The Ride

He stood on the corner shivering in the early morning cold. For the second time that minute he checked the time and looked down the street hoping to see the bus. A gust of wind cut from the east that made him turn away and put up his hood. Even in spring the mornings could be cold as winter afternoons. He sighed and it formed a cloud in front of his face as he thought about the bus being late, again. Pacing impatiently he began imagining what his boss would say if he were late. Cars stopped at the stop sign and he always felt the drivers’ eyes on him. For whatever reason he always thought they were judging him. He couldn’t be sure why, maybe for not owning a car, maybe for being perceived as poor, but whatever it was he was sure they were thinking it. Again he checked the time and again he looked down the street for the familiar blue and green beast that would steadily take him across town. Instead what he saw was the familiar disappointment of random car headlights. He tended not to look at cars stopped at the stop sign, but he was always aware of them, they would sit momentarily in his peripheral vision before speeding off. Something was different this time, the car had been stopped a little too long, longer than anyone would stop any other time of the day. When he turned to look he saw a car straight out of his past. He immediately recognized the dark blue compact SUV, the right taillight still broken and “fixed” with tape, and the woman behind the wheel. As he stared and felt the familiar rush of memories flood his brain the passenger side window rolled down and she called to him to get in. Her voice stirred the churning cauldron of his mind even more, adding bits and pieces thought lost or forcibly forgotten. Their eyes were locked as he slowly stepped into the street and opened the door.

The inside of the car had changed so imperceptibly that the change in her seemed more obvious. It had been a couple years since they’d last seen each other. She had cut her hair fatally short and straightened it to within an inch of its life. Gone were the long flowing locks he once knew, but it was still black as the night sky. Her eyes were the same pale green, with wisdom he would never know locked behind them. She looked different when compared to the photographs in his mind, but she looked the same too. As they pulled away from the stop sign a heavy silence fell upon them.

“Thanks,” he said to break the quiet, “you didn’t have to give me a ride.”

“It’s no problem,” she said never looking at him, “it’s on my way.”

The silence returned with deafening force. What do you say to someone you spent a year of your life with? Small talk seems pointless with someone you’ve had sex with and you can’t bring up that fact without making things awkward. There’s and implied level of closeness with someone you’ve been intimate with, both physically and mentally, that never truly diminishes in time. It’s always there and you both feel it, but it’s hard to return to that level of comfort after years apart. He knew he had to say something though or this was going to be a very long twenty minute drive.

“I didn’t know you were living around here,” he said after the silence had dragged on, “I thought you moved down south.”

“I did for awhile,” she said relaxing her grip on the steering wheel, “but it didn’t work for me, I missed it here. I missed my family and my friends.”

“Yeah I’d imagine,” he was staring out the window at the grey sky passing overhead.

“How have you been?” she asked casually with a hint of hidden curiosity.

“I’ve been ok,” he said honestly, “you know me, nothing ever really changes.”

“Still hiding from the world in your apartment?”

“Pretty much,” he laughed only half forcibly, “there wasn’t much reason for me to go out after you left.”

He knew as he was saying it that it was not something that should’ve been said. The silence returned again and he wondered what she was thinking about.

“Anyway,” he was determined to salvage the conversation, “how long have you been back in town?”

“Only a couple weeks,” she said, “just long enough to unpack and find a job. Haven’t had much time to see anyone yet.”

“Just me randomly standing on the street corner,” he joked.

“Yeah,” she laughed quietly, “just you.”

He was different, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was exactly that was different about him. His hair was longer and he looked more tired than she remembered, but his eyes were the same rich blue and he still seemed to always have that half smile on his lips. It was something mentally that was different in him, that’s what she was noticing. As they drove through the city his attention seemed fixed on the sky and the passing building. He seemed sadder than she had ever seen him and lost, almost like he was searching for something. Maybe not searching for something, but longing for something. She almost didn’t recognize him standing on the street corner, but when she did, her mind was filled with memories of laughter and warmth. Although she still wasn’t completely sure what compelled her to offer him a ride. She was afraid it might be awkward, and it was for a few minutes, but then he seemed to be the same person she left years ago. He seemed slightly nervous around her, carefully picking his words. It reminded her of when they first met. He seemed so shy, but as she nestled into his life he opened up to her completely. They were happy and comfortable together living day by day and never worrying or wondering about the future and what it held. All that mattered to them was their present.

“I’ve missed you,” he said out of the silence.

She wasn’t expecting that nor was she prepared for it. The sentiment seemed to come out of nowhere and it was unlike him, or unlike the him she once knew, to say something like that so plainly. As they sat at a red light she realized she had missed him too. After fifteen minutes in the car together she was reminded through his voice and her memories of why she loved him.

“I thought about you after I moved,” she said as the light turned green, “you would have loved the warm days and long nights. It was beautiful there.”

“It’s beautiful here,” he said distantly, “but it’s different, I know what you mean.”

“You always were quick to defend the beauty of this city,” she said smiling.

“Too many people don’t see it,” he sighed, “it’s sad.”

“I see it,” she said looking at him, “I’ve always seen it.”

“I know,” he smiled.

As the car came to a stop in the parking lot neither of them were sure what to do. Two years ago they would have kissed and said goodbye and made quick plans for that night. Those days were long behind them though and now the process of saying goodbye seemed foreign. He grabbed his backpack and opened the door. The sun had finally added some warmth to the morning and was slowly dispelling the grey clouds. He looked at her sitting in the car intermingled with memories of her sitting there two years ago. It all felt similar, and right, but drastically different. It didn’t feel wrong though. His fears that it would be uncomfortable or awkward were unfounded. They both just seemed hesitant, testing the waters, re-learning something they had once known so well.

“Thanks for the ride,” he said unsure of what else to say. “No problem,” she said unsure of what else to say.

He closed the door and started walking away when he heard her call him back. His window was down and she was leaning over into the passenger seat.

“Did I forget something?” he asked.

“No,” she said hesitantly, “I just wanted to say that, I’ve missed you too.”

He didn’t know how to respond. For a moment they just stared into each other’s eyes. Before he could say anything she began pulling away. He lit a cigarette and watched her car until it disappeared around the corner. He let out a long exhale of smoke, unable to properly process what had happened and what it all meant or could mean.

“Who was that?” asked a co-worker as he headed for the building, “you meet someone new?”

“In a way,” he said exhaling smoke again.

2012