Backseat Drivers

Last Word

They dropped Roy off first. Empty fish-tank wedged under his arm and a daisy from Cindy tucked behind his ear, he held a goofy smile on his face as he bent down to fist-bump Sean through the rolled down window.

"I expect to hear from you shortly, Sean-o," he said, earning a hearty wink from the driver. 

"At your command, Mr King." 

"Take care, mate," Calum called through the window, and Cindy too leant forwards to share a similar phrase.

Now shuffled up, Aika slowly wound down the window and held a longing arm outside as she tilted her head mockingly. 

"My darling, you mustn't forget me. Promise you won't." 

"How could I ever, sweetheart?" Roy replied, reaching out so that his fingers just grazed Aika's and she smiled as the car whirred in indication of its passing. Just before it began to accelerate, she winked wolfishly, a seductive humour on her face - and then she was gone, the car trundling down the road, followed by Roy's laughter. Aika's barely audible mirth faded away with a disconcerting bang of the exhaust on Sean's car, and Roy watched as the four of them disappeared into the low sunset, the infamous Lancia evanescing into an orange mist.

Cindy was next. Calum stepped out of the car courteously, and Sean and Aika were left with a brief, humorous silence as they waited for the couple's parting to finish. After a minute or two of insincere, murmured promises of calls and adoration, Calum re-entered the car, this time taking Cindy's place in the front. She too leant down by Sean's window to thank him for the trip with her famously angelic smile and a light laugh - an unintentional seduction swimming in the blue. 

"Stay classy, Cindy," Sean smiled, waiting for Aika to stick her head out of the window and say her goodbyes, before once more revving the car back onto the open road. 

Then there was three left - two boys in the front, and one Aika in the back, all laughter and animation, the dying embers of their trip. Aika could feel a strange sickness in her stomach with each familiar passing tree, each trace of suburbia that rang close to home. Something had happened on the trip, an altered consciousness inside her that echoed Sean's bursting desire to defy everything. She wasn't finished with the drugs - and most likely, neither was Sean, but not much else would bring her back to the same feeling as the past few days. Sean Kiersey, this is all your doing! She didn't want to go home. She wanted to yell at Sean to slam the breaks down, turn the car around, and go speeding away from the setting sun - back towards a piercing daylight, but she didn't. In retrospect - she could have easily. All they needed to do was restock, and everyone in that car would have been on board. But there's a point where reality comes for you - and you may as well surrender with your head high than get caught out in the gutter. 

She could never remember what it was that started it, but for the rest of the journey they were cackling in hysterics, clutching at their stomachs in hilarious pain and gasping for breath - Sean guffawing and trying to navigate the street-names through tear-brimmed eyes after settling down after a laughing fit - only to burst back into peals at a comment from Calum or Aika. Time is supposed to go fast when you enjoy yourself, but in this moment it felt like they'd been laughing for their whole lives. The same could be said for the trip - the few days suspended in an alternate, timeless bubble had felt almost unbreakable. Almost.

Finally, the car came to a stop, gently bumping with finality - though the engine continued to whir. Calum and Aika lived only ten houses away from each other. That was something they'd realised during their convulsive glee in the car, and so they both undid their seat-belts, but this time they didn't get straight out. Aika looked through the window at the house. A car parked in the driveway. A fence, so similar to all the others in the neighbourhood it seemed to run in one long line. A tree. Normality. As they sat silently for a moment, Sean lit a cigarette. Then Calum turned to him, his eyebrows raised humorously. 

"Same time next week?"

Sean grinned through his cigarette, turning to his friend. 

"I'll be calling tomorrow." 

With a satisfied wink, Calum opened his door, and slowly Aika followed, a reluctance in her movement.  Once out, she shut the door, and moved to Sean's window, something of a tradition now. 

"If you don't call me," she said, malevolence in her voice - and instantly Sean dropped his head in laughter, used to Aika's antics. "I will personally hunt you down and destroy all of your possessions, starting with your Usual Suspects poster and ending with your Bowie CDs. Understood?"

"Crystal."

"Good," Aika said, still scrutinising Sean's expression as Calum laughed in the background, before taking his place beside her. She stood back, understanding, as Sean then began to exchange quiet words with Calum. She didn't hear what they said - she doubted it was of importance to her, but as Calum leaned back he was smiling, his eyes lit up. 

"You wild, wild boy," he said. Sean grinned, before the car let out a low growl and sprung back into a sharp energy. 

"I'll see you," he said - and that was it. That was the last thing he said before his car took off, driving towards the foggy pink of the setting sun, carrying an unmistakeable spirit with him. It was sort of in that moment, as she and Calum stood there on the street watching him drive away that Aika realised it wasn't the trip all of them would miss. Windows rolled down, 'The Ronettes' blaring from the car stereo, their saving grace of youth was becoming a fainter and fainter object in the distance. Would he call? Who knows. He was the epitome of unpredictability - headed either for glory or destruction.

"Do you think we'll see him again?" she asked - not turning to Calum, for neither of them wanted to miss the last moments of being able to see the car. 

"Maybe in a couple years," came the wry reply. Never had an answer to a question filled Aika with such excitement and disappointment at the same time. Finally, the rich fuchsia clouded sight of the Lancia, and the vibrant music faded into the quiet, unexceptional air of home.