Drive

cathl wrote:The sun’s been down for hours now. If I stare out my window and really look, the shapes out there could be anything. I remember as a kid thinking the spaces between the dark branches were faces, their eyes leering at me, but it was only a trick of the light.
The headlights on Dave’s car are unmistakable. Their light chases away the shadowy faces I see. Dave honks his horn, so I grab my coat and softly step down the stairs. I walk through the living room. An empty water bottle lies on the floor next to the coffee table. I clear it up before I forget to throw it away again, then open the back door and step out into the cool night.
Dave honks his horn again. I guess he knows by now that my mom is always dead-asleep at this hour. I yank open the car door and slide into the passenger seat. I can only see his profile and his big hands resting on the wheel. Dave’s all dark, so dark I can imagine his face rather than really see it: he could be anyone. The engine roars as Dave drives away from my house and onto the worn road towards the farms.

Sara, Dave says, his big hand reaching out to me. I let him brush it against my leg.

Dave and I have known each other since grade school. He was big, even then, and his face still has that same roundness. Dave is a good guy, you’d say, and I like him, I do…Thing is around here you start dating one person, and soon enough you’re together, the years go by and boom! you’re married, living like your parents do now. It’s not a bad life, but I want the chance, you know?

Where do you want to go?

He asks that every time he picks me up. I shrug because we go to the same place. There’s a clearing on the other side of the line of farms, about twenty-five miles from my house. My mom and I used to go in the spring just when all the dandelions transformed into those white balls of fluff. My mom would hold out one to me and say, “Make a wish!” and I’d try my hardest, using my strongest breath, to blow away each little seedling.

I turn on the radio. At this time of night the only station I like is the classical one from the city. I hum along softly to one of Bach’s preludes while Dave tries to get my attention. He talks about the school basketball team, about the championship last week, how he scored the winning basket. I nod, but keep looking out the window, listening to the music.

Do you actually like this music?

Dave must realize that I haven’t been paying attention. I shrug.

My violin teacher, Ms. Kline, had me listen to it. I like it, it’s good.

You never told me you played the violin.

Oh. I used to play when I was little. Don’t you remember? I played for the talent show back in middle school. I was so nervous

Dave shakes his head,

I thought you were in that dancing group with Annie and Becca.

He laughs.

You guys had that routine, right? To the Backstreet Boys. Man, it was priceless.

It’s funny how he’s completely forgotten about that performance. I guess in a lot of ways the stupid, flirty dance I did with my friends was more memorable, but getting to play for the entire school was a big deal to me. My mom had just gotten me a violin to keep—paid on time—and I had practiced and practiced Allegro over and over until my mom had to ask me to stop. But I wanted it to be perfect. This was my big moment. I wanted to show my friends, my school, what I could do, what I loved to do, and the talent show was my chance to do it without looking desperate for attention. My hands shook throughout the whole damn thing, so much that I was afraid I’d hit the wrong notes, but the mass of darkness that was the crowd clapped long and loud when I finished. I couldn’t stop smiling. Teachers came up to me afterwards as I walked down the aisle to congratulate me, and say things like,
“I had no idea you played so beautifully!” or, “You never told us you were a violinist!”

My mom hugged me and said,

Oh, honey. I’m so proud.

Ms. Kline was standing next to her—she had promised to come to the show. That was when she pulled me aside into one of the rows of seats and said, with her hand gently on my arm as I carefully held my bow,

Stick with this. I mean it, you can really do this.

And I believed her.

Dave taps my arm,

We’re here.

I wish my mom hadn’t lost it when Dad left to “find himself” in Portland. She began to disappear. She had to go back to work and couldn’t take me to lessons anymore. I was too young to take the bus by myself, so I ended up dropping the lessons. I had to stop seeing Ms. Kline, but she let me keep the violin.

It’s taken care of, she had said, handing me back the case I had pushed towards her. I knew she must have paid for whatever was owed herself, and to this day, I wish I could pay her back.

He puts the car in park. I should have noticed that we turned off the highway, felt the gravel under the tires. It’s too cold to get the scratchy, wool blanket out of the trunk and spread it under the tree that sits in the middle of the field. Instead Dave whispers,

Come on, we’ll get in the back.

