November 24, 2010

  • nanowrimo: day 24 (VICTORY)

    “Are we there yet?”

    “No.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Yes.”

    “How much longer?”

    “An hour,” Lucas informs me, unfazed by my annoying, childish questions.

    “Still?” I whine. “I forgot how freakin’ long this drive feels.”

    “I just did it about two weeks ago,” he says, his eyes on the last crowded highway before we are to reach our destination. “I definitely remember it being this long. Especially since I was alone.”

    I made a sad face. “I would shoot my own brains out, having to make this long of a drive all by myself. That’s like torture.”

    He smiles at my ever-present melodrama. “The first few hours weren’t so bad, but about halfway in I was getting pretty stir-crazy.”

    “I can only imagine,” I shake my head. “That was a pretty brave endeavor, home skillet.”

    “Some things are just worth it,” he says, and I see his smiling profile. “But I just drove for 8 hours, that doesn’t exactly make me a superhero.”

    “It does to me,” I sigh. “I am an OCD control freak, and driving to places I am not familiar with makes me very, very anxious.”

    “I will keep that in mind.”

    “So, what kind of stuff does your family do for fun?” I ask.

    “My dad, Heath and I love fixing cars. My uncle Mark is – I believe – a mechanic-savant, and he owns and runs a very successful body shop. Dad buys old cars and us Browning men all get together in Uncle Mark’s garage and fix ‘em up on the weekends.”

    “Why do you think your uncle is a savant?” My curiosity is piqued.

    Lucas emphasizes his words with his hand. “He can listen to the engine for like, ten seconds, and know what’s wrong with the car. I’ve never seen anything else like it.”

    “That’s an awesome skill to have,” I smile. “Are either of your parents Gifted?”

    “Well, before I met you, I always just assumed my dad was a really honorable, honest guy… but I’m beginning to wonder if maybe you two have the whole truth-teller thing in common,” Lucas shrugs.

    “That would be cool,” I smile. “I’ve always wondered if I am the only person in the world who is not even allowed to lie.”

    We fall into comfortable silence, with Charlotte and Nadia sleeping soundly in the backseat and the music turned down low. The sun is almost finished setting, its pink-orange radiance is filling the sky and making magnificent masterpieces of the bare trees. The other cars around us are moving at a decent speed – like us, they are probably full of people who are ready for a lovely holiday at home. But, chances are, many of them are dreading the fake smiles and forced courtesies that being with extended (or sometimes even immediate) family brings. Maybe some of them are going to have a lonely Thanksgiving, at a bar getting drunk, or sitting in front of the TV. Maybe more still are spending the holidays alone by choice – desiring the peace and quiet that comes from the rest of the world fading away for a while, lost in their own traditions.

    “Your thoughts aren’t always so eloquent, are they?” Lucas interrupts my musing.

    “I’m sorry?” I turn to him.

    “You, narrating the lives of those around you… are you always such a writer?”

    “Not always,” I assure him. “But sometimes, it’s also in a British accent.”

    He laughs. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

    I grin at him. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard me narrating my life before. I do it all the time; it just comes naturally to me. I can’t even help it.”

    “Weirdo,” Lucas teases.

    “Oh, this from the man who packed up and moved South just because he saw some girl in his dreams,” I shoot back. “That’s totally normal and sane.”

    “Touché,” he grins.

    “Exactly,” I smirk, victorious. “Though, I for one appreciate said moment of insanity… so long as you don’t get bored with being with me, and suddenly ‘see’ yourself with some bleached-blonde tramp out in the ghetto of California. That would be your last vision, I think.”

    “Is that a threat?” Lucas is amused by my violence.

    “No, I’d say that’s a promise,” I correct him with a sure-of-myself smirk.

    “That’s very Batman of you. But, I promise you that there will be no tramp in California for me…” he smiles, still looking out at all the traffic.

    “I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”

    I purse my lips, thoughtful.

    “Would it totally throw a wrench in your pre-seen plans if I flat-out said I didn’t want you that way?” I ask, keeping my voice as even as possible.

