Needing to break the silence, I went with the first question that hit me. “So… how’s the weather just now?”
The sharp rapping of big raindrops on the window and the screeching of the wipers, meant that the answer to that question was obvious. With a wince, I shuffled around in my seat, wishing I could rewind the last two minutes.
“Really?” he asked incredulously. “You want to discuss the weather?”
He had a point.
“I’m nervous. You’re sitting there all…” I waved my hand at him, not taking my eyes off the road. “And I’m sitting thinking that if I had a knife I could cut the tension in this car. Like slice it finely like a sushi chef.”
Nervous rambling, it makes verbal vomit come out of all of us.
As the silence stretched on, I began to drum my hands on the wheel. It probably wasn’t the best idea seeing as how the car was almost being held together with tape and there was every possibility that the wheel could pop off it was that bad, but if that happened with any luck I’d be thrown from the vehicle when we crashed, and could run off into the woods to live off the land and disappear forever. Nary a Levi or a Townsend in sight to remind me of this moment. Maybe that’s what the fortune chick meant?
I could live in hope.
Focusing even more on the road, I almost missed the turning onto the land where the Townsend’s houses were. It wasn’t a ranch or a commune and it wasn’t a housing development. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what they even called it, so I just called it Townsend Central.
Jerking the wheel, I took the turn onto the road that led through it, wincing when we hit a pothole and then another one a short distance away from it.
“Shit, they were meant to be fixing this,” he sighed, reaching up the grab the weird handle above his head.
On the next pothole, there was a thud, and when I turned to look at him, he was staring at the handle - except now he was holding it in front of his face, when it had been attached to the vehicle only seconds before.
Did I really need to point out my car was a piece of shit to him? No, but I did anyway, making sure to phrase it as positively as possible. “This car’s old. In fact, I think it’s mainly running on a wing and a prayer right now. Just as well it was only the weird handle and not a door or the engine, right?”
Unfortunately, at that moment, we passed by his parent's house and the security lights turned on, lighting up the inside of the car. This meant that I could clearly see him gaping at me out of the corner of my eye, but decided to just carry on like I hadn’t until we got to his house.
Pulling up, I pressed on the brakes, wincing when a metallic screech followed it. It liked to do that in wet weather… and dry weather… basically it made noises in all weather, I don’t think it was picky about what exactly was going on with it.
Cutting the engine, I turned to look at him, smiling widely and waiting for him to move. I knew we needed to talk, but after that drive I felt like I had someone playing on drums inside my chest. It probably wasn’t best to conduct a normal, rational, mature conversation when that was going on, right? That was my excuse anyway.
The confidence that I’d had when I’d said we needed to talk was gone, and in its place was the Charlotte who just wanted to go home, sit on the couch, and eat chips. Or maybe ice cream. Ok, I’d go home and eat whatever I could get my hands on, and if it meant crossing food groups, I was ok with that.
Hoping he’d changed his mind too, I waited. Eventually he closed his mouth, and his expression shifted as he looked at me. “Mm, no, we’re still talking. Let’s go.”
And proving that he already knew me well, he plucked the keys from the ignition and got out of the car, leaving me no option but to follow behind him.
Awesome!Ten minutes later…
Things I’d rather be doing than drying off while I waited to have the conversation with Levi Townsend.
Plucking the hair out of my legs with tweezers, one by one.
Condition each strand of my hair individually.
Getting the Declaration of Independence tattooed over my back.
Learning how to crochet.
Learning how to crochet plucked leg hair into blankets for fairies.
Walking through snake-infested water trying to find fairies.
Giving someone an enema.
Cleaning out an infected wound with a fairy sized swab.“Swear to God, Charlotte, if you don’t come out and sit down, I’m coming in there,” Levi called through the closed door of the bathroom, pulling me away from my listing.