Beautiful. The word sounds in his head every time he looks at her. It fills his mind like the peal of a cathedral bell with ringing force that nearly drives him to his knees. In daylight, in the dim glow of a television, and especially here, in the blue light coming from his dash…
Just looking at her makes his chest ache.
“If you love something set it free. If it comes back it was always yours; if it doesn’t then it never was.” He knows that isn’t the exact quote, but it’s close enough. He’s put those words with her before in the past, but never with a positive charge. She was always the former and never the latter.
Until she climbed out of her car and stepped into his arms for the first time.
The tires chew up gravel as the truck veers from the road. He pulls his eyes from her and easily glides back into their lane. Her laughter doesn’t embarrass him. He just grins and glances at her again, their eyes meeting.
“Careful,” she says with that easy laugh of hers sprinkled across the word. He puts his hand on her leg and gives it a gentle squeeze. What he says is forgotten as soon as the words are out of his mouth. It could have been “I’ve got it” or maybe “I can’t help looking at you”. It all amounts to the same three words that he’s had paired with her for years; “As you wish.”
She makes a pleased noise as the first chords of a song slip from the speakers. Something within him responds as she turns the radio up with eased familiarity. Something so simple should not make him smile, but it does. Then he feels her head come to rest on his shoulder and warmth spreads throughout him.
The night is dark, the sky a black blanket spread over the earth. His headlights aren’t the brightest as they drive the country highway. The radio dances between color to color and fills the cab with reds, oranges, greens all bleeding in with the blue dash lights. His is the only car in sight, and it’s perfect that way. They are all that exists.
He finds himself wishing the highway would stretch on endlessly just so that her head would stay there on his shoulder. It isn’t awkward. It isn’t strange or different. It feels familiar.
This is what he wanted. This is what it should have been years ago. He thought he had given up hope and moved on. She had. She had gone on and taken a different path, one that took her firmly from his world and set her down in another that was inaccessible for him.
He had thrown himself into his work and into maintaining the life he already had. He hadn’t sought new friends or new hobbies. He stayed home more than he went out. He dated a bit, here and there. Twice, to be exact. The first date with the first girl had also been the last. The second had gone for a few weeks but, as it usually does, life happened.
It had made him sad, in a way. She had been fun to talk to, to ride around with, and he had liked her. He would be lying, though, if he said there wasn’t some sense of relief when things amicably fell apart. And, for him, life went on.
Her path had taken her down an aisle, into the arms of someone who was decidedly not him. He saw her in her wedding dress via Facebook, and even managed to tell her congratulations—although it was with a fair amount of resentment. He mustered up the same sentiments when she had her first son. By the time she had kid number two he was over it.
He had forgiven her, though he realized there was nothing to forgive, for not choosing him. What did it matter if he thought it was meant to be if she didn’t? A begrudging soul mate? He would have taken it at the time, but the years brought a sense of clarity, and he realized he could never have settled for someone who had a piece of her mind on the “what might have been” with another man.
He never thought their paths would intersect again. Life brought them back together and, though it wasn’t always the easiest of friendships, he was glad that she was there again.
What happened next was her story to tell, but when he saw her she hadn’t had a ring on her finger for quite some time.
Now she sat next to him, her head on his shoulder, the highway stretching out before them. The duet on the radio is catchy, and with a bit of precognition he knows it won’t leave his head for days to come.
The highway won't hold you tonight
The highway don't know you're alive
The highway don't care if you're all alone
He—though he kept a clamp on his lips and forced his mind to ignore his heart—hoped neither of them would be alone anymore.
He almost said it, almost whispered those words. Words were his forte and had rarely let him down in the past, but he had learned two things over the years:
Moments of bliss were fragile reflections on a lake’s calm surface and words, no matter how perfect or welcomed, could stir that image and change everything
"If you love something set it free. If it comes back it was always yours; if it doesn't then it never was."
She sat up and lit a cigarette before rolling the window down an inch. His hand sought hers and their fingers laced together. He looked at her and smiled and they drove.
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