The Same Explorer

A short story I wrote in high school

 

I drummed my hands on the steering wheel out of habit as I drove down Scottsdale Lane for the nine-hundredth time in my life. The rain drops splattered on the paved road in front of me, making a delusional design. I pulled into Bethanie’s driveway. It was empty and her garage was shut, like most everybody’s at 11:30 at night. I pulled the key out of the ignition of my Ford Explorer and took a deep breath. What now? This was one of those moments where I wonder to myself: Could this be one of those nights that changes everything? Bethanie had called me this late at night many times, but usually she will talk to me on the phone for hours if she needs to. She has never said “Can you come over? We need to talk.” Those words make your heart skip a beat.

I knocked on her door quietly, hopefully loud enough for her to hear, but not too loud that I’d wake her parents. She opened the door and closed it behind her before I could say or do anything. She was wearing her white sweatshirt that I bought for her. She smiled at me softly and said, “Can we go on a ride?”

I nodded and walked her to the door of my Explorer. I got in and we pulled out of her driveway. It was silent. I wanted to look over at her and read her expression to see what she was thinking, but I was too afraid . I didn’t know what was going through her head. I’m not sure if I wanted to. We drove around for a little bit. We made small talk about our day, but that’s about it. We never had trouble making conversation., until lately. I don’t know why, things have just changed. Our relationship had changed and I hated it. Finally, she asked if we could go to the norm. The norm was a spot outside of town on a dirt road where we would go and park and talk about everything. We started calling it the usual spot, then it evolved to the normal, and again to the norm. Beth and I used to go there at least three or four times a week. But lately that had changed. We didn’t go much anymore, and I hated that.

We arrived at the norm and I parked my Explorer and turned it off. The sound of the engine stopped and was replaced by the sound of rain hitting the top of the car. Bethanie sat straight forward, staring out the windshield watching the rain. Her hands fiddled in her lap like they always do when she’s nervous. I looked at her and tried to read her again. I couldn’t find anything but nervousness.

 “So…” I asked, holding out the sound to take the place of the silence.

 She turned her head and looked at me. Her eyes gleamed bright like they always did. That was my favorite thing about her. I could always count on looking her in the eye and making me feel like everything was all right again.  But it didn’t this time. It didn’t reassure me that everything was all right. That made my heart race and my head pound.         

 “Morgan,” she started, still looking directly at me for what seemed forever. “I love being with you. I do.” Her eyes closed for a few seconds, and opened again, still looking at me.

 My palms began to sweat. I pressed them hard against my jeans and waited for her to continue.

“But things just aren’t the same anymore. I wish they were, but they’re not.”

 I could tell it was hard for her to talk. Almost like something was forcing her to keep her mouth closed, but she overcame it. I kept staring, trying my hardest to believe that this was really happening.

“We have been together for a long time now, almost a year. But I think it’s time that we moved on from each other. I feel like we just can’t carry this on anymore, and it’s becoming harder and harder.” By this time her lip is quivering and her hand fiddling has turned to shaking.

I opened my mouth without thinking. “Beth, what are you talking about?” I reached my hand to hers. It was cold and shaking, but I held it tight and tried to stop the trembling. “Things have changed, I know that. But you and I, we can make it through. Change is automatic, it‘s supposed to happen--”

“Morgan, stop! It’s not that simple. We can’t keep doing this.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

 My heart should have stopped at that moment. I don’t know how it kept beating. My mouth was dry and my eyes were blurry, but I could still see her so well. “Beth, I promise, everything’s going to be all right.” My voice was shaky but strong. “We can make it work, we can adjust.”

She raised her head again. “No, Morgan. No more promises. No more adjustments. We can’t do this. I love you, I do. But it’s over, it has to be. I’m sorry.”

 It went silent again and the only sound was the raindrops pounding on the car. She stared back at me with the eyes I loved for so long. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t real. I closed my eyes and hoped that it would make this moment disappear. Instead it forced the tears to stream down my face.

            I could tell she was crying too by the sound of her breathing. She was trying to hold it in, but she never could. She has always been a cryer. I hated to see her cry. I always avoided situations in which I saw her cry because it hurt too bad to see it. The only thing I could do when I saw her cry was pull her to me and hold her as tight as I could and repeat the words: “Everything’s going to be alright. I promise.” But right now I couldn’t. I couldn’t hold her anymore. The words I used to say would have no meaning. It wasn’t going to be all right, no matter how hard I promised. I wanted to hold her so badly. I wanted to tell her it’d be all right. I wanted to look into her eyes and feel the reassurance, but none of that would ever happen again. Realizing that is what made me begin to sob.

            “I have to go home now. I’m not supposed to be out,” Beth said.

I nodded and started up the engine of my Explorer. We drove off down the dirt road. I looked in my rearview mirror and watched the norm fade into darkness. That made my eyes blurry again. I watched the windshield wipers slide back and forth on the glass, wiping the rushing rain away over and over again. It was silent. I hated the silence. There I was, driving in the same Explorer that Beth and I would turn up the radio and sing along to our song. The same Explorer that we would talk in for hours. The same Explorer that I drove on our first date. The same Explorer where we first kissed. But it wasn’t the same Explorer. It was something completely different. I never thought something so familiar could suddenly feel so lost. It was over. The same Explorer was gone forever.

            I pulled into Beth’s driveway. She unbuckled her seat belt, then paused and looked up at me. Her eyes were cold and sad. It added to the aching of my stomach and I almost thought I was going to throw up. I stared back at her and tried telling her with my eyes that I didn’t want this to happen to us. I loved her too much. Her staring back at me told me it had to be this way. She slowly leaned in and hugged me one last time. I put my arms around her and held her body against mine. I buried my head into her shoulder. Tears stained her sweatshirt. I realized it and it made me sob a little. I inhaled her scent one last time, the scent I would remember forever. It brought back the memories I have of us together. I couldn’t let go. I wouldn’t. It was the last thing on the earth I wanted to do. If it were possible, I’d hug her forever and be completely fine. But unfortunately it’s not possible. I had to let go. She pulled away from me and looked at me one last time. Those eyes were still full of tears. The reassurance was gone forever. She opened the door and stepped out into the rain.

“Goodbye, Morgan,” she said.

I tried to say goodbye to her between my silent sobs. Somehow I did, and she shut the door.

She walked up her empty driveway and never looked back.

Reviews

[Darkest Rose]

I love this story its so sad and heartfelt,I have been in that place a good few times when I've had to break up with people and it relates to me a lot.Fab write keep it up :)