The Retribution Chronicles

M i r i a m | e i g h t e e n

A five pence coin sprang into the air, twirled, flipping once, twice, six times, then settled in the palm of Wes' hand. Miriam held her breath and glanced at it. Heads he drove, tails she did. Usually she prayed for heads, chanting silently until the outcome revealed if her pleas were answered. But to have Wes drive all the way to Daniel's felt like a cruel trick, so she switched her pre-drive ritual and silently screamed tails. But, alas, it was heads. Gleaming, traitorous heads.

Neither Miriam nor Wes said anything, leaving her to shuffle towards the passenger seat while he snatched the keys from the hood of the car and slipped inside. "I really should drive," Miriam eventually said.

Wes shrugged and clipped his seatbelt, rearranging the band of polyester stretched across his chest for a second too long. "The coin has spoken," he said.

"But—"

"The coin."

"I know, it's just—"

"The fucking coin, Miriam."

She froze, locked in place, and slowly came to while Wes dropped the keys into his lap and sighed, almost sucking the shock straight out of the air. "Sorry," he said, plain and simple. "I just don't want to go."

On the one hand Miriam wanted to ask why he agreed to, but on the other she felt guilty enough to let his contradiction rest. So she reached for the keys and said, "Then let me—"

"But you," he interrupted, "do, so we're going to go and we're going to do this right. If that means flipping a coin to decide who drives and stopping at McDonalds even though it's only two hours and playing your stupid road trip playlist, then so be it. And then, when we get to Daniel's, if it means being nice to Ade, I'm game."

Miriam opened her mouth, but Wes raised a hand, forcing her lips to smack shut.

"I'll do it," he said. "If he makes you happy, you know I'll do it." There was a pause, a moment, then: "Does he make you happy?"

Sincerity laced Wes' voice, warming it so much so that the earlier frost collected in a lukewarm puddle at his feet and Miriam was left with the overwhelming desire to tell the truth. Except she couldn't. Wouldn't. At least she didn't think she would.

"He's honest," she said, offering a truth. "It's nice."

"But does he make you happy?" Wes eyes were piercing, insisting. They practically bore a hole straight through Miriam's chest.

"I don't know," she sighed, "we only just met."

"Fair enough." Wes glanced up at the roof. "Could he make you happy then?" he asked.

Miriam bit her lip. It was a trick question. Of course he could make her happy, that is under different circumstances. Ade was charming, funny, sexy as hell; he was the perfect concoction to bring any girl to her knees, including Miriam. But under these circumstances, where a potential caramel macchiato was at stake alongside her reputation, happiness didn't fit in the equation. And yet, Wes said could, not will, or is, but could. A possibility. A maybe. And there was always space for a maybe, so Miriam nodded, and Wes stuck the keys in the ignition, slowly reversing out of the parking space and driving straight towards what Miriam feared would be the weekend from hell.

Wes didn't speak the entire journey save for asking Miriam what she wanted at McDonalds. Even when he insisted on paying for their order, he did so silently, pushing away Miriam's card rather than simply saying something. In turn, Miriam focused on the music, chowing down on her nuggets and texting Abi who sent minuet by minuet updates of the absolute crazy which was unfolding at Daniel's country retreat. She didn't think too hard about the way Wes glared at the road or how he flinched every time she shifted in her seat, she couldn't. Equally she couldn't think strategy for this weekend, somehow doing so made this whole thing between her and Wes feel all the worse.