the car ride

My name is David Lime, and these are my final thoughts.

It's a little silly to be narrating them as a blog post, I guess. But that's the way I'm used to thinking through problems. Sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, dig out the heart of the matter and turn it around. Examine every side. Notice how I'm feeling.

I've been taking a mindfulness class at work. When I remember to go, it's really edifying. The instructor tells me I'm really making strides. I know that's just something they say, but I'm still proud. She's right, even if she has to say it no matter how I do.

Right now I'm feeling a lot of ways. Scared, confused, angry. Hard to tell which emotion is winning out. All because my girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, can't control herself. I've always known that about her. I used to find it really attractive, how she'd just say what she was feeling all the time. It's something I'm still working on.

Guess I'm out of time, now. These are my final thoughts because of the predicament I'm in. That predicament involves a roll of duct tape, a brick, and my 2002 Chevy Impala. Well, my mom's Impala, actually, but she's letting me drive it because the insurance is cheaper that way.

I can't actually see the brick, not anymore. I saw it in my girlfriend's, or ex's, hand when she went to place it on the gas pedal. Then she looked really surprised as the car sped off with me in it, like that wasn't exactly what she expected to happen. 'Let's drive to the river and talk,' she'd said. It was pretty hard to talk with my mouth taped shut.

It was my fault, really. I know, I know, 'violence isn't the answer' and all, but I guess I was pretty stupid. I didn't think she'd take it so hard -- we basically only talk over text anymore -- but breaking up with her that way was a bridge too far. Oh, yeah, I can see the bridge out the window, too. There isn't really that much bridge before the river, so I'm thinking this all pretty fast. All part of the skillset for working out my feelings in awkward situations.

I should be more upset, shouldn't I? My girlfriend, who's about to be my ex, or maybe already is, is about to have killed me. I think she's my ex, at least. It ought to kick in as soon as one person decides it's over. But maybe that's not how it works. Maybe you have to give the other person a chance to accept it first. At any rate, this car is going in the river, and then we'll be exes one way or the other.

I remember on Facebook once, back when we still used Facebook, we set our relationship status to 'It's Complicated', as a joke. But it was true, too, even if we didn't let our friends see. We fought a lot, back then. We've barely been fighting at all lately. I'd been thinking things were going pretty well. Hmm, now I'm having trouble remembering why I wanted to end it. Maybe it's the stress. That seems reasonable.

Ow! Oh, the car just hit a bump. I can hear the brick rattling back and forth. Did she place it wrong? Maybe it's an irregular brick. That'd be funny, wouldn't it? Saved by my girlfriend's failure to procure an evenly shaped brick. Well, it was her first time. Mistakes are to be expected.

If I survive this... listen to me. If. The hope is just oozing out of me now. I can't even move. If the car stops, I don't go in the water, what if she just comes back and finishes the job? Or is she going to keep acting surprised, and pretend she didn't mean to do it? What if this is the thing that saves our relationship?

No, no. This girl is trying to kill me. I can't look past that. Forgiveness is great, and moving on, but she's demonstrated she's a danger. The only way out is through, they say. 

Actually, I have no idea what that means.

The car tilts forward, and I lift into the air. Weightless. So the brick stayed on. Here comes the river. Some last words. I wish I had learned why people love sports. I wish I had held a baby that wasn't crying. I wish I had gotten to visit my friend's microbrewery. I wish I had tried harder at work. I wish I hadn't made my girlfriend so angry that she decided to murder me.

You always think there's going to be more time for this sort of stuff. You think you're going to get a cancer diagnosis and waste away for a few months, or decline gracefully into an old age that's practically like being dead already. I had a lot more blog posts to write.

There's a huge smack, and water starts coming in. I smack, too, straight into the seat in front of me. Something in my cheek cracks. I guess that is my cheek. It hurts, which is weird for that spot. My right leg is wedged under the passenger seat, now. It's getting wet. But the rest of me isn't.

I twist my body as much as I can, but all I can see is door and sky. Looking the other way, I can see the water level isn't rising, and the car isn't really angled anymore. I'm not sinking. How deep is this river, anyway?

There's a splashing sound, and my girlfriend tears the door open, ugly crying and shouting how sorry she is. Half a brick floats across the backseat and bumps into my knee. The sun is making a halo in her hair, and she smells like apples. I can't help but smile up at her, and she pulls me into a warm embrace, not even recoiling at how soggy I am. I wince when she presses her cheek against mine, but it's worth it.

'I love you,' she says, meaning it. I can tell.

'Will you...marry me?' I ask, taking some time to adjust my mouth so the words come out normal. A couple of my teeth seem to be in the wrong spot.

'Yes!' she yells, still crying. Women can be so emotional.

She tears off the duct tape, which is pretty painful on my face, and helps me sit up. Looking around at the car, I get a sinking feeling. Not a literal one, the car isn't going anywhere, but in my stomach.

'My mom is going to be pissed.'

My girlfriend keeps kissing me on the cheek. I notice I'm confused. I mentally scroll up a few paragraphs.

'Did you just...try to kill me?' I ask, carefully keeping any emotion from my voice. It's not productive.

She goes really quiet, and the kisses stop. The brick bumps against my shin this time.

'I wasn't trying to kill you,' she whispers, 'I just wanted to scare you. It got... out of hand.'

I nod slowly at that. It had, indeed, gotten out of hand. 'Well, that's settled,' I say firmly. 'Please don't do that again.'

She nods, almost crying again. She helps me out of the car, and we walk to the riverbank.

'Oh, your sundress, it's all dirty,' I comment, seeing the hem of her favorite dress all messed up by the river water.

She frowns. 'It's nothing. Don't be silly. How's your face?'

I let her dote on me for a while. This kind of fussing makes her feel like she's being useful, and letting her feel that way is important. I focus on the ruined car. It was really old. She'd probably done my mom a favor. I'd need to take the bus for a while, but that wasn't so bad.

Two birds land on the car's roof. They scan its peeling paint, looking for some morsel, and chirp at each other in disappointment when they find nothing but paint chips. They look so pretty, and perfectly suited for their purpose. Perfectly suited for each other. I feel a little better. They start to sing.

The car explodes, a sudden torrent of fire ripping up through the songbirds and into the sky, more of a column than a ball, like directed fury. It takes the rest of the car too, and in moments, as the heat wave gives me a sunburn, and steam rises from the river, my mom's Impala is reduced to a skeleton.

My girlfriend grips my wrist tightly as it burns.  'Oh my God!' she cries. 'I'm so glad I saved you!' She throws both arms around me, and goes to jump into my arms, like we used to do. I sway, my legs losing their ability to stand, and collapse to the ground, hitting my head on a cool, smooth river rock--