Tim is silent as he starts the engine; he puts his truck in drive and peels out of the parking lot. He feels Tyra watching him; he wishes he were alone. Then he could slam his fist into his seat, throw a beer bottle against a wall, drink away his anger.
They drive in silence for several minutes. Finally, Tyra speaks. "Are you okay?" she asks. Almost timidly. Like she doesn't want the real answer. She doesn't have to worry. He's not going to be honest with her.
"I'm fine," he says.
Tyra nods slowly. "Okay. Because it doesn't really seem like you're fine. Like you were fine back there. You barely acknowledged . . . her," Tyra clearly can't bring herself to use -her- name, as it were.
Tim doesn't reply. He's turning onto a deserted road, heading to Tyra's house.
"Can you believe her?" Tyra continues. "She thinks she's so . . . high and mighty. Hedge fund boyfriend, job for the Governor," she emphasizes the last word sarcastically.
Tim remains silent.
"I mean, he seemed okay - her boyfriend," she glances at Tim to gauge his reaction to that word. He doesn't react. "He was nice - good looking guy," she adds. "Seems like she really has her life wrapped up all nice, in one pretty bow. Doesn't she."
Tim doesn't respond.
Tyra sighs. "I mean - don't you have anything to say, Tim? Your ex-girlfriend just walked into Buddy Garrity's bar. The one you haven't seen in years. One might think you'd have something to say."
"I don't." Tim replies. Shortly.
They sit in silence for a few more minutes. Finally, Tyra breaks the silence. "Where are we going, Tim?" she asks. She already knows.
"I'm taking you home," he replies.
"I thought we'd . . . I thought we were going to your place," Tyra says quietly.
"I'm tired, Tyra; I'd just as soon . . . be alone tonight."
"Since when are you too tired for - fine," Tyra cuts herself off. Tim can hear the irritation in her voice. "That's fine, Tim. Just take me home then."
They drive in silence for the rest of the drive. When he pulls up to her house, Tyra opens the door and hops out quickly. She pauses for a minute outside the passenger door, clearly wanting to say something. Tim is tired. He doesn't want to argue with her; doesn't want her to ask him questions he's not prepared to answer. He just wants to go home.
"I think we need to talk about this, Tim," Tyra says finally. Quietly.
"About what, Tyra?" Tim sighs.
Tyra nods tightly. "Fine, Tim. Just . . . go. We'll talk later."
Tim nods. "Fine. G'night, Tyra," he barely glances at her as she walks away. He leans his head back against his seat, closing his eyes. He waits until he hears Tyra open her front door before opening his eyes and driving away.
He's relieved.