moon river ; g.d.

seven

We drove all around town and made circles around buildings just because he asked politely. Hed stare out the window like a young kid in a new city, a hand on the glass and everything. He'd watch the streetlights as we'd pass, and occasionally place both hands on the glass when he was really intrigued. I don't think he once looked out the window in front of him, and stayed gazing out of the one next to him, like he'd never seen this place before.

I began growing tired of driving and driving without a destination, but didn't mind it much. It was peaceful, really. I never take the time to just drive, I always have a place to go, things to do. I hate driving at night, but tonight was a little different. The sun was just starting to set, and it had just turned six o'clock. The winter weather made the sun set quicker and the sun rise slower.

"You act like you've never seen this place before," I said, raising my voice a little so he could hear me over the sound of wind pushing in through my open window.

"It sure feels like that," he replied, glancing at me from over his shoulder.

I smiled and looked forward to focus on the road, and spoke to him from now on without eye contact. "Are you hungry?"

"Always."

I took a left on Fleetwood Street and headed for the nearest McDonald's, the only fast food restaurant we really had in town. It was a small town, sure, but what it lacked in modernism it made up for in community. Everybody knew everybody, nothing stayed private very long, which isn't the fact I wanted to hear at a time like this. I'd like to believe I lived in a big city where word gets around about as fast as a fish on land.

I pulled into the drive through and counted the cash I had stored in my glove box. About twenty dollars, made up of fives and ones. I ordered mine, repeated his order, paid for it all, and we kept driving. He was digging around in the bag before I was even all the way out of the parking lot.

"I wanna show you something," I said, leaning up a little further in my seat.

He looked over at me with a mouthful of French fries and a large Dr. Pepper in his left hand. "Where?"

"You'll see." I took a few turns, drove down a few straight roads and we eventually arrived about three minutes later. I grabbed one of our two bags and my drink, and he followed me out of the car.

In front of us was a skate park. A skate park that had to be at least thirty years old, and had been completely worn down and graffitied beyond recognition. The ramps and the bars were still there, but might as well not have been. The cracks and the rust and the weeds had taken over what it once was, leaving only a shell, a skeleton. I made my way over to the bowl-shaped ramp, knowing he was following close behind me. I took a seat on the top, my legs dangling down at an almost elevated angle due to the shape of the surface.

"What's this?" He asked, sitting down next to me. He set the bag he was carrying down in between us, still rummaging around for fries.

"It's my spot," I replied, taking a drink of my Coke. I looked down to the side of me, and saw little initials carved into the concrete. Letters I couldn't quite read and little hearts circling them. "I come here all the time."

"It's..." he trailed off, looking around the open space. "Beautiful, really."

I knew he'd think so, but no one else probably would. "It's hideous, you don't have to be nice. It might've looked better if people hadn't painted all over it."

"I think it gives it character," he replied, taking a drink of Dr. Pepper.

It had character alright. I reached inside the bag for the medium fry, and held it in between my hands. I crossed my legs and stared down at the ramp below me, digging around in my thoughts for something say. I noticed I did this a lot. Even after spending all day talking to him like we'd been best friends for years, I found myself feeling small and vulnerable when there was silence between us. What else could I ask him? What else was I curious about?