RAINSTORM

Ch. 44

For the last time today, Hector closes the hood of his late grandfather's now restored Ford. Kicking off the mound of empty beer cans, he heads to the door and gets in behind the steering wheel.

Hector had finished two months' work in one week. It's all he could do to stay sane. Now that the restoration is over, he needs to start the next thing before his mind could become free enough to think about the things he's been trying to forget.

The ignition stutters the car to life. Keeping the break on, he presses the pedal. The wheels screech against the epoxy floor. Hector breathes in the smell of the burnt rubber, feeling the most alive he had been in a while.

He lets go of the break.

By the time Hector had reached the foot of the Warsow Hill, he had run over three red lights. He doesn't want to stop.

When the old car struggles to climb, Hector accelerates even more. He winds through the slower cars and soon enough everyone else is much farther behind him and he has the road to himself.

He misses the turn to the summit and heads straight for the cliff.

The car doesn't slow down, even when the edge becomes visible from the windshield.

He wants to test. Whether the car or himself, he doesn't know. But he wants to test if they can stop at the edge. Or if it'll be too late.

His spine straightens as the edge draws closer. His palms tighten over the steering's ridges. His gaze is on the line between the stones and the sky.

Twenty meters to the edge.

Then Ten meters.

At five, his phone rings, cutting through his trance. He hits the break. Inertia whips his torso forward. He hits his head. "Fuck," Hector mutters and angrily reaches for his phone to see who has ruined his dare.

When he sees the caller's name the folds on his forehead disappear, and so does the pain. Hector slides on the call, brings up his phone, and waits, holding his breath.

"Hector," Rachel's gentle voice falls into his ear.

Hector breathes.

"Hector?" Rachel repeats, after not hearing a response.

"Yeah," Hector says.

"Can we talk?" She says.

He wants to see her. But. "I thought you didn't want to even see my face."

Rachel stops pacing and slowly sits down on the chair in front of her desk. "I'm sorry," she quietly says, "I want to see you."

Hector closes his eyes and lets his head fall down behind over the headrest.

"Hector?" Rachel says, after not hearing a response again. She begins to think she had called him at the wrong time. "Should I call you ba—"

"I want to see you, too," Hector says. "But you didn't let me," he adds, referring to the time when he tried to see her at the school to apologize, but Rachel's friends told him she didn't want to see her.

This time Rachel doesn't respond.

"Where?" Hector says.

Rachel mentions the pizza place. "When are you free?" She asks.

"I'll be there in twenty," Hector says.

After the call is over. Rachel puts down her phone, feeling somewhat relieved. She looks at the computer screen on her desk. The browser is open, with over ten tabs on the topic of parental abuse. She's nowhere prepared to convince Hector to move out of his house. But ever since she had talked to the maid at Hector's house, what Rachel wants the most is to see him. Maybe once she sees him, she'll find the right words to say. Rachel closes the browser, shuts down the computer and gets up to get ready to see Hector.