201d Flo\u2019s voice was surprisingly husky for such a small woman. John wondered if she was older than she looked.<\/p>\n<p>Rusty appeared at the driver\u2019s window. \u201cPop the trunk, will ya? Got a couple of suitcases and they\u2019re kinda wet.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>In the rearview mirror, John watched Flo feel around her surroundings. Her hands touched the pair of long metal canes with arm clamps resting against the back seat.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cPush \u2018em out of the way,\u201d John said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo need,\u201d Flo replied. \u201cJust wanted to know what was back here.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The trunk slammed and a moment later Rusty was leaning over the hood, clearing the windshield with his bare hands and a swipe of his jacket sleeve. He did it the right way, John noticed, pulling up the wipers and running his fingers along the blades to melt the hunks of ice that had formed. Then the front passenger door opened and Rusty was inside.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLook in that glove box.\u201d John pointed to the lower dash by Rusty\u2019s lap. \u201cThere\u2019s a pair of work gloves in there.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Rusty opened the compartment. His eyes swept once around the interior. \u201cNice car. Is it new?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s a \u201968\u2014two years old. But I don\u2019t drive it much. When I got it, the salesman couldn\u2019t believe it, on account of my canes. Told him FDR drove with hand controls, and I\u2019d do the same if it came to that.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLast car I had was a \u201962 Impala. Gave it to my buddy when I was drafted. He wrecked it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John looked over at Rusty. \u201cYou were in the Army?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYup. Did my tour in \u2018Nam.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John fought the urge to stare at that face, as if five decades had peeled away and it was Gabe sitting next to him now. \u201cI was in the Great War\u2014France. Went over in \u201915 and came home in \u201918.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cLong time ago,\u201d Rusty said. \u201cBut war is war, I \u2018spose.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John nodded, then put the car in drive and eased it onto the pavement. \u201cWhere you two headed?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cFlorida,\u201d Rusty told him. \u201cGotta get Flo someplace warm.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"flourish wp-image-996 size-full alignnone\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/double-flourish-content.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"88\" height=\"31\" \/><\/p>\n<p>As he rode up front next to John, Rusty recalled the last winter he\u2019d spent in Ohio doing factory work, which he hated. Then he\u2019d headed south, catching the first of the crop work in the late spring, and followed it north. In Maryland, he\u2019d gotten a job with a carnival, setting up and tearing down the rides, fixing the ones that broke. It was hard work, but gave him a place to sleep every night and a couple of square meals a day.<\/p>\n<p>He soon learned that town girls were trouble: the fast ones who thought they were something, and the rest that were only teases. He hadn\u2019t paid attention at first to Flo who worked the ticket booth, her fingers flying down the long strips and making change from the shape and size of coins. When she got a bill, she\u2019d ask the customer what it was. By the sound of the voice, Flo knew whether to double-check with her co-worker if she really held a sawbuck or only a fin.<\/p>\n<p>Once he got to know Flo, it didn\u2019t matter to him that she was older\u201434 to his 25. And he didn\u2019t care that she was blind. What impressed him was how much she noticed: a shift in the wind and the scent it carried; how far off a sound was and coming from what direction. She noticed things about him, too\u2014like how he was almost always where he was supposed to be. <em>Dependable<\/em>. <em>Like clockwork. <\/em>First time in his life somebody said something nice about him without a punchline to follow.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Being a carney was a little like being a soldier.<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>He\u2019d become disciplined in the Army, and might have stayed in, except the ringing in his ears got so bad\u2014too much artillery fire, they said. Being a carney was a little like being a soldier, as least for him. Boss told them when to move out, when to set up. He liked that about the work; the routine made sure he was where he was supposed to be, instead of on his own and getting into trouble.<\/p>\n<p>Then one day, he noticed Flo\u2019s hair was dull and her wrists whittled to sticks. A doctor in Syracuse said she was severely anemic. They left the carnival in the next town, and he found work on a fruit orchard. They stayed in a caretaker\u2019s shack on that farm so Flo could rest in the sun and get her strength back. Come October, they should have left, but the days were still warm. In November, he got the idea that he could insulate the walls with newspaper and put up some plywood on the inside, but the wind still found the cracks. When the farmer told them he didn\u2019t want to be responsible if the two of them froze to death or asphyxiated from a kerosene heater, they\u2019d packed and left the next day.<\/p>\n<p>John was saying something about the town where he\u2019d lived most of his life, but only when Flo responded did Rusty tune back in to their conversation.<\/p>\n<p>The clock on the dashboard read nearly four-thirty. Cars had their lights on, and Christmas decorations illuminated the houses. \u201cLotsa colored lights here, Flo,\u201d Rusty said. \u201cOne house all wrapped up in \u2018em\u2014red, green, yellow, blue.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>For John\u2019s sake, Rusty explained that Flo had lost her sight at sixteen from a high fever. \u201cShe still got the pictures in her head, though, so I can tell her what things look like.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cThat\u2019s good,\u201d John said. \u201cAnd good of you to make sure she doesn\u2019t miss it.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNot, Flo.\u201d Rusty turned toward her and extended his hand. \u201cShe don\u2019t miss a trick.