"I'm Not Crazy"

XX.

Riley didn't like driving.

This fact hadn't surprised me. It was a more expected idea. I was actually significantly more shocked when he'd offered to drive us to Redding at all, because I hadn't expected that Riley would have a drivers license. I'd never seen him drive, nor had he showed any interest in the prospect. He actually talked openly about his distaste for cars, especially whenever we had to take ooh-bears anywhere in the city. Riley didn't even own a car.

"Bryn thought I needed something to make me feel more accomplished in life," Riley had explained when I questioned why he'd bother with it. "Apparently graduating from rehab wasn't enough for her."

He'd only had the license for about a year. He'd learned at the insistence of his sisters nagging. It was her car, a silvery blue Prius, that he was using for our journey.

We started things out rather quietly. I gave Riley the address, which I'd had to procure from my mother because I did not actually know exactly where she now lived. Riley worked us through Los Angeles traffic almost silently in stark contrast to his regular commentary during our adventures in the city. He was focused and somewhat nervous, driving slightly slower than most of the cars around us. It was clear that he didn't drive all that often.

Then we were driving up I5 and the silence became uncomfortable.

I can't tell you for sure whether it was real. Riley was crafty like that in his approach to me. He didn't let it show when he caught on to things. He could be calm and stoic about minor conflict. He could sit in discomfort.

Unfortunately I was not like that. I was sleep deprived, and suspicious.

The silence became oppressive. It pushed out against the walls of the car. It smothered me. It became so strong that I had to then believe that Riley was upset with me. How could I invite him on this stupidly long road trip and then douse him in uncomfortable silence? Wasn't it my job as the passenger to keep him entertained while he drove? Wasn't there rules like that? I was supposed to keep conversation. I was supposed to be acting like a friend.

The silence permeated for so long that I didn't even know how to change it. We made it an hour into our journey. I thought about speaking multiple times, but my chest just became tight. What was I supposed to even say?

"Sometimes people just don't want to talk," Riley had said before taking me to the beach.

And I then remembered my sanity.

I took deep breaths and looked at the passing scenery as we drove. I tried to remind myself that Riley was kind, and if he wasn't kind, then he was at least known to me as a tolerant person.

"So tell me about these people?" Riley eventually broke the silence to ask me.

"Who?"

My eyes snapped to him. His eyes were still on the road. He was smirking. He looked proud of himself.

"What do you mean who?" He laughed.

His tone was easy going. I would never be able to guess if he'd had thoughts about my internal battle. Did he know my hands were sweaty? Did he know why? Could he read my stupidly frazzled mind?

"Your family!" He added in clarification. "The people that have you all worked up over going to see them."

"Oh," I said, wiping my palms on my jeans. "Oh, they're... I don't know."

"You don't know," Riley echoed me.

"It's complicated," I said. I had almost preferred the insanity of my silence.