Night Drive

Brooklyn Bridge Traffic Leaving Manhattan_{(Credit: Cliffano Subagio)}

“Who even drives a manual car these days?”

I hadn’t bothered correcting her when she said it, just made a crack about me being out of touch, and wiped the ice cream from her chin threatening to drop onto the checker skirt she was wearing. She smiled, and the sun kissed her eyes. Summer was her heaven on earth.

I overtake the red Honda Civic doing five under the speed limit. Not in the mood to play tonight. I floor it and take off. Lights hanging over the highway look purple. Something about defective bulbs. I don’t mind it. Gives some color to my evening. Speed is a good cure.

I was never one for loud bars in late summer, but she somehow convinced me. This beautiful beach town three states away was her favorite place to go in the warm months. I never knew why she loved it there, but she did. The night was so humid that the moisture clung to me like dying sailors with wreckage during the storm. I barely wanted to touch her because I was so unbearably warm, and the breeze off the ocean offered me no relief.

I slide my ways between a pickup who can’t be bothered to keep a consistent speed, and a sedan which couldn’t drive straight if its life depended on it. I swear at both of them even while their headlights shrink in my rearview. I don’t bother looking at the speedometer. The illuminated blurs of civilization on the edges of my vision tell me all I need to know about how fast I’m going.

We got back to the rental house with a guillotine blade hanging above our heads. I never liked clouding my judgement with booze. I wouldn’t be a good person under its influence. She had no such compunctions. So, she got upset that I wasn’t clawing at her in the bar, in front of all those other people. Never mind the fact that the crowd was stealing my breath, and I was on the razor’s edge of a panic attack, she started crying and claiming I didn’t love her. Somehow my anxieties didn’t matter.

The more challenging my drive, the less chance I have to get lost in the past. I push my speed harder, fighting for control around corners, cutting my way through traffic. Always with enough room, always in a safe manner. The more challenges I have, the more my focus is on the road. The engine roars since I am silent.

I had begun to lose sympathy for her tears.

To answer her question from that gorgeous summer’s day, I drive a manual car. It keeps me from thinking about her and her bullshit. Shifting gears gives me more control. And in times when I feel that so many outside forces are determining the course of my world, it’s nice to have something that answers to me and me alone.

I know I had committed my fair share of transgressions in our…whatever the hell we were. Didn’t always listen, didn’t always keep up my fair share of the emotional burdens. The more reality shifted around what would solve her problems at the moment, the less I began to care about what was fair.

Far off in the distance, the glow of the city tells me there is life. At this time of night, it’ll be mostly abandoned. I could do a fair amount of gawking at the lights up close and personal. That would require me to slow down, more than I’ll have to because of the turtle in the left lane I’m coming up on. Then again, I can’t just travel around the city since the bridge is out. The growling of my engine offers no solutions either way.

Our disastrous trip to the beach ended our last night on a sparsely populated boardwalk. With the slow, almost rhythmic pounding of sea upon shore, our winds tore into us. I held her against my chest as she apologized for hurting me whilst soaking my shirt with tears, moments before she cursed my name and pounded my chest in anger. I couldn’t help but pity her even as she rewrote reality to cast herself solely as victim, and me solely as villain.

The highway offers me a reprieve few other places would. I’ll cut through the city towards the south end, not as far south as the tunnel, but enough to get the flavor of the night. To brush the cheek of a world of downtown offices I’ll never be part of. My engine roars as I drop the hammer down, authoritatively changing lanes to avoid the Sunday driver puttering along at half the speed limit in the center lane. I swear to the gods, if there are cops around tonight, I’ll face off against them. I’d face off against Superman. Shit, I’d face off against the devil himself. And tonight, I’d win against all of them.

Our chapter ended in a manner less than harmonious. Wasn’t so much of a split as it was a tailspin in slow motion. The frequent phone calls became less frequent. We’d whisper what we used to shout, and we’d never speak aloud what we used to whisper. Hours without talking became days. Suddenly, settling old accounts seemed to be of paramount concern. She couldn’t be bothered to make the request herself. The disrespect ate at me, but I was secretly relieved to not have to face her. The gates then slammed in my face once I had settled my debts. It seemed she didn’t want to hassle with saying goodbye. That’s fine. She can go to hell.

This endless loop around a cold and silent city is already mine.