To trips unknown. To the ones who had little to no direction and are just now starting to see. Happy summer.
“Water?” I asked him for the
third time this afternoon, bringing a bottle of water to his lips. His eyes
looked more exhausted than usual but his lips curled up to a smile, showing two
dimples on each side of his mouth. Cute,
I thought, but I fixed my eyes back on the road, scared the flush on my cheeks,
or the smile I was biting in would show. How
long has it been? I ask myself over and over again, trying to remind myself
of how we met. Of how we ended up being in the same car and me handing him
water like I was offering a bottle of champagne. I frown at how pathetic I must
look.
“Something wrong?” he asked,
raising both eyebrows – a puzzled look starting to brood on his face. “You can
change the music if you like.” He started fumbling over the buttons on the car
stereo in an attempt to change playlists.
I laughed, remembering how he
always over-interprets my responses. Avoiding
great damage, he always tells me. But if only he knew that the only problem
I had right now was my breathing and the drumming in my chest. Inhale. Exhale. I caught him looking at
me. I sucked in my breath, forgetting my breathing exercise, remembering how I
always told myself to master the art of pretense.
“I – I made you something,” he
finally gushed, like water pushing its way out of the hole from a rickety dam.
“Nothing too big,” he continued, “I just thought you’d-you’d like a new playlist.
I mean, you don’t have to listen to it. I mean, only if you want – “
I smiled and held his hand
resting on the steering wheel, feeling the rough edges of the scar snaking from
the back of his hand all the way down to his elbow. A flaw. The result of bad decisions, he chuckles. An interesting engraving of your youth,
I remind him back.
If only you came earlier, he once told me. I nodded, thinking how
things might have been. Will I have liked the former, innocent, and ungrazed
better? Or would I still have preferred the scarred guy driving right beside me
now. I wonder.
Arctic Monkey’s I Wanna Be Yours started blaring through
the stereo and I jolted up in my seat. Surprised. Confused. Pleased. Like I
just started reading the first love letter I’ve ever received from someone.
Like how hot water from the shower pricks my skin before I start loving it
until I refuse to step out from the bathroom.
“I thought you might have wanted
me to play it for you now,” he said apologetically.
“Oh. I do, I do...thanks,” I
whispered back. “Perfect timings, yeah?”
And there, I thought, when you want something, you just do.
Regardless of scars. Regardless. Regardless. I marvel at the thought like hard candy in my mouth.
With eyes still on the road, he
squeezed my hand before kissing the back of my hand. “Perfect timings.”