Loss, Parenthetical: Part V
They were somewhere west of Lincoln , north of Denver
Sarah was driving. Jaime slouched in the passenger seat, doing it again; hands balled into fists and pressed to his temples, eyes closed, gently biting his top lip, brow furrowed, left leg slack, right one tapping.
The humming was coming from him.
This was just another highway on their path to nowhere. Grasslands stretched all around them, forever, nothing but greens and golden browns and occasionally spots of red and purple as flower beds blurred past on the road shoulders. It was hideous.
Jaime stopped humming and opened his eyes, wide--an act that coincided with a dramatic intake of air through the nostrils, a straightening of the legs and elevation added to his posture. He liked to act as though he had just quickly surfaced from a deep sleep and was now here, in the moment again, refreshed and possessing of a new understanding of the world. Sarah hated when he did this, thought briefly of swerving across I-80 into oblivion, indeed jerked the wheel ever so slightly, then, thinking better, she quickly adjusted, pacified.
Jaime, now returned to this world, gave her a look.
"Mouse," she offered.
Jaime shrugged, accepting, and surveyed the world outside the window. It was grassy, he decided, and moving by much too fast. He resumed rubbing his temples, but this time he was not in a trance.
"Where did you go this time?"
"I... it's relative. Forward. Forward, I think."
"I see." Lying piece of shit. "But, like, as in The Future, right?"
Jaime just cleared his throat.
"...so forward, then."
"Forward... Forward... Friction..." Jaime grimaced. Desperately he pulled open the glovebox and rifled through, searching, until he found an expired bottle of aspirin, pulled the top off, tilted the bottle and tapped the side until two pills fell into his hand. He popped them into his mouth and looked around, slowly realizing the error of his choice. "Water?"
"No water, James. I've been driving sinceOmaha
James. She was mad at him again, he could tell. She thought she was subtle when she called him by the wrong name, as if she could disassociate him from his own temporal identity. Not likely. He started to bite down, but Sarah stopped him.
"You can't chew those."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, you just can't. They need to dissolve inside you, you won't absorb the medicine or something."
It didn't matter. Jaime was salivating by this point, and in another few moments he could just swallow the annoying pills. He did it. Sarah watched him.
"Gross," she said. Eyes back on the road. "Where are we going?"
"I saw the Salt Flats." An acidity rose in his throat, burning. They had been driving without a destination for weeks.
"...and?"
"You know 'And'." There was a shuffling sound inside of Jaime's head. "I just lost something."
"I'm sorry," Sarah said. She was, although less so every time she had to say it.
Jaime laughed, cold and brief. "Hey, can't say it matters to me." He closed his eyes again, began to hum.
"What are you doing? You said you would drive soon."
"I will. I just want to take something with me."
Sarah surveyed the Nebraskan countryside. It was still just grass. She didn't understand why he would want this. Any of this.
"I understand," she lied.
Sarah was driving. Jaime slouched in the passenger seat, doing it again; hands balled into fists and pressed to his temples, eyes closed, gently biting his top lip, brow furrowed, left leg slack, right one tapping.
The humming was coming from him.
This was just another highway on their path to nowhere. Grasslands stretched all around them, forever, nothing but greens and golden browns and occasionally spots of red and purple as flower beds blurred past on the road shoulders. It was hideous.
Jaime stopped humming and opened his eyes, wide--an act that coincided with a dramatic intake of air through the nostrils, a straightening of the legs and elevation added to his posture. He liked to act as though he had just quickly surfaced from a deep sleep and was now here, in the moment again, refreshed and possessing of a new understanding of the world. Sarah hated when he did this, thought briefly of swerving across I-80 into oblivion, indeed jerked the wheel ever so slightly, then, thinking better, she quickly adjusted, pacified.
Jaime, now returned to this world, gave her a look.
"Mouse," she offered.
Jaime shrugged, accepting, and surveyed the world outside the window. It was grassy, he decided, and moving by much too fast. He resumed rubbing his temples, but this time he was not in a trance.
"Where did you go this time?"
"I... it's relative. Forward. Forward, I think."
"I see." Lying piece of shit. "But, like, as in The Future, right?"
Jaime just cleared his throat.
"...so forward, then."
"Forward... Forward... Friction..." Jaime grimaced. Desperately he pulled open the glovebox and rifled through, searching, until he found an expired bottle of aspirin, pulled the top off, tilted the bottle and tapped the side until two pills fell into his hand. He popped them into his mouth and looked around, slowly realizing the error of his choice. "Water?"
"No water, James. I've been driving since
James. She was mad at him again, he could tell. She thought she was subtle when she called him by the wrong name, as if she could disassociate him from his own temporal identity. Not likely. He started to bite down, but Sarah stopped him.
"You can't chew those."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, you just can't. They need to dissolve inside you, you won't absorb the medicine or something."
It didn't matter. Jaime was salivating by this point, and in another few moments he could just swallow the annoying pills. He did it. Sarah watched him.
"Gross," she said. Eyes back on the road. "Where are we going?"
"I saw the Salt Flats." An acidity rose in his throat, burning. They had been driving without a destination for weeks.
"...and?"
"You know 'And'." There was a shuffling sound inside of Jaime's head. "I just lost something."
"I'm sorry," Sarah said. She was, although less so every time she had to say it.
Jaime laughed, cold and brief. "Hey, can't say it matters to me." He closed his eyes again, began to hum.
"What are you doing? You said you would drive soon."
"I will. I just want to take something with me."
Sarah surveyed the Nebraskan countryside. It was still just grass. She didn't understand why he would want this. Any of this.
"I understand," she lied.
0 TrackBacks
Listed below are links to blogs that reference this entry: Loss, Parenthetical: Part V.
TrackBack URL for this entry: http://www.howwearecurious.com/mt/mt-tb.cgi/108
Leave a comment