CHECKERED FLAG - c.l [2]

Dreaming

Charles didn't let me know where we were going as I got into the Alfa Romeo, the back seats were down and there were suitcases I didn't know what the contents held.

We were driving out of Monaco, heading towards the mountains as we had drifted off the main road now, the car twisting and turning around the bends at an impeccable speed, Charles not taking his eyes off the road.

I had my knees up to my chest, leaning against the door, my head resting on the back of the chair as I looked over at him.

Both his hands on the steering wheel as his eyebrows flinch while he concentrates, his chest rising up and down slowly under his white linin shirt; the windows were cracked ever so slightly, but now we were high into the mountains and the cooler air hit our warm breaths the windows started to fog up.

"Where are we going?" I asked softly, looking around at the empty landscape, snow glistened on the top of the mountain peaks, a gentle cloud carrying them out of view.

"I thought we agreed on no questions?" he raises an eyebrow at me, glancing away from the straight road ahead for a split second, my heart fluttering lightly as his eyes met mine.

I nodded, looking down at the book on my lap I had been trying to read but the motion sickness was real as we kept on making sudden turns, higher and higher into the snowy mountains.

The music in the car was low enough I could still hear the sound of Charles downshifting every so often, overtaking the few cars that we did see.

We turned off the main road and onto a bumpy rocked road, leading down the side of the mountain.

A few tall pine trees were dotted around, the long driveway concealed by them, at the end of it sat a lodge, the type you would see on a postcard from Canada.

"This was my dad's hideaway, he came up here in the last few months he was alive, hiding away from all of us for some peace and quiet," Charles spoke as he pulled up in front of the house, parking the car but not turning the engine off.

His hands fall to his lap as he looks up at the tall building, a soft amount of snow littered on the roof but was starting to trickle down the gutters in streams of water as it melted.

I put my feet down off the seat, sitting up straighter, admiring the house and its size.

There was a wrap-around porch with a swing looking out at the vast terrain, the hill dipping down and off the side of the mountain.

"I haven't been here since he passed," he says into the silence, now turning the car off, the heating went with it too and a chill crossed over my bare shoulders.

I wrapped my arms around myself as I open the door, stepping out into the snow, my Ugg's crunching under the ice.

I grab my hoodie from the backseat, lunging it over my head before the hair on my arms can stand up.

Looking back, Charles was still in the car, his hands still on his lap as he looked out towards the front door where there were cobwebs on the handles, showing me it had been a long time since someone came up here and did some spring cleaning.

I walk around the car to the driver's door, opening it gently.

He drags his eyes away from the door, looking at me as silver lined his waterline and my heart broke ever so slightly.

"We don't have to stay here," I say softly, placing my hand on his shoulder, he shudders under my touch, and I remove my hand scarcely.

"No, I want you to see this place," he now climbs out the car, his white linin shirt was definitely not keeping him warm, but he didn't reach for a jumper as he took the front porch steps two at a time.