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Flo reached for him simultaneously, which made Rusty wonder if she\u2019d heard his sleeve against the upholstery or just sensed it. He\u2019d never stop marveling at her.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cSay, you folks hungry?\u201d John slowed down and signaled for a turn.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAlways,\u201d Rusty grinned.<\/p>\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"flourish wp-image-996 size-full alignnone\" src=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/double-flourish-content.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"88\" height=\"31\" \/><\/p>\n<p>John pulled the Pontiac into a parking space in front of the diner and shut off the engine. He tucked the keys in his jacket pocket and opened the door. \u201cYou get Flo inside. I\u2019ll be along presently.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cQuick as two jackrabbits,\u201d Rusty said.<\/p>\n<p>John sank back against the seat. Gabe had a dozen such sayings. This man could be his son, except, of course, that wasn\u2019t possible.<\/p>\n<p>The cold made John\u2019s legs duller and deader than usual, and the short walk took forever. Finally, he reached the door. Rusty bounded over from a table in the corner and helped him inside.<\/p>\n<p>John insisted Rusty and Flo order something more substantial. He sipped coffee and listened to their tales of the being on the road with the carnival. Rusty was a born storyteller, and probably stretched the truth a little, now and again.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>These two kept changing, right before his eyes.<\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>Out of the oversized jacket and minus the hat, Flo looked younger, especially when she smiled. But now Rusty seemed older, a man who\u2019d seen much on the road and in the war. These two kept changing, right before his eyes. John raised his cup and took a steadying sip.<\/p>\n<p>When the waitress refilled Rusty\u2019s cup, he reached in his jacket and pulled out a small bottle. \u201cDon\u2019t get ideas about this,\u201d he said to John. \u201cI got a problem with my ears\u2014ring like a damn alarm clock in there. This helps a little.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo judgment here,\u201d John said, and didn\u2019t refuse when Rusty added a shot to his coffee.<\/p>\n<p>When their plates were empty and John had drained his mug a second time, he leaned across the table and grabbed Rusty by the sleeve. \u201cI got to tell you. You look like somebody I used to know\u2014somebody from the war.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAin\u2019t that the way with most soldiers. We always look like one another.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, it\u2019s different. You look like Gabe.\u201d Suddenly, John felt very old and tired, as if he could curl up and give in to everything that had happened, the circumstances that had saved his life and those that had taken his ability to walk on his own.<\/p>\n<p>A hand reached across the table, small and smooth\u2014almost childlike. He felt the pressure of Flo\u2019s fingers. \u201cTell us,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cMet him in France,\u201d John began. \u201cBoth of us scared to death and homesick as hell. Country boys\u2014just 18. His name was Gabriel McLevy. We called him Gabe.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>The Great War was a brutal crawl from one trench to another. They feared mustard gas or getting a bayonet to the gut, or contracting trench foot from the mud and damp and then gangrene setting in. When anxiety made their hearts into overwound clocks, ready to spring out of their chests, Gabe would start talking about his mother\u2019s cooking. \u201cDumplings as big as a horse\u2019s hoof. You\u2019d think they\u2019d be dense, but no, sir\u2014light as a feather. And chicken gravy as gold as a buttercup. My ma could cook your boot and make you think it\u2019s a Delmonico steak.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>They talked until their stomachs growled and somebody told them to shut up. But by then the worst of the fears had passed. When the sergeant ordered them up and out of the trench, Gabe would reach for one of his pa\u2019s favorite sayings\u2014<em>Fast as lightning. Quick as a wink. Two shakes of a lamb\u2019s tail.<\/em> On Flanders Field, in the First Battle of Ypres, rushing toward some pitted stretch of no man\u2019s land, Gabe\u2019s words pulsed in John\u2019s brain, and his feet obeyed. <em>Make like a bunny and hop! <\/em>Every time, he reached the safety of the next trench.<\/p>\n<p>Then once, as they charged ahead, John hadn\u2019t seen the barbed wire that ensnared his feet and landed him face-first on the ground. He\u2019d crawled away, trailing blood from both ankles, until someone grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the next trench. Only then did he think to ask about Gabe. For fifty-six years, he pictured those blue eyes trained toward the sky and the red hair parted neatly by a bullet.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAlways had the feeling I\u2019d stolen Gabe\u2019s life. Every good thing I got\u2014a wife, three daughters, a solid house, even my Pontiac\u2014was really Gabe\u2019s. When I got rheumatoid arthritis and my legs went, I thought God was punishing me.\u201d John wiped the dampness from his eyes and cheeks.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cOh, John,\u201d Flo said softly. \u201cThat\u2019s a heavy burden.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cNo, man\u2014you got it wrong.\u201d Rusty\u2019s leg started pumping up and down as he spoke quickly. \u201cGabe was protecting you the whole time. That was his job, man. He kept you alive with all them things he said. And when you didn\u2019t need him anymore to take care of you, he didn\u2019t need to be there no more.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIf I hadn\u2019t fallen, Gabe would be alive!\u201d John voice rose and three people in the diner turned toward them.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cYou ever think that maybe you both would\u2019ve died?\u201d Rusty cocked his head at him. \u201cI seen it in \u2018Nam. You can\u2019t stop fate. Gabe wasn\u2019t going home from France, but you were. His job was to keep you alive to do what you needed to do\u2014get married, have your daughters, work at your job. Hell, maybe even to give me and Flo a ride today!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John rubbed his hand over his mouth a few times, gnawing on those words. \u201cI don\u2019t know. Seems kinda selfish to think that way.