My consciousness crested on a wave of power chords, soaring violins, and icy air whipping by and throwing my hair against my face until it itched. Every inch of my skin felt alive—present. The heat was on full blast in the truck. My feet felt like I’d put them too close to a campfire, but the warmth reached a perfect blend with the night air right around my shoulders. Weeds, illuminated by silvery moonlight, blurred by my window as I smiled up at the constellations.
Brian turned down the music and looked over at me with a sly grin.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I—don’t know?”
His left hand drifted to a dial on the far side of the dash, turned it, and suddenly the headlights disappeared. For a moment, nothing else existed. The entirety of our future—school in the morning, college, marriage, our next fight—vaporized, leaving only that moment so full and heavy with moonlight, the growl of the old diesel engine, and the dim black-and-white view of Wormansville Road stretching out in front of us as far as we could see. The burned-out shell of an abandoned farmhouse looked on at us from the side of the road. We couldn’t see lights in any direction—the big square headlights on the F-250 had been the only ones for miles.
Panic rose in my chest. I felt like I had just accelerated toward disaster.
“Amazing, huh?”
“No!” I gripped the upholstery, rooting the heels of my hands on the bench seat. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Aw, come on.” I couldn’t see his eyes. Part of me wished I had it in me to be more rebellious, more carefree, more of a risk-taker.
Before the turn onto Municipal he switched the headlights back on. Through my relief I could feel we were getting closer to home—a little farther away from being alone without a past or a future, just the two of us hurtling through the dark.
Just learn to take one step at a time with your heels, no need to rush :)
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