Only the Moon Knows About Rainy Roads and Gas Stations
The squish of mud under the tires of a battered old truck; these tires turned and turned at a reckless pace until the intruding foot was kicked back to the right side of the vehicle. The girl this foot belonged to huffed with impatience. She never thought much of speed limits. She went fast.
Streetlights flashed by in predictable rows. They were outreaching from the city struggling to be escaped; a glow creating an illusion that they were not even moving at all. That they would never get out. They would stay in a place that knew them enough to judge and would judge until a better story came by. One never would.
The driver smiled, stopping the foot from sneaking back over to the gas peddle. He reminded his companion about the dangers of a rainy-day road after the sun goes down. He was sensible. He kept her alive, often risking himself in the process, but the world turned slower when she looked his way. He had no choice.
Darkness engulfed them as the last flickering streetlight was surpassed. That was a little victory in itself. The two shot each other a glance, marking the occasion. The night moon shined down, welcoming them to another world. The trees grew fuller and stretched their gently swaying branches to shake their hand. Animal eyes glinted back at them from the corners of the road to show they had been expected to come. This was where these two belonged.
The rain beat down even harder, challenging the windshield-wipers to do their job. Another car traveling in the opposite direction with its headlights off passed by too closely. A howl from a lost pack of wolves cried out for someone in the world to remember them. Civilization ended here.
The driver flexed his jaw as a nervous habit. He swallowed hard as his teeth clenched together harshly. A hand that knew his face too well reached out to touch his cheek. It was a silently teasing comment because he was frightened at this as he gets with many other things, but it was also an attempt to comfort. It worked. Removing one hand from the wheel he took hers for a second, just enough to give it a squeeze.
The storm ended and the leaves stopped their frightened dance and calmed on the branches that had continued to hold them strong. Still wet, they reflected little streaks of light from the moon, creating a halo of an archway around the road. The right side window slid down on command and out stuck two sneakered feet, kicking in the breeze. Her head, now facing towards the ceiling of the car, strained to get a mischievous smile towards her favorite person to defy.
He didn't waist any time with a scolding. Such a method had proven ineffective. But a carefully placed tire on an upcoming puddle did the trick. A wave of freezing cold water was sent cascading overtop her law-breaking legs. Her scream filled the vehicle, exceeding his laughter in volume but not duration.
He apologized, but gave a look that contradicted such a proclamation of regret. Her bottom lip stuck out in half pout, half threat. His smile broadened as he grabbed the lip with two fingers and promised to make it up to her.
Lonesome advertisements of a forgotten gas station begged for their business. He pulled in to fill the tank, handing a distrustful blonde his smallest bill: a twenty. He demanded massive amounts of change knowing none would come. She left him with a punch on the shoulder to remember her by.
He didn't waist time coddling his injury. He would no doubt receive much more before the night was through. He simply watched the number on the machine go up and the one in his wallet go down.
She came bounding back out with a bountiful assortment of snacks and treats for herself and a small coffee for him. In her defense, it was prepared to his exact specifications. She had rolled up her soaked jeans and had left her shoes in the car. The cashier, who had given her trouble about it, now had a bruise on his shoulder to match her company's.
He helped her with some bags, the ones that she had dumped on him, as he escorted her to the truck. The old gas station was left to its promisingly empty nightshift. They drove on.
She looked at him between bites. Memorizing the way his hair curled at the tips from the moist air. Her eyes traced down his profile. His face, his neck, his sweat shirt, they were all real. They were all hers. Maybe not the sweatshirt… yet. She planned bargaining and theft as she finished her last bag of chips. It was barely enough to satisfy, but it would have to do.
The dark silhouettes of trees faded out as a clearing was presented before them. He didn't think twice before driving off the side of the curving road and parking on the dew-sprinkled grass. He opened his own door and walked around to open hers. She was already stepping out of the truck before she noticed his gentlemanly attempt. She ragged on him for it and continued on her way.
A blanket was then spread out over the grass. They both sat down and settled in. Crickets played them a steady tune from the taller grass farther off. A sudden chilling breeze triggered the passing of his sweatshirt to her shoulders. She didn't have to steal it after all. They forgot about the city lights that waited for them down the road. Time and reason had no hold on these two. Only the moon knew where they were.