I sat in the passenger seat of our jeep with my hair blowing mindlessly in the wind as we drove down a seemingly endless stretch of road. The roof was open, providing the perfect view of the setting sun as well as an incessant breeze that protected our sweating limbs and reddening faces from the Southern weather. Despite the stickiness lingering in the air, it didn’t keep his hand from sneaking over to my knee, rubbing it slowly and methodically, while keeping a one-handed grasp on the steering wheel. Peering at him under the shade of my wayfarers, I observed his appearance: tight, black skinny jeans, gray tank top, his hair pushed back from his forehead, and sporting slightly bigger Ray Bans than mine were. His curly hair was blowing in the wind, barely keeping its flawlessly composed style in the process while his eyes were fixed on the road in front of him. I was going to miss this; cruising down back roads in Harry’s jeep with the music blasting and the Georgia sunshine bathing our bodies in welcomed warmth.
He was selling his jeep soon to buy a more sensible and fuel-efficient, Honda Pilot, signifying our final transition into adulthood and ultimately, parenthood. Of course, we turned into adults legally when we turned eighteen, but we always held onto our youthful predisposition; always just a couple of kids driving through our twenties hopelessly living off of each other’s love. Our first step into true maturity occurred when we got married over three years ago, but we were still just messing around after that, still eating Ramen noodles and cereal most nights and making love on every surface of our new apartment whenever we saw each other. We finally really buckled down when our daughter, Charlotte, was born sixteen months ago and our Ramen noodle dinners were replaced with peas, carrots, apples, and corn so we could throw them in our baby blender while our sex life became almost non-existent compared to its previous glory. As Charlotte started feebly shuffling around our loft-style apartment, Harry and I realized that our home wasn’t suitable for a growing toddler, so, after much searching and debate, we bought a three bedroom house in ‘burbs outside the city so we could still keep our jobs in Atlanta. With the expenses of owning a home and raising a child, Harry and I have become financially stressed; constantly worrying that we’ll never have enough for our baby girl. Harry has been working double and overnight shifts at the hospital and while I’ve been off for summer vacation, I started doing private French tutoring for homeschooled children as well as adults. To earn a little more money, we started renting out the beach house we had, which was nice, but we really missed driving down there whenever we both had time off.
Now, we were driving to a lake house that Harry’s aunt and uncle had purchased in Florida sometime during the winter months. They knew that we were having a bit of a hard time, so they offered it to us for a weekend as a sort of a last hurrah before the summer days drew to a close and Harry sold the final symbol of his college youth. Harry broke his concentration from the highway to catch me aimlessly gazing at his form and smiled contentedly before turning his head forward.
“What’re you thinking about, babe?” he asked as he lightly smacked the top of my thigh as I winced at his playful hit.
“How aren’t you dying wearing those jeans? You didn’t even grow up here. How can you bear the heat?” I asked, laughing as I gave into my curiosity.
“I’ve lived here long enough,” he replied without breaking his forward-facing gaze, chuckling at my series of questions.
“You don’t even look like a dad with what you’re wearing,” I huffed, getting irritated out of nowhere at his appearance even though he always dressed like he was coming off tour with an indie rock band.
“What am I supposed to be wearing? You’re wearing short shorts that you had in college and a tank top from like, what, PacSun?” he exclaimed, his voice higher than normal with surprise running across his face from my sudden outburst. My mouth formed an “O” shape while simultaneously gasping at his assertion.
