meanwhile

Clarence walked around to the front of the car and jumped up on the hood. You know, it’s so like you to answer a question several years after I asked it, I said mockingly.

Then I bet you’re glad you’re still around to hear it, she replied without flinching. I kicked her shoe and laughed, although the topic was quite serious. But she was right, I was glad. We’d been on this spontaneous road trip for just shy of a week now, and it all began with a sullen argument over some misplaced towel. We had decided a few months prior to solve any difference with an act of spontaneity. The first suggestion would be the rule to follow. It would almost turn into a game, a distraction of sorts and an ideal opportunity to clear the air of lingering disputes.

This particular event had always made me feel so stupid, like I was completely missing the point of something I should understand. And the simplest way to try, was to ask what happened - but it would result in an impressive ability to avoid the subject. I was a bullet and she was an agent in The Matrix, dodging in slow motion while I was dumbfounded by how the world was nothing like I had always imagined it. So I had stopped asking, and as time went by, it seemed like another misstep.

I guess what I still don’t know is exactly how it happened, I say, jumping onto the hood with her. The weight of us made the thin metal sway slightly, making a deep sound of uncomfort. It reflected how I felt, almost like I didn’t want to know. I think I was just too scared to hear the answer. And maybe she knew, cause she didn’t speak. She just stared at her hands in her lap, fidgeting with the keys. I wanted to grab every bit of why and throw it into the vast field behind us. I wanted to make sure it would leave and never come back, although I knew that wasn’t possible for me to do. At the same time I felt like it was her moment to keep, as if I wasn’t supposed to feel any ownership to the choice of whether or not she should have experienced it.

So I just move my hand closer to hers, resting it on her thigh. She lets her index finger trace my heart line, and as she made her way toward the top of my palm I let our fingers intertwine. Her hands are cold and mine are on fire.

I just wanted her to know how strong I think she is. How proud I was of her for coming up above water, how she had done what I could never do. How her thoughts have meant so much to me any time she shared them, and that her perspective is unique, both then and now. It’s a rare thing to move someone the way she moves me.
We sit in silence for a little while longer while the car stereo plays terrible country music, lonesome nights and a dead dog named Ted, and I eventually ask if we should go back home.