step somewhere along the line. Like we’d skipped a few pages in the book, or scenes in the movie. It felt both wrong and right, simultaneously. I wanted to caution myself against getting too involved, yet at the same time, I wanted to scream that I didn’t care and dive in head-first regardless. My head swam.
A few minutes passed in silence. She had settled back in her seat and was staring out of the windscreen. Her hand felt comfortable in mine, familiar, easy. I wanted to sit here like this with her as long as she would let me.
Surreptitiously, I checked out her car. It was clean and tidy, which didn’t surprise me. Then, glancing over her shoulder, into the back seat, I saw something that did. There was a pile of clothes, neatly folded, on top of an unravelled sleeping bag, a pillow at the other end.
My brain was still processing that information when she spoke again.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
I looked up to find her watching me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think it’s a crime to sleep in your car, is it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She bowed her head, staring at our hands, laced together.
“Can I ask why?”
“I like it.”
I wasn’t buying it. The answers to all the questions I had were somewhere inside of her, and I wanted to pull them out – one by one, if I had to. But I could feel her shutting down, pushing me away again, so I backed off, just to be safe. I would need to be careful.
The heat in the car was stifling, with the sea breeze barely taking the edge off. I was already dry, the sand clinging to my legs from earlier. I spied her towel in the back seat and handed it to her.
“Here,” I said. “For your face.”
She slipped her hand out of mine and used the towel to carefully scrub the sand off her face. She missed a few spots, and I reached over to gently wipe away the grains from her cheek and the tip of her nose.
“How long have you been sleeping in the back seat?” I asked, as sensitively as I could.
She seemed to consider the idea for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to explain it. The towel dropped back into her lap.
“A while.”
She was mentally shoving me backwards, so I settled on something less intrusive. “So, tell me a bit about yourself. Where are you from, where did you grow up?”
She leant back against the head-rest and closed her eyes. “Oh, y’know. Around.”
I backed down immediately, afraid of pushing too far, of pushing her away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do the whole Spanish Inquisition thing. I just realised that I don’t really know much about you, and you pretty much know everything about me.”
“Not everything,” she said, opening her eyes and turning to me. “You’ve still retained your air of mystery, don’t worry.”
Any delusions I’d had about reinventing myself went right out the window, as I realised what bullshit that was. It was only a matter of time. She could ask anyone here what my story was and they’d tell her. It wasn’t the fresh slate I’d hoped for, and my heart sank. I was the same sensible, pathetic loner I’d always been – maybe even more so now.
“Thank you,” she said, oblivious. “For staying with me. And sorry I freaked out on you like that.”
“No need for apologies, or thanks. It was the least I could do. I still think you should come back to my place for a while, though.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay, now – really. Look.” She held out both hands, palms down. “I’ve stopped shaking and everything. I’m hungry, so I must be okay.”
The words came out of nowhere. Maybe it was her smile, giving me the courage to reach. Maybe it was something else. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t prepared to spend another night tossing and turning, wondering whether I should’ve said something, berating myself for not having the guts.
“That’s definitely a good sign,” I said, before I lost my nerve. “I do feel kind of responsible for nearly drowning you out
A few minutes passed in silence. She had settled back in her seat and was staring out of the windscreen. Her hand felt comfortable in mine, familiar, easy. I wanted to sit here like this with her as long as she would let me.
Surreptitiously, I checked out her car. It was clean and tidy, which didn’t surprise me. Then, glancing over her shoulder, into the back seat, I saw something that did. There was a pile of clothes, neatly folded, on top of an unravelled sleeping bag, a pillow at the other end.
My brain was still processing that information when she spoke again.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
I looked up to find her watching me. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think it’s a crime to sleep in your car, is it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
She bowed her head, staring at our hands, laced together.
“Can I ask why?”
“I like it.”
I wasn’t buying it. The answers to all the questions I had were somewhere inside of her, and I wanted to pull them out – one by one, if I had to. But I could feel her shutting down, pushing me away again, so I backed off, just to be safe. I would need to be careful.
The heat in the car was stifling, with the sea breeze barely taking the edge off. I was already dry, the sand clinging to my legs from earlier. I spied her towel in the back seat and handed it to her.
“Here,” I said. “For your face.”
She slipped her hand out of mine and used the towel to carefully scrub the sand off her face. She missed a few spots, and I reached over to gently wipe away the grains from her cheek and the tip of her nose.
“How long have you been sleeping in the back seat?” I asked, as sensitively as I could.
She seemed to consider the idea for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to explain it. The towel dropped back into her lap.
“A while.”
She was mentally shoving me backwards, so I settled on something less intrusive. “So, tell me a bit about yourself. Where are you from, where did you grow up?”
She leant back against the head-rest and closed her eyes. “Oh, y’know. Around.”
I backed down immediately, afraid of pushing too far, of pushing her away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do the whole Spanish Inquisition thing. I just realised that I don’t really know much about you, and you pretty much know everything about me.”
“Not everything,” she said, opening her eyes and turning to me. “You’ve still retained your air of mystery, don’t worry.”
Any delusions I’d had about reinventing myself went right out the window, as I realised what bullshit that was. It was only a matter of time. She could ask anyone here what my story was and they’d tell her. It wasn’t the fresh slate I’d hoped for, and my heart sank. I was the same sensible, pathetic loner I’d always been – maybe even more so now.
“Thank you,” she said, oblivious. “For staying with me. And sorry I freaked out on you like that.”
“No need for apologies, or thanks. It was the least I could do. I still think you should come back to my place for a while, though.”
“Thanks, but I’m okay, now – really. Look.” She held out both hands, palms down. “I’ve stopped shaking and everything. I’m hungry, so I must be okay.”
The words came out of nowhere. Maybe it was her smile, giving me the courage to reach. Maybe it was something else. One thing was for sure, I wasn’t prepared to spend another night tossing and turning, wondering whether I should’ve said something, berating myself for not having the guts.
“That’s definitely a good sign,” I said, before I lost my nerve. “I do feel kind of responsible for nearly drowning you out
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