Pervade and Faint

Chapter 22

Just the slightest pressure of my foot heaved the car all the way to a hundred miles per hour.
"It's going to take us forever", I said.
"Not if you keep a persistent consistency with this pace", said Cindy looked at the meter.
"So you had all of this preplanned?" I asked.
"Obviously", she replied, with great aplomb.
I slowed the car down a bit. The traffic was getting slightly viscous.
"Oh! So that's why my bag weighs a hundred pounds", I exaggerated.
"I can't believe it took you so long to realize", she said, a bit sassy.

Cindy turned on a song. I didn't know a single line of it, but she knew every line by heart. She even knew the time duration of all songs.
"I didn't know you were a music lover", I said, through the music.
"Music attached to me like a parasite when I was ten years old. Still attached", she said and lowered the volume.
"But I don't remember the last time you listened in front of me", I said, trying to imagine her listening to music in her room.
"I still love music. But I never listen in the university", she said.
"And why is that?" I asked.
She shrugged lazily, reclined her seat to a comfortable position and shut her eyes (She apologized for turning on the song before she slept, because mom had passed away, and we were listening to music).
__________

Cindy fell asleep after a few hours. I was also getting pretty sleepy, eyes ajar. But I knew that I still had enough energy to ride for a few more hours. I focused on the road as well as the scenery, which was just side by side. I stopped to pay the toll at Delaware Gap Bridge. The water splashed and played under the remarkably architected bridge. The reflection of the sun on the water was casting a shiny sparkle. The water was shimmering like gold. I was wondering what I was supposed to do at Cindy's place. I was nervous to meet her parents. Her father was a mayor and a businessman, according to her. My dad also worked in Madison Avenue as an export and import manager. He made some good money over there. He stabilized himself and bought a house in New York. My dad was probably not a mayor, but he was definitely an industrious and loyal man. And I loved him for who he was. I really missed my dad. I wanted to call him. But an awkward fear pulled me back. A medley of fear and guilt.
But I also felt bad for dad as well. Mom was the only person my person dad had ever loved in his life. Although, it was an arrange marriage, but dad loved mom with a great passion. His eyes reflected a bright joy whenever he caught sight of her. I wondered how he felt, to lose his wife, or actually, his life. The world fell out his feet. And what was harder than that was that he had to live in that world.
__________

Cindy woke up and coughed.
"Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"Back facing New York", I informed. She thought of it for a while.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, elongating her eyeballs, trying to get her eyes au fait with the sunlight.
"Yeah, what about you?" I asked.
"Famished", she answered and got herself busy with her disheveled hair.
"I'll stop at the next exit", I said.
Cindy pulled her hair into a perfect ponytail. She did it with one hand, dexterously. And the awesome thing was that she had a ponytail in the hand with which she had pulled her hair into the ponytail (Yes, I was looking at her).
"Are you okay?" asked Cindy, sympathetically.
"Yeah I'm fine", I said, even though I was knackered by then.
"Do you want me to drive?" she offered.
I entered into the next exit.
"If you want to..." I said.
Cindy searched for something on her phone. She searched for place to eat. The nearest place was a Subway, which at a distance of three and a half miles. There was also a bar, which was just a mile away. But we were definitely not going to a bar.
I caught sight of the Subway sign.
"Do you want to make a drive-thru or..." I asked. She thought of it for a while.
"We'll stop", she suggested.
"I also have to use the bathroom."

There was a lot of space in the small parking lot. I parked the car and we headed in. Cindy went straight to the bathroom, while I sat at a table. I stretched in my chair for a while. My shoulders were stiffening and I really needed some rest. The power of the sun was being suppressed by the shadowy evening. Along the highway, there were trees, lined in a beautiful sequence.

Cindy and I prepared our sandwiches. My sandwich was filled with tuna and pickles. The pickles crunched in my mouth, dissolving a nice and sour taste, which lingered in my mouth for a while. The lettuce was fresh and crunchy. Cindy had a lot of onions in her sandwich, while I tried my best to stay far away from onions. I avoided them like a contagious virus.

We finished our sandwiches and drinks and re-embarked in the car. Cindy and I changed positions. I reclined my seat and shut my eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the engine (it was widely better when someone else drove), with my hands on my lap, instead of that steering wheel.
______________

After what seemed to be hibernation, I woke up. The night was dark, just a silver moon hanging in the black sky. A few starts were also taped to the sky.
"You woke up", said Cindy, without even looking at me.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Don't worry about it. There's a whole world left", she deadpanned. She seemed irritated. She probably wasn't enjoying the silent ride. I sensed that she wanted to have a conversation. We started to talk about random stuff. She told me a childhood story of hers. I told her how austere my childhood was, nothing jubilant. She seemed to understand the tediousness of my childhood.

"Childhood is the most amazing thing that can ever happen", she said.
"Definitely", I agreed.
"We frolic only in adolescence", she said.
"And do you know why?" she asked.
Instead of letting me answer her question, she quickly answered it herself.
"Because youth has wings", she said.
"Youth is gelignite", I added, wondering whether it if even fitted or not.
We talked about random stuff for awhile, trying to kill our time. Somehow the conversation found its way to poetry.

"Who's your favorite poet?" I asked.
She thought of it for a while.
"I'm not really fond of poetry", she answered.
"What about you?" She asked.
"Not much. But I know someone who really loves poetry", I said, thinking of someone. Someone...
"Who's your favorite poet?" she asked.
I smiled, my thoughts migrating far away.
"Allama Iqbal", I answered, hastily.
"Who is that?" she asked.
"He's also known as the poet of East. A really famous poet", I answered.
"And why do like him?" she asked.
Another smile played on my lips.
"Because..."