I looked out the passenger window to see him standing on the side of the road, hand out, thumb up. He was soaking.
Jaw clenched, I turned up the radio as if it would keep him from noticing me. Lady GaGa drowned out the sound of my windshield wipers keeping the hail from blocking my view.
He recognized me. My heart sank. He started half-running half-jogging on the sidewalk, trying to keep up with my van. I was going at twenty miles per hour, after all. I desperately tried to speed up, but a dumb, overloaded Macy’s van was chugging along in front of me. My car was in the farthest lane right, closest to the black figure behind me. I glared at him through the rear mirror.
Finally I hit a stop light. He caught up, of course. Being right next to the sidewalk, he got up close to my car.
How could he feel so free to bang on my window? “Meryl. It’s me! You know me. Could you let me in? C’mon. Please?”
I sure know you. The traffic light turned green. I heard honks behind me. I cursed under my breath. Not looking at him, rather, in the other direction, I lowered the passenger side window. I yelled over the weather and the sounds of angry drivers, “Just get in. Get in.”
He yanked open the car door, then quickly slipped into the back seat. He knew that I didn’t want to see his face.
“Thanks,” he said, panting. I didn’t answer. Instead, I drove straight ahead, gripping the wheel tightly, chest heaving up and down as if I had been the one running alongside a car. “Thanks,” he repeated.
“I heard you, I’m not deaf,” I said through gritted teeth. I jerked the wheel suddenly, making a sharp swerve to the right.
He laughed. “Why is the music so loud then?” How could he feel so comfortable, at home in my car? His arm was wrapped around the seat next to him. He was in a lounge position, feet hanging lazily.
“You’re muddy,” I stated simply. I turned down the volume, and purposely switched the radio station to his least favorite: Country.
“I know so. You never got mad at me about it before, though. You never cared.” Instead of his unwanted presence, I tried to focus on faint guitar strumming drifting from the car speakers.
Yes, I never cared. Yes, the seats of my car were already pretty stained and dirty. They hadn’t gotten a good cleaning for a while, but I could blame that all on those horrid exams in the past few months.
“That’s because things were different then.”
Ah, finally some silence. But no, with him in the car, it was guaranteed that there would never be silence for long.
“’That’s because things were different then’,” he mocked. God, did he think he was funny? Cute?
“Just shut up, okay? Just shut up,” I said slowly, making sure to enunciate each word, as if speaking to a toddler. My anger and frustration was obvious. Then I said in a rush, “I’m doing you a favor, it’s not the other way around, I only let you in because I pitied you, and I should have just kept you out. Understand?”A tear betrayed me, slipping down my cheek. Before it could become the next topic of our broken up conversation, I harshly wiped it off with the heel of my hand, putting in the effort you would put in to scrub something dirty.
“You’re speeding.”
“Shut up.”
He laughed again. “You don’t want to get a ticket. I know you can’t afford it.”
Another tear slipped down my cheek. I tried to keep firm, emotionless. “I’ll kick you out. Why are you being such a jerk?”
“Why are you being such a jerk?”
“It’s your entire fault, and you know it.”
“You know you still…”
“No I don’t! You wish, but I don’t!”
“I can smell a lie.” He chuckled.
I was fuming. I don’t. I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t, I repeated confidently in my head. I don’t still love you. But the voice sounded weaker and weaker as the ride went on. The voice then seemed unsure of itself. Then it started the questioning.
I was sorry that his apartment was straight across from mine. I finally pulled up to our street. I got out of the car. I didn’t bother opening the door for him. When he got out, he acted as if everything was how it was before. Almost.
He put his hand on my shoulder. Normally it would soothe me, but this time I was tense. Wary. Cautious.
He turned me around. Looked me in the eyes. Forgive me. Forgive me. Please.
I want to. My own eyes replied, But I can’t. You betrayed me.
I love you.
You don’t. You know what you did. I’m the only on-
I admitted it. I was dumb. You know it. His eyes were pleading. Desperate.
He wrapped his arms around me.
I gave in; I gave up. For the second time. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to resist. The hail kept on pounding on the sidewalk, but I was oblivious to it all. I released a long held breath. In relief? My heart was content, even though I didn’t want to admit it. I was in his arms. Everything would be alright. Back to the way everything was before.
Let’s try again.
Did I only want to hurt myself more? Did I only want to pretend that he had learned from his mistakes?
I don’t believe in second chances anymore.
