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She didn’t want to hit anything, of course.
All she wanted to do was disappear into the moment, to leave all her worries behind her, to shriek and laugh and feel her stomach lift and fall with every dip in the road. To be with Ethan in his hot little car and just not give a damn about who said what about whom and why.
None of it mattered, in the end.
In the end, it was you and your maker. Your decisions, your choices, that’s what you had to live with.
You do the best with what you’ve been given, trying to make your corner of the world a better place. If you could go to bed each night certain that you’d done your best, lived according to your own values, whatever they might be, then what did it matter what anyone else thought about you?
Carrie eased up on the gas pedal at the next rise. She was better at this than she remembered. She hadn’t bottomed out the little car, there were no suspicious creaks or groans.
Even Ethan, beside her, had relaxed against his seat back, as if more or less secure in the knowledge that she wasn’t going to destroy his car.
“You’re wasted on that SUV, you know,” he said. “I thought I liked to drive fast.”
“I’ve had a lot of years of old lady driving pent up inside me, it seems.”
Then, as she passed a stand of trees, a familiar whoop-whoop sounded behind her. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and saw blue and red flashing lights.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered. Then burst out laughing.
“Are you kidding me?” Ethan craned around in his seat. “I thought you said there weren’t any speed traps out here?”
She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s been a long time.”
As in, never.
She pulled over and waited for the highway patrol officer to come over to them. It was a young woman, her hair pulled back severely.
“License and registration,” she said, peering through the driver’s side window. “Not to sound cliché, but where’s the fire?”
Carrie bit her lip and fumbled through her purse for her driver’s license, praying she could keep a straight face. Ethan pulled the papers from the glove box and shoved them at Carrie.
“I’m sorry, officer.” A laugh bubbled up but she managed to swallow it. Unfortunately, it came out sounding like a hiccup.
“Ma’am,” said the officer. “Have you been drinking?”
“I really haven’t,” said Carrie.
“She really hasn’t,” said Ethan.
“Step out of the car, please.”
Carrie got out, not even bothering to try and hide her laughter now. It wasn’t funny. Not in the least. She was going to get a whale of a ticket. She was seriously pissing off this cop. She’d done it in the single most recognizable car in the county, which wasn’t going to do Ethan’s reputation any good at all.
She leaned over, bracing her arms on her thighs and laughed and laughed.
The police officer looked at Ethan.
“Come on out, Mr. Nash. Wanna tell me what’s going on here?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
The officer looked at her watch. “I’ve got time.”
She gestured for the two of them to follow her to the cruiser.
“Family problems,” Ethan explained, putting his hands on Carrie’s shoulders and looking into her face. “Carrie. Honey. Pull it together.”
“She’s… got… time,” hooted Carrie. “I’ve… got time.”
He propelled her to the police car and helped her sit down in the back seat.
“She… called you… Mr. Nash.” She wasn’t drunk but she felt it. She felt like she was watching someone else inhabit her own body, behaving so out of character that it must be a dream or a reality TV show or Candid Camera or something.
“I’m so sorry,” she heard Ethan say quietly. “She’s been under a lot of pressure lately.”
“I’ll need to get a reading.”
“Go ahead. She’s clean.”
The officer busied herself for several minutes making notes, talking into her radio in whatever code law enforcement officers always used to befuddle the normal folk.
Finally she held the breathalyser in front of Carrie. Dutifully, she blew into it. The hilarity of the whole situation was abating now, as the ridiculousness and the irresponsibility of it all began to weigh in on her.
