A Thousand Ways To Run

Chapter 22

MInutes passed with my bare cheek pressed to the glass before I became aware that we’d been driving in circles- cruising- through the streets of Georgetown. I tried to wipe my eyes and hoped they weren’t showing too many signs of tears that I’d shed vigorously like a river. We passed by an open park with rotting wooden benches and playground equipment surrounded by fresh wood chippings. A little boy slid down one of the winding, closed-in slides and came out giggling. The only person watching him was a man on one of the benches, cell phone glued tight to his ear.

The local public outdoor swimming pool was next, not yet filled with water or given a fresh coat of paint in too long. Strips of blue paint hung like dead plants off the sides, weeds growing in between cracks in the cement.

I shifted in my seat, flicking my hair over more of the left side of my face, making it impossible for him to see me. It was odd to think that in a few months everything would all be completely different, filled with screaming children and too tan lifeguards twirling their keys lazily. I could almost smell the chlorine and sunscreen through closed doors of the van.

Then we went past the high school, announcements about the next tennis match displayed on the marquee. One room in the back still had its lights on along with one lonely car in the parking lot, a busy teacher probably lay behind the brick.

Then the fire department, a cemetery, and dozens of places of worship.

I lost it.

“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, breaking away from the glass I’d been leaning my head on and looking at him directly. My outburst didn’t startle my dad, he continued as I assumed he had been. Staring straight ahead, posture relaxed, hands at ten and two on the wheel- too picture perfect to be anything but photoshopped to hell.

He swallowed and responded without any hint of anger or irritation, only adding to mine. “I’m driving.”

“Oh my God!” I yelled in frustration.

He glanced at me and to the road, “You know Charlotte, we really should talk about all this swearing business.”

“Let’s not and say we did.” I sassed back, taking my hand off my head from its former position of pinching the bridge of my nose. Both my hands were clenched with stress and his stupid aimless driving wasn’t helping either. I was almost sure I had seen a particular fire hydrant one too many times. “What are you doing driving around this town? Can we like, go home or something? Anything but this.”

I hated looking out the window and seeing the ghost lives of people I could have known, places I could have gone with my friends or had my first kiss or been picked up for prom or even gotten drunk at some lacrosse player’s weekly house party. I didn’t know who I would have been. And all the daydreaming and the sightseeing was seriously taking a toll on me.  I felt like a shrunken person put into a doll house, trying to get someone to hear me and react, trapped in a strange place that looks like it should be familiar.

And then my dad did the unthinkable.

He rolled down the fucking window.

The breeze rolled in and a content smile slipped onto his features, like we were on some sort of Sunday afternoon drive. I did not know that man anymore.

“When you want to start talking, start. I’m not holding you back.”

I sighed in irritation, “I want-” inserting a long pause for emphasis, “to go home.”

His smile grew to satisfaction. “So, you call that place home, now.”
“Yeah,” I spoke quickly, filling the beat before he went on.

“You’ve never done that before.” Dad was full-on grinning as he put on the blinker to go through main street, extra slowly, only to my enjoyment.