I snuck glances at Joseph's side profile. A hand was situated at his chin, occasionally sliding over his mouth when his bottom lip wasn't captured between his teeth. It didn't take a genius to see that he was stressed; the furrow of his brows and prominent jaw line spoke volumes.
I fiddled with my hands, my eyes shifting between the road ahead of us and Zay who was strapped into his car seat in the back. I had thought the car ride and Joseph's music would wake him up, but it didn't. I envied my son's obliviousness and ability to sleep so peacefully despite everything that was going on. I watched the other cars in the left and middle lanes fall behind, and the cars in front of us indicate left to allow Joseph to pass as he sped down the motorway. Whilst my small Clio could barely handle 80 mph, Joseph's BMW smoothly glided at 100, pushing more.
I tore my eyes away from him and focused on the long road ahead. I didn't know where we were going, but for some reason I had trusted Joseph when he'd woken me up and told me to get ready. I could hardly say that he slept over as he spent most of the night on the phone out on my balcony. He was even going to leave shortly after in a rage, but for his own safety I asked him to stay. I was supposed to drop Isaiah off to my parent's house because I had a seminar in the morning and an afternoon shift at work, but that was no longer happening. We had stopped off at his first and I stayed in the car with Zay in case Remy was still there. Joseph came back out moments later with a new set of clothes and large gym bag which he shoved in the boot.
Now, here we were on the motorway on our way to God knows where. I looked at the signs which read Dartford, and failed to put two and two together. A part of me, the naïve, hopeless, and lonely part of me, trusted that when I was with Joseph I was safe. The other part, the sensible, protective, and rational part, knew that I shouldn't be so foolish as to follow a guy I honestly didn't really know that well, to a random place without questioning it. The two sides of me fought as I sat in the passenger seat of Joseph's car, playing with my fingers, gnawing on my bottom lip.
The latter won.
"Joseph," I spoke up. He looked at me briefly so I knew that he was listening. His face was just as tense as it was this morning when he had woken me up. He had barely said two words to me since he started driving. "Where are we going?" I asked.
At first I thought he didn't hear me as he continued on driving, his speed seeming to increase with each second that passed by. The trap music that blazed from all of the speakers of the car, drowned out the deafening silence between us as I waited for my answer.
"Joseph," I pushed.
"My mum's house," he finally said, and I swear I forgot how to breathe.
My mouth opened and closed and a few incoherent sounds came out before I finally gathered my thoughts. "Your mum?"
"That's what I said."
"Why?"
Joseph barely spoke about his personal life. There was so much that I didn't know about him. The only reason I knew of his mother was because of the painting in his guest room. If it wasn't for that, I would have thought that he was an orphan with no family whatsoever.
"Because I need to see her quickly." His tone made it seem like my questions were bothering him.
"So why do I need to be there?"
"Because, Lola."
He tried to leave it there as if his answer was enough to end the conversation.
