Let me out

The flat rocky expanse of the Peace River Valley was smoothed out on either side of them as the car roared down the highway. About a mile on either side walls of the mountains sloped up like careless brush strokes, ending in splurges of white, snowy peaks. The sun slowly dipped below the ragged horizon, leaving in its wake a falling darkness that made its way down the slopes and spread across the valley.

There was nothing else to do but argue.

It won’t be far.

How do you know?

What?

How do you know it won’t be far?

Trust me.

Trust you?

We’re not lost.

Some things in her life now seemed inevitable. Like hitting that pole on her bike and getting eleven stitches in her forehead and having headaches for a week. Like finding a message on her ex-fiance’s cell phone, from another woman, and calling her just to hear her voice, just to hear it, in their bed, and crying, and asking all sorts of pointless questions. Like falling in love again, sooner than she expected. Perhaps a little recklessly.

We should turn around.

What?

Go back.

Go back?

We’re lost.

No, we’re a little off course, but we can make up the time tomorrow.

She gripped the handle on the door and clenched her teeth. She wanted to explode all the air in the car out the windows. Pop them out. She wanted to hitch a ride in the next car she saw. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

She looked at him.

Whatever happened between you and her?

Nothing.

But you saw her?

Yes.

Why?

Well, I don’t know.

You don’t know?

Ok, look, I’ll tell what happened if you’ll leave it alone.

***

It was over a couple beers at my place that my friend got around to telling me about his situation. He wanted me to come over and talk to her. She had given him a deadline and seemed pretty serious about moving out. For my part, I hated getting in the middle of relationships. Anyway, who was I to give advice? Back then, I hadn’t been in a serious relationship in years. But he was desperate. Or so he said.

We got pretty drunk and he left with me saying I would think about it.

The next day I bumped into my sister on the way home from work and we went for beers. I told her about my friend. She told me to do it. In fact, she insisted on it. It seemed I had no choice.

I dropped by my friend’s house a couple weeks later after playing some tennis. I rode my bicycle to the club and his house was hardly out of the way, so I decided to stop by. She opened the door, looked at me in my sneakers, and invited me in. She was alone. There were no moving boxes to be seen though the deadline my friend had mentioned had passed. In fact, the house had a tidy, orderly appearance. Only the pile of dishes next to the sink and a hot water kettle perched curiously on a stool looked out of place.

She had bumped her head somehow and immediately lay down on the sofa with a cold pack pressed to her forehead.

Screaming headache, she said. I suppose he asked you to come?

I thought you were moving out.

I am.

Look, I really just came here to talk, I said. But she had dozed off.

I was going to let myself out but it had started raining. A real down pour. I would probably be better off to wait another 30 minutes or so. While I was waiting she rolled over and opened her eyes. She asked me to read to her from one of the books on their mantle.

I took one down and opened it up. It was For Whom the Bell Tolls.

I read a few pages. The main character was setting the explosive charges for a bridge. I finished the chapter and put the book down and looked about the room.

I think I’d better go, I said. I hope you don’t mind me popping by.

Anytime, she said.

I don’t suppose. Well. Have you thought about changing your mind?

As you can see, I haven’t exactly started packing.

So you’ll stay?

Would you like me to?

I’m not sure I understand. On his behalf. I suppose I would.

She sighed and nodded.

Don’t worry about locking the door on the way out. He’ll be home soon.

And she dozed off again.

***

My friend visited me a couple days later.

And dropped off the book I found. With her note?

Yes.

Look!

Ahead of them appeared a squat light blue building with a sign that read, in chipped red paint, “Motel”. He pulled into the empty parking lot. The wheels crunched on the gravel. She flung the door open, stepped out and took a deep breath. The little office was dark but she sauntered in anyway and the door chimed. A TV was on nearby. Somewhere someone coughed.

***

Later that night she lay awake, the red light from a cheap alarm clock on the bed stand illuminating the room, like a pair of beady eyes. He was fast asleep. She could barely catch her breath. The air in the room was getting heavier, thicker. Like glue drying in the dark. Collagulating around her.

Let me out.

She wanted to scream. But she could only manage a slight parting of the lips. Outside, she heard heavy footsteps.

Someone was coming.

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