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We get down to the basement car park. The car used to be her father’s. A canary yellow 1987 Acura Integra. I used to admire that car so much when we were teenagers, though it was already getting old then. Now it sits in the parking spot that came with Briarlee’s apartment looking dated.
She used to have about 110 horsepower. Who knows how many of those horses have bolted over the decades. It doesn’t really matter. We just need to get on the road.
“Get in the car,” I say, swinging her down to her feet. She pouts, but does as she’s told. I pop the hood. Check the oil. Check the water. To my surprise it actually has both. The battery is probably dead though. I hope not.
I get into the car, turn the key. It starts. I can hardly believe it. That battery has to be ten years old at least, but it has enough to get the starter motor going and as the gauges all start registering their various levels, I see we have gas too.
“You looked after this,” I say.
“Yeah,” Briarlee says. She’s sitting in the passenger seat. The bags are in the back. So far, so good. I put the car into reverse and swing out of the parking spot. It’s been a while since I’ve driven a car. After the accident, I didn’t like driving much. My hands would get sweaty and shake. My throat would get dry. I’d be so damn nervous I could barely concentrate on the road, let alone the traffic. In the end, I gave up and just used public transport. More environmentally friendly.
I don’t feel any of the fear now. The wheel beneath my hands connects me to the power of the engine. It’s mine to use as I see fit. I almost don’t feel as though I’m on the run. I feel like I’m driving toward a new future. There’s not much left in the city for me. I’ve done what I needed to do here. I fixed my ills. I got the girl. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing to get out now, take to the wilds.
“Where are we going?”
“This is a big country,” I say. “We can go anywhere.”
* * *
Briarlee
He flashes me a reckless, devil-may-care smile and I feel a rush of happiness and freedom. We hit the highway and we drive. He has one hand on the steering wheel, the other on my thigh and the world is opening up before us, expanding from the ribbon of tarmac like an endless plain.
His concern seems to be fading. The purr of the four-cylinder engine isn’t what I’d call powerful, but it’s lively. For these sweet, precious moments, it almost feels like we’re teenagers again. There’s possibility, rebellion, desire, all mixed up together.
“Do you remember when we ran away together because I was mad at my dad?”
“Uh huh,” Daniel grins. “I put you on the handlebars of my bike and we went to the woods for an afternoon.”
“I thought we were going to live there. Until I got hungry,” I laugh. “I was such an idiot.”
“No, you weren’t,” he says, his tone suddenly serious. “You’ve never been an idiot, Briar.”
“That night I drank I was.”
Everything seems to come back to that night. I don’t know if we will ever escape it. That one mistake has sent ripples through my existence, and even though sometimes it feels like things are getting peaceful, another wave comes to tell me that I was wrong.
“Plenty of teenage girls and guys make that same mistake,” he says. “Most of them don’t define themselves by it forever.”
“Yeah. Most of them don’t almost kill their best friend in the whole world.”
“You didn’t do that.”
No matter how many times he tells me I didn’t, and no matter how much I intellectually know it was the man coming the other way who hurt us and wounded Daniel so terribly, I can’t stop believing that it’s my fault. The guilt has been a burden for so long it’s just a part of me. I don’t even know what I’d be like without it.
We fall into silence as the road flashes by. It’s strange to think just how much road there is in this country. It feels like we could drive forever, almost never encountering the same stretch twice.
“Do you really think the military are going to come for you?”
“I think my old boss told me they would, and I think I don’t want to be beholden to the military.”
“Beholden,” I repeat. “That’s a funny word.”
“Is it?” He flashes me a smile and pats my knee.
“Beeehoolldeen,” I say, letting it swirl around my mouth.
“You’re silly,” he smiles.
“And that’s why you love me.”
“Mhm. That, among a lot of things.”
I fall silent. He loves me. I know he does. I’ve always known that he always has. It’s time he heard the words he deserved to hear a very long time ago.