    He looks over at me and raises one eyebrow. “I’d say so, yeah.”

    “Oh-ho-ho, such words from Mr. Confidence… ‘I see the future, not all possible futures. My gift is very specific,’” I try to mimic his deep voice, but I can’t reach his octave accurately. “So, if it’s so specific, you would know for sure that I wouldn’t turn you down, and therefore it couldn’t really throw a wrench in plans that are already going to happen…”

    “Please stop there,” he holds his hand a few inches above the steering wheel, as if he doesn’t know whether to reach out and smack me, or just keep driving.

    “I can’t! This is good stuff, baby, try and keep up.” I let countless nights of listening to Louise’s gorgeous Southern accent creep into my fast-talking Northerner dialogue. “And furthermore, really, by you telling me that we end up together being old prunes with the sweet tea and all that, could you possibly have negated the original definition of reality? I mean, how finite is this whole thing? Are there loop holes?”

    “Georgia,” Lucas chooses option three: to run his hand through his hair. “It’s dark out. All I see are lights.  A good percentage of these people – probably the ones you muse are spending lonely, drunken holidays with no company but their alcohol – have probably already started their Thanksgiving drinking. I’m tired, and starving. And you really want to make now the time you talk to me philosophically about shit like vision loopholes and whether or not my telling you things negates them?”

    I blink twice and stare at him. “All you see are lights? What the hell are you smoking, anyway?”

    “AUGH.”

    I sink down in my seat, chagrined. “I’m sorry, Charlie Brown. I promise I won’t pick up the football this time.”

    “I’m kind of… I don’t know what the word is when I’m driving, and have been for hours,” he sighs.

    “Bitchy?” I offer.

    “Yeah, I guess that fits. And I really don’t know if my telling you negates the vision. I really don’t think so. But I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

    I look over at him and give him a tiny smile. “So, by telling me, you put some of the guessing back into life, which is the fun part, right?”

    He turns his head and the passing lights flicker in his eyes as he smiles back.

     

    “Georgia, wake up,” I hear a female voice demand.

    When I do not oblige, I feel a palm strike my cheek. My eyes dart open.

    “What the hell?” I groan.

    “We’re like, ten minutes away.” Charlotte is way too close to my face.

    “Charlotte, back up. I adore you, but you smell like road trip,” I push her back.

    Nadia is yawning and stretching. “Thank God for the navigation system in this thing,” she says mid-yawn. “It allowed me to sleep instead of playing map-reader.”

    “Yes, and thank God our father is a tech geek,” I sigh. “I’m so glad he’s always been into GPS.”

    “I’m glad I don’t have to rely on you for directions,” Lucas looks right at me and says. “Your mind is like a map drawn by a four-year-old that still chews on their crayons.”

    “Hey, hey,” I hold up one index finger. “I know the area around which I live. That’s about it. Hence the anxiety when I’m in uncharted territory.”

    “Uncharted by you,” Lucas argues. “That is what a GPS is for, sweetheart.”

    “Don’t Han Solo me, nerf herder,” I scoff. “I have my hang-ups. Deal with it.”

    “Han Solo wasn’t good with directions either,” Lucas points out. “I mean, he ‘made the kessel run in less than twelve parsecs’?”

    “Yeah, but parsecs are a unit of distance,” I roll my eyes. “What a d-bag.”

    “I will never understand the crap that George Lucas makes canon. Like, The Phantom Menace, for instance. If I wiped that entire movie from my brain, it still wouldn’t be enough.”

    “I think it should be wiped from existence.” I agree.

    “You two were made for each other,” Charlotte rolls her eyes.

    “Thank you,” we say in unison, and then laugh.

    “FIVE MINUTES!” Nadia squeals, pointing to the little screen on our navigation system.

    “I can’t wait to smell our house’s smell again,” I sigh happily.

    “God, you’re weird,” Charlotte laughs.

    “He knows, He made me that way,” I toss back.

    “True,” Charlotte holds out her hand for a high-five.

    I give it to her; only because I know I’m going to be throwing open the door to my parents’ house in less than 300 seconds.