He must have thought about this before he picked me up. I’ve been thinking about it too. My friends have told me what I should expect, but I think that all the pain and letdown won’t happen to me. I know it will hurt, but there has to be something more after that. Dave and I will be completely connected, both of us completely engaged. And that’s half my fear: not the pain, but not being able to control myself. The movies always show the women moaning and twisting as if they can’t help it because of whatever the guy is doing. I think about resisting, saying something like, “No, not tonight. I’m on my…you know.” That would be enough to hold him off, but I do want this. He gently nudges me and leans across my lap to unlock the door. I step out of the car. It’s freezing outside, but I stand and watch him haul himself out of his side and slip into the backseat.
I don’t feel pressured. Deep down I know it’s as much for me as it is for him. I care about Dave a lot, the way you care about someone you’ve known your entire life. It isn’t love exactly, but it’s enough for us. And I’m curious. Who can I trust better than Dave? So I get in and sit beside him, let him kiss me, let him pull up my shirt, slide down my jeans, and murmur in my ear,

You’re beautiful.

I don’t know if he means it. I lie back and watch him fumble with the bright-blue wrapper. In that moment it feels like I’m watching this happen rather than living it: Dave’s light hair falls into his hooded eyes, his big hands tremble, his jeans cut into his skin, his t-shirt is frayed on the edges, and I see myself. There is an instant when I look into his face, a face as familiar as my own, and I realize that I deserve more than this.

Dave’s breathing quickens; he calls my name. It’s hurting.

He’s my choice. I chose him out of all the other guys I know because he’s decent, but I can see his life too. Dave—he’s pretty good with his hands—will become a plumber or, if he’s lucky, a carpenter.

Ow.

Dave looks up at me. I didn’t mean to say anything. I smile and nod.

Don’t stop.

He’ll spend his days in other people’s homes, homes far nicer than ours, looking under a sink or unclogging toilets. His shoulders and neck will ache from bending under counters to look at the pipes. It’s a dirty job, but Dave won’t complain because he’ll have responsibilities. When he isn’t dead tired from working all day, he’ll build some furniture on the side and make a little extra cash.

Dave pulls me down closer to him. The sweat on his face gives it this weird sheen. Watch your head, he says. I didn’t realize I had gotten so close to the door. I pull away from him, away from his weight.

Are you ok? Dave asks. I look him in the eye,

I’m fine.

He never suspects the truth.

Afterwards, as we pull out clothes back on, the sun begins to rise. We turn onto the highway. We ride back in silence, at least I do. Dave keeps saying little, soothing things like, “I love you” and “I’ll call you tomorrow,” but I know these words don’t mean anything now. The dim light gets in everywhere: between the branches, through the dense brush, into the car. I can see everything plainly.
Dave pulls the car into my driveway. He kisses me gently, then unlocks the door. I get out and walk slowly back into my house. I go through the kitchen, flicking on the light-switch, then go up the stairs. The sound of my mom’s snores rumbles out of her room. Softly opening my door, I step into my room. I think about showering, but decide it’d make too much noise. My closet door is open. Remembering, I get up and dig through the piles of coats, duffel bags, and dresses until I find the case. The black canvas is covered in dust, but inside, the violin looks almost untouched. I finger the bow. It’s dry and desperately needs a couple coats of resin, but I lift it to the strings anyway. The pull is screechy and shy because I haven’t got the guts to use enough pressure to make a steady note. The violin is out of tune. But I can fix that. Tomorrow I’ll use the school’s piano to tune up the strings. I’ve always had a good ear and the notes are simple: G-D-A-E.
I put the violin back in the case, carefully covering it with the red, velvet blanket. I strip off my clothes, put in the Schubert CD my mom got me when I first started taking lessons, and lie on the bed. The pain seems to grow and pulse from the origin until I can feel it everywhere. Maybe when I wake up the pain will be gone, and it will be like nothing has happened.

As the trio eases softly through the Adagio in E flat, I turn on my side and wait for sleep.

Wow, I'm impressed with how well written this is! It flows nicely and logically and you can tell you really have a connection with your subject. I'm assuming you play an instrument yourself because of this, but if not then you sure fooled me! =) Great job!!!

I really like it ! Good Story ! AMAZING !!

Hello,

This was an amazing piece! It was like reading real literature out of a book. Some of your dialogue needs quotation marks, and the dialogue gets bit confusing in the beginning so try to add some he said she said to a couple of the lines. Overall I am so impressed.

Thanks for the great read,
Tiffany

P.S. If you ever need a review feel free to PM me and also PM when you post the next chapter please