The car is dead silent for the first hour of the trip. Every time Elliot attempts to turn on any type of music, Cline vetoes it, so eventually he just gives up. The entire thing has started to give me a headache anyway, so I have taken to staring out the window and counting the numbers on license plates.
Everything must add up to seven. Any way that I can force the numbers to sequence themselves, I do.
HBC6033
6 and 3+3 = 6
6x6=36
3x6=18
8-1=7
An old rusted truck pulling a trailer eases alongside us before picking up enough speed where I can see the plate and start all over again. I don’t even know how much time has passed as I continue to do this, but when Elliot reaches over and places his hand on mine, I realize that my fingers have been busy at work on my shorts. I’ve picked away a large chunk of frayed denim that now lies in a clump on his seat.
He pats my hand and keeps his eyes on the road as he hits the right blinker and pulls into a gas station. “I need to fill up.”
As discreetly as possible, I scoop up the remnants of my destruction and palm them so I can throw it away as I walk by the trash can on my way inside the convenience store. Inside the bathroom, under the unflattering fluorescent lighting, and amidst the smell of years of uncleaned piss, I stare at my reflection. There’s a huge possibility that I’m going to find out who I am. That I’ll finally know whose brown eyes these are. Who this round nose came from. Whose lips in some lineage caused a cupid’s bow to be so deep?
There’s a possibility that I’ll find out that the stuff inside my head isn’t just mine alone.
I could find answers, and the thought scares me so much I have to brace myself on the sink for a moment before I remember how gross it is, and then I wash my hands a few times for good measure, just in case.
The cashier eyes me warily as I walk the aisles looking for snacks for the road. I wonder if Cline still eats King Size Snickers and chases it with a Dr. Pepper like he used to back in school. As far as Elliot goes, I realize I don’t know what kind of snacks he likes, but some Reese’s Pieces might make him laugh. So I gather an armful of items and carry them to the register, a small smile on my lips as the cashier takes in all the sugar and beef sticks I’ve accrued.
“Road trip,” I state.
His thick cheeks puff out as he rings up each item one by one. “Good choices.”
Just the one affirmation that perhaps I’ve done something right makes me feel a little lighter as I walk back toward the pump.
“Are you in love with her or something? Because I’ve never seen you act like this before.”
I know Elliot’s trying to be quiet, but I’m close enough to hear him ask the question.
“No.” Cline is adamant, and I go still, standing behind the partition, waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. “I don’t love her. I don’t even like her. As a person or as anything. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. She will ruin your entire life, dude. One minute we were best friends, and the next minute I could have been a tree in her yard for all she cared. She acted like none of us existed anymore. Her friends. Even her family. She has a track record—that’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
Elliot puts the gas cap back on and closes the lid. I can see his hands from where I am hiding, and they disappear as he shoves them into his pockets and leans back against the car. I pull my body closer to the partition to listen.
“Let me just remind you that she threw a rock at your bedroom window that day, asking for you to come to her party, not me. I just happened to be there. She came looking for you. Maybe you’ll get over yourself soon and find out why she was trying to find you instead of being such an asshole all the time.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Dr. Stark is staring at me from her chair, her pencil poised over her notebook as she waits for me to answer. She’s asked what the next step toward forgiveness is.
“Asking,” I reply.
Eyes open now, I make a big deal about shaking the bag and causing as much noise as I can, like I’ve just come around the corner. I dip my hand into the bag, and without even looking him in the eye, I press the candy bar and soda into Cline’s chest and continue walking around the car to get back inside.
The six-hour drive ends up being closer to seven, because Audrey’s bladder is the size of a peanut. Maybe a cashew. Also, at some point, once we crossed the border into Alabama, I had to pull the car over and get out just to distance myself from their constant bickering. As I stood and watched traffic go by, I made the decision to render Cline’s character mute in my game. Maybe sew his lips shut myself. Perhaps I’d just erase the mouth all together.