terrible things - ashton irwin

forty five

Ashton told me to drive south, so I did. For once, no questions asked. I'd do anything he asked me, and I had to admit, the Mustang was a major step up from the truck. It had power steering, air-conditioning, and, according to Ashton, "an aftermarket Bose speaker system that costs more than a new Kia."  It just ate up the miles.

He was staring sleepily out the window now, watching the world go by the way I used to do.

"Have you noticed," he said once, "how this entire country is, like, in patterns? It goes city, then suburban sprawl, then farmland. And then city, suburban sprawl, farmland again..."

"And you're never more than fifty miles from a McDonald's," I joked.

"That's a relief," he answered.

Later that evening, after speeding through Delaware, Maryland, and half of Virginia, I pulled into a rest stop in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the humid twilight, I spread out our sleeping bags near the boarder of the trees. I didn't bother with a tent, because I didn't want to draw any attention our way. According to the strange logic of the interstate rest area system, sleeping is fine, but camping isn't. And although camping at a rest area would be pretty low on my list of crimes and misdemeanours, I saw no reason to be awakened by a cop tapping his flashlight on our tent pole.

I held out the Slim Jim I'd bought for Ashton at the last gas station, but he shook his head. "That Filet-O-Fish we had for dinner is sitting in my stomach like a ball of lead," he groaned.

"I think I'm going to have to sleep it off."

"I told you to order the salad," I said. "It was good."

He snorted. "Getting a salad at McDonald's is like going into Car Toys and coming out with a pencil sharpener." He slipped into the sleeping bag, not bothering to remove anything but the belt from his jeans.

"Well, I feel just fine," I said a bit huffily.

"Well, you don't have cancer," he snapped.

I sucked in my breath sharply and held it. In the silence that followed, I heard the crickets chirping and the rushing waves of cars passing by on the highway. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine it was the sound of the ocean.

I felt Ashton reaching for my hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have said that."

I turned to him, tears now wetting my cheeks. "What, we should just pretend that everything's all right? We should just believe what we want to believe? Is that what we should do, Ashton?"

He was quiet for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I don't know what we should do," he said softly. "Wake up and drive some more tomorrow. Try to laugh. Love each other. I mean, what else is there?"

"I'm scared," I whispered.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Lav," He bought my hand up to his lips and kissed it, right in the centre of my palm.

"Again, is that what we want to believe? I just feel like we're stumbling forward now, hoping for the best. I mean, where are we going? And where is the road map? The metaphorical one. I mean, the directions. LEGO sets come with directions. Temporary tattoos come with directions. Once I saw an entire Web page dedicated to telling you how to order coffee from Starbucks!"

"Really?"

"Yes! Step one is 'Decide what you want to order before your turn in line.' I'm like, oh, really? Wow! Thank you so much! I never would have thought of that."

Ashton was laughing now. I was glad I cheered him up, but I wasn't feeling any better. "Where are the directions for big things? Because I want them," I cried. "What are the instructions for, I don't know, life?"

Ashton's laugh slowly faded. "Lav, if we had directions, it wouldn't be life. It would be an assignment. Grunt work. Not knowing is a major part of the deal."

I knew he was right, but I didn't like it. Sighing, I scooted as close to him as possible, but the zippers of our sleeping bags kept us apart.

"'As far as the laws of mathematics refer to reality, they are not certain; and as far as they are certain, they do not refer to reality,'" I said.

"Huh?" said Ashton.

"Einstein," I said. "Mr. Hall had that written at the top of his chalkboard."

"I like it," Ashton said.

"Well, I want certainty," I said.

I felt like Ashton and I were caught between two different worlds. There was the world we'd been living in, a world of freedom, beauty, and okay, yes, utterly wonderful and terrible irresponsibility, and then there was the darker, sadder world that I sensed we were about to enter. I wanted to know how to navigate it.

Ashton tilted his head closer to mine. "You can out it on your Christmas list."

I turned away. "Don't patronise me. I don't even know where we're driving to."

Ashton rolled over and stared up at the sky. It was a deep, velvety blue, and little pinpricks of stars were appearing, more and more every minute.

"Here'a certainty," he said. "I love you, Lavender Moore. And I will never not love you, for the rest of my life."

The tears same again, and I didn't bother to wipe them away. "I love you," I whispered. "For the rest of my life."

We kissed, wrapping our arms around each other snd holding on tight. And then, exhausted, we said good night and closed our eyes to sleep.

Laying there in the summer night, it was almost as if I could feel the earth moving beneath us, turning on it's axis. And as I listened to the crickets singing to each  other, I wondered if the rest of my life and the rest of Ashton's life meant two entirely different lengths of time.

How do you know anything for sure? I thought. But I knew the answer to that already. You don't.

Finally, I feel asleep. In the middle of the night, Ashton and I rolled towards each other, our arms crossing. The night seemed to hold us, too, in a big, soft dark embrace.

Ashton's voice was low and groggy. "Maybe we should get married," he said.

I couldn't speak; my heart was too full. Full of joy and surprise, and futility, too, because they don't let you do that at sixteen. I put my head on his chest, wishing I could melt into him entirely. The best I could do was match my breath to his long, steady breaths. In a moment, I realised that he was asleep again.

It was possible he hadn't even been truly awake in the first place.

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word count - 1152

Just a smol authors note to say that this book only has about 10 chapters left :( I've finally got the ending completely planned and I can't wait for you guys to read on. Thank you for the continuous support xox