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Flo\u2019s hand reached for his again. \u201cIf I hadn\u2019t lost my sight, I wouldn\u2019t have met Rusty who loves me more than I could ever imagine. If I weren\u2019t blind, I might have ended up with someone else.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAnd if I didn\u2019t have this damn ringing in my head, I\u2019d have stayed in \u2018Nam and missed Flo,\u201d Rusty added. \u201cIt don\u2019t make no sense, but you got to accept what happens. Maybe it\u2019s all some plan.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>John looked up into the face that had at first had resembled Gabriel McLevy\u2019s, but not seemed markedly different. Maybe he was finally seeing things clearly. \u201cYeah, maybe you\u2019re right.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Planting two hands on the table, John got himself up, adjusted his canes, and walked slowly to the restroom. On the way back, he stopped at the payphone to call his wife, Clara, who scolded him soundly for making her worry that he was in a ditch someplace. When he returned to the table, he found Rusty and Flo right where he\u2019d left them, along with his jacket and the car keys.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cTalked to my wife,\u201d he said. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you folks come to our house for the night? In the morning, I\u2019ll drive you to the bus station in Syracuse, get you a couple of tickets to Florida.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>Rusty leaped to his feet and pumped John\u2019s hand. Flo stood and kissed his cheek.<\/p>\n<p>\u201cIt\u2019s what I got to do, right? Can\u2019t waste this life I\u2019ve been given.\u201d John accepted help getting his jacket back on, but walked to the car on his own with the canes.<\/p>\n<p>Rusty tipped his head back to study the evening sky. \u201cThe clouds\u2019re clearing, Flo, and the stars are coming out\u2014like sparkles on dark blue velvet. It\u2019s like \u2018Silent Night.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cAll is calm, all is bright,\u201d Flo quoted.<\/p>\n<p>Seeing Flo\u2019s smile, John knew she could imagine it. And, when he glanced up a second time, so could he.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<div class=\"hdivider hr-double hr-long\"><\/div>\n<div class=\"small-text\">\n<p>Videography by Pat Commins<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Patricia Crisafulli Original Fiction<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18,1],"tags":[136,15,145,25,149,146],"class_list":["post-3104","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli","category-uncategorized","tag-friendship","tag-love","tag-movie-trailer","tag-short-story","tag-trust","tag-video"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v15.5 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Rusty and Flo | Faith Hope &amp; Fiction<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Rusty and Flo | Faith Hope &amp; Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"Patricia Crisafulli Original Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Faith Hope &amp; Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/FaithHopeAndFiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2015-12-23T06:54:40+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2025-03-15T19:29:42+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/double-flourish-content.png\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@TrishCrisafulli\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@TrishCrisafulli\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\">\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"13 minutes\">\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\",\"name\":\"Faith Hope & Fiction\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/\",\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/FaithHopeAndFiction\",\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/TrishCrisafulli\"],\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#logo\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/faith-hope-fiction_logo.png\",\"width\":350,\"height\":350,\"caption\":\"Faith Hope & Fiction\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#logo\"}},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/\",\"name\":\"Faith Hope &amp; Fiction\",\"description\":\"Quality Online Fiction, Poetry, and Essays\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?s={search_term_string}\",\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#primaryimage\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/02\/double-flourish-content.png\",\"width\":88,\"height\":31},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#webpage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/\",\"name\":\"Rusty and Flo | Faith Hope &amp; Fiction\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#primaryimage\"},\"datePublished\":\"2015-12-23T06:54:40+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2025-03-15T19:29:42+00:00\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#webpage\"},\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#\/schema\/person\/a28900e37a2e4337aea039daa94ac8c4\"},\"headline\":\"Rusty and Flo\",\"datePublished\":\"2015-12-23T06:54:40+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2025-03-15T19:29:42+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#webpage\"},\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/rusty-and-flo\/#primaryimage\"},\"keywords\":\"Friendship,Love,Movie trailer,Short story,Trust,Video\",\"articleSection\":\"Original Online Fiction,Patricia Crisafulli\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#\/schema\/person\/a28900e37a2e4337aea039daa94ac8c4\",\"name\":\"Editor\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#personlogo\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/d985ff28de14b81d66b57434d9cdd54aeb6d753f9c7d8c8dfac6c91165988dab?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Editor\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\"]}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3104","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3104"}],"version-history":[{"count":66,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3104\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10472,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3104\/revisions\/10472"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3104"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3104"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3104"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}