I don’t have to look over to know that she’s asleep. She started mumbling around question eleven (“Does it have to do with magic camp?”) and now I can hear her steady breathing and the smallest hint of a snore. It’s just as well; there’s a lot of day left and I’d hate for her to be silently miserable for the rest of it, if she isn’t already. Plus, it gives my mind some rest from the constant battle I’ve been waging all day. I never realized how utterly exhausting it is to keep myself in check when it comes to her; constantly having to watch what I say, what I do, if I’m too close to her, if I’m staring too long. It’s a wonder she hasn’t noticed by now. Or maybe she has.
There’s a terrifying thought.
Not that subtlety has ever been my strong suit, especially around her, but what are my options? Stay silent, wallow in pity, and watch her marry another man or tell her. There’s nothing I can—
Tell her. Can I…could I do that?
It’s a good sign that I haven’t slept in awhile if I’m even having thoughts like that. Not that I haven’t before…sure, I’ve thought about telling her. Just coming clean and laying it all on the line. There’s something very old-Hollywood romantic about it, making some deep profession of love that would make Shakespeare jealous. But thoughts like that are dangerous because the reality of it is, nothing I could say could make her change her mind.
And yet…
The smiles, the laughter, the jokes, the fleeting moments where so much is said in deafening silence; it’s becoming harder and harder to ignore. This is hardly the first time I’ve gone in a circle with these thoughts, but now there’s an expiration date, a looming deadline where once it passes, it’ll be too late. And the closer it gets, the more insistent those unspeakable words become, the easier it is to just blurt it out in the middle of Twenty Questions in response to “Is it a three-toed sloth?”
And yet…
Jesus, I’m tired. I glance over at her and she looks so peaceful, except for the two soft creases of worry in the middle of her forehead. She’s wrestling with something, that much is obvious, and I wonder if this is one of the many ESP moments Pam and I have sometimes. Like when she knew to grab the coat rack with the umbrella with a just a tiny raise of my eyebrows. I love that about her, one of the many things actually.
The miles tick by and signs appear every so often signaling that Connecticut is getting closer and closer. My throat dries up like I swallowed a cotton ball with each sign, watching my future approach at a rate of 75 mph. I start to question my motives for even applying for the transfer in the first place, because the more I think about it, the more I realize that I’ve never actually pictured myself going there. To be honest, I wanted to see her reaction. I thought maybe she’d call my bluff, or beg me not to go, or maybe tell me the one thing I’ve always wanted to hear. And just like that, I would stay.
But none of that happened, and maybe I was naive to expect that it would. I can’t really complain though; in all my scenarios of what would happen when I told her, having her asleep in my car at 6:30 in the morning was definitely not one of them.
A flash of blue, red and white in my rear view mirror snaps me out of my thoughts and I mutter a small curse as the police car signals for me to pull over. I look over at Pam, still soundly asleep amidst the glaring sounds of the siren emanating just a few feet away. I roll down my window as the officer strolls up.
“License and—“ he begins to bark before he notices my unconscious passenger.
“Registration,” he finishes in a low voice, a kind gesture considering that I’m probably about to get a ticket. I carefully fish it out of the glove compartment and hand the documents to him, all the while keeping my eyes on Pam.
“You know how fast you were going?” he asks.
I shrug. “Too fast?” I say in the friendliest way possible and he chuckles.
“Yes, son, too fast. You should be more careful with such precious cargo in the front seat.” He nods his head towards her and I smile.
“You’re right, sir.”
“Where are you and the Mrs. headed to so early this morning?”
I clam up. “Oh, umm, no, she’s not—I mean we’re not—she’s my girlfriend.” What possessed me to say it, I have no idea. But I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel great.
“Ah, my mistake. So? Where are you headed?”
“Connecticut. Stamford,” I clarify.
“Nice town.”
“Yeah, we’re uhh—looking for a house.”
“Jim?” Oh crap, she’s awake. I look over to find her with still sleepy eyes, her head just barely lifted from the headrest. “What’s going on?”
“Hey, sorry, I was…going too fast.” I glance up at the officer who’s still smiling congenially at us. I’m terrified he’s going to blow my cover.
“I’ll let you guys off with a warning, but watch that lead foot there, okay son?”
“Yes, sir,” I say shifting uncomfortably in my seat, silently willing for the cop to walk away before he rats me out.
“Have a good one, and good luck with house hunting.” And with a tip of his hat, he strolls back to his car, pulling out from behind us and disappearing down the road.
“You told him we were looking for your new place?” Pam asks with a voice hoarse from sleep.
“Yeah, he was quite chatty. Must be bored this early in the morning,” I laugh nervously, turning on the engine again. We merge onto the highway once more and this time, I pay much more attention to the speedometer.
“Did you guys talk about anything else?” she asks.
I let out a loud sigh. “Nope, that was it.”
We pass another sign, one that reads “Connecticut State Line: 20 miles.” I take another deep breath and ease my foot from the gas pedal.
6:59
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Miss Becky215 for giving this a once over before posting :)
Chapter End Notes:
7:00 am?!? My how time flies :)
