scuttled in neat rows of ghost squadrons. He pulled into Chuy’s, a chain Mexican restaurant, then thought better of it. No sense risking their lives and a room full of people for a good burrito.
He drove on past a bank sign that showed the temperature as 102. Nine in the evening and still 102. He turned onto Broadway, headed east, and found a Carl’s Jr. They ordered at the drive-through, then sat in the parking lot of a Sunflower Market and ate, watching people walk in and out of the grocery.
“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” he said when he had finished his cheeseburger.
Maria shook her head. “This is best. For us both.”
He resisted the urge to argue. “Where will you go when it’s over? Back home?”
A shrug. “I don’t see how. I will figure out something. Can we leave?”
He checked the street as they pulled out. Looking over his shoulder was a full-time job, and it would be a relief not to worry about it anymore.
The better part of him, the part that had willed him to move forward and not wither, didn’t want to abandon her. Something deep was calling to him, a familiar song that felt like home in a barren, foreign land. He could drive for days and not see a single person he knew. But walking beside a broken and poured-out woman, he felt some moisture in the air after a long drought. And she was intent on going her own way. It was his life repeating itself. The familiar ache he had tried to bury and walk away from in order to live, in order to breathe.
At Speedway he turned right and hit construction horses, flashing lights, and a lowered speed limit. There was always construction somewhere in the city. He passed the gas station and went through a light to a dip in the road that said not to enter when water was present. What a joke. There hadn’t been enough water for a gnat to get a good mouthful in months.
“It was back there,” she said.
“I know where it is. I didn’t see your friends in the parking lot.”
“They won’t be in the parking lot—they are too smart for that. I told them about this truck. They will come when everything is all right.”
“I don’t like it. Where are they taking you?”
“It is better you don’t know. You should be glad to get rid of me. I’ve only caused you and your friends trouble.” She asked the time and he told her. Almost exactly two hours since she had been at the pay phone. He pulled into a wide, sandy area at the side of the road where vendors sold honey or homemade burritos and hot dogs. People trying to scrounge a living. When he turned off the engine and lights, they were in darkness with a billion stars peeking through the dirty windshield.
J. D. folded his hands across the steering wheel and looked into the sky. “You asked about my ring.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I was married for six years. To a woman who stole my heart the first time I saw her. Still has it. Taking off the ring is something I haven’t been able to do. It’s like looking in the rearview mirror when you back up. Just instinct.”
“What happened to her?” Maria said.
Deep breath. “She got sick.” Three words brought memories and he rubbed his forehead to stave off the onslaught, speaking before the pressure became too great. “The funny thing was, she was always the health nut. Real careful with everything she ate. Exercised every day. She had this little dog when we got married. Said I had to accept them both—they came as a package. She’d take it for a run, and then it got older and it could only walk. At the end the dog had to be pushed around in a baby stroller. She loved that little thing.”
He looked out at the stars through the mist in his eyes. It felt good to talk about their life together, to admit that she had walked the planet beside him. At the same time it hurt, like a dull knife through a scar.
“I can tell you loved her a lot,” Maria said.
He nodded. “I thought we’d always be
He drove on past a bank sign that showed the temperature as 102. Nine in the evening and still 102. He turned onto Broadway, headed east, and found a Carl’s Jr. They ordered at the drive-through, then sat in the parking lot of a Sunflower Market and ate, watching people walk in and out of the grocery.
“I’m not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?” he said when he had finished his cheeseburger.
Maria shook her head. “This is best. For us both.”
He resisted the urge to argue. “Where will you go when it’s over? Back home?”
A shrug. “I don’t see how. I will figure out something. Can we leave?”
He checked the street as they pulled out. Looking over his shoulder was a full-time job, and it would be a relief not to worry about it anymore.
The better part of him, the part that had willed him to move forward and not wither, didn’t want to abandon her. Something deep was calling to him, a familiar song that felt like home in a barren, foreign land. He could drive for days and not see a single person he knew. But walking beside a broken and poured-out woman, he felt some moisture in the air after a long drought. And she was intent on going her own way. It was his life repeating itself. The familiar ache he had tried to bury and walk away from in order to live, in order to breathe.
At Speedway he turned right and hit construction horses, flashing lights, and a lowered speed limit. There was always construction somewhere in the city. He passed the gas station and went through a light to a dip in the road that said not to enter when water was present. What a joke. There hadn’t been enough water for a gnat to get a good mouthful in months.
“It was back there,” she said.
“I know where it is. I didn’t see your friends in the parking lot.”
“They won’t be in the parking lot—they are too smart for that. I told them about this truck. They will come when everything is all right.”
“I don’t like it. Where are they taking you?”
“It is better you don’t know. You should be glad to get rid of me. I’ve only caused you and your friends trouble.” She asked the time and he told her. Almost exactly two hours since she had been at the pay phone. He pulled into a wide, sandy area at the side of the road where vendors sold honey or homemade burritos and hot dogs. People trying to scrounge a living. When he turned off the engine and lights, they were in darkness with a billion stars peeking through the dirty windshield.
J. D. folded his hands across the steering wheel and looked into the sky. “You asked about my ring.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“I was married for six years. To a woman who stole my heart the first time I saw her. Still has it. Taking off the ring is something I haven’t been able to do. It’s like looking in the rearview mirror when you back up. Just instinct.”
“What happened to her?” Maria said.
Deep breath. “She got sick.” Three words brought memories and he rubbed his forehead to stave off the onslaught, speaking before the pressure became too great. “The funny thing was, she was always the health nut. Real careful with everything she ate. Exercised every day. She had this little dog when we got married. Said I had to accept them both—they came as a package. She’d take it for a run, and then it got older and it could only walk. At the end the dog had to be pushed around in a baby stroller. She loved that little thing.”
He looked out at the stars through the mist in his eyes. It felt good to talk about their life together, to admit that she had walked the planet beside him. At the same time it hurt, like a dull knife through a scar.
“I can tell you loved her a lot,” Maria said.
He nodded. “I thought we’d always be
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