4. Charlie
Charlie
“Just show me your phone!” I argue with Brody. So much for calling him my loving boyfriend. He combs a hand through his mopey, dirty blond hair. The air in his Camaro turns thicker than tar as his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel.
“We’re doing this now?” his voice lowers, a painful calm that thickens my blood.
“I saw the damn photo that bitch sent you! Hand it over!” I yell, and throw out my palm, looking at him, but his brown eyes are glued to the freeway. Cold and uncaring, as usual. But it popped up, a clear little image of a naked woman taking a selfie and sending it to him.
“Hello!”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He slams his palm against the steering wheel. “I’m not giving you my phone.”
“Why? Do you have something to hide?”
“Fucking drop it!”
A faint tingle at the tips of my fingers forms, like they do each time he breaks another piece off me. My muscles start to curl unwillingly. It’s like a sharp knife is sawing at my bones.
“I’m not blind! I saw the message! You're talking to other girls!”
“No one sent me a damn thing!” His words are sandpaper to my chest, grinding away and leaving nothing left.
“You’re insane, you realize that, right?
Every damn day it’s something else. I’m cheating, I’m lying, I’m drinking too much, stop going to parties.
Who the hell do you think you are, telling me who I can and cannot talk to?
You're fucking mental. Do you realize that?”
The steady beat of my heart thumps in my chest as the engine revs louder.
It builds in my eyes, and I try to breathe through it like Mom taught me.
His foot presses on the gas. I dig my front teeth into my bottom lip.
We are already flying a little over seventy miles per hour, ten over the speed limit, passing cars as he switches lanes.
No turn signal, just him, only inches away from hitting someone.
The speedometer climbs, and so does the roar of the engine.
“Can you slow down?”
“Why?” he asks, and I put a hand on the dashboard as I’m jerked forward when he lets off the gas, and I’m then suddenly thrown back into the headrest as he speeds up.
“You’re scaring me!”
He chuckles. “I do this all the time!”
“Stop!”
“Oh, come on. We are going out to have a good time, and I want to have a good time. Don’t you?
” A grin stretches across his face. “Let’s forget about the phone and go out.
It’s been six months, baby. I just wanna make it up to you and take you out.
” The car surges forward, and I grip the oh-shit-handle.
I can’t even read the names of the green exits we pass by.
“What the hell! Slow down!” The tachometer sits at the edge of the red line. He’s zipping by cars blurring in my vision, becoming a mix of colors and shapes. I’m shouting over the roar of the engine, my words muffled as he picks up more speed. “This isn’t funny!”
“Oh, relax, babe.” His foot presses harder on the gas pedal as he drives over a hundred miles an hour. I’m all for meeting Jesus, but not today. Someone in front of him slams on their brakes, the red lights flashing in my eyes.
The seatbelt catches my weight as I’m flung forward while Brody brakes and veers off into another lane.
Cars beside us swerve and honk as he revs the engine and speeds back off.
A loud, harsh sob bursts out of my mouth..
“Stop it! Let me out!” I’m crumbling into the seat.
My thoughts race, as if everything in my life flashes before me on an old-school television screen with those stupid antennas.
“Stop!” My skin prickles with a cold sweat, my legs tremble, and I feel the jolt of the car fling me forward as he lets off the gas. My throat thickens as if hands are wrapped around my neck. Brody slows down enough that he pulls over on the side of the interstate with cars zipping past us.
“Get out,” he says and stares emotionlessly out the window.
“What?” I ask.
“You want to get out... get out.”
“On the freeway?”
“I said, get out.”
“You’re joking.” I laugh under my tears.
“Get the fuck out of my car!” He turns to me, spitting out the words.
I swallow hard, my throat sore from screaming at him.
I gather my purse from the floor mat and open the car door with the overwhelming sound of cars and semis speeding past. Brody doesn’t hesitate to peel out, with rocks skidding under the tires, and I’m left on the side of the highway.
I tremble taking out my cellphone, my eyes blurry as I scroll through my contacts to find my brother. I put the phone to my ears and it rings several times before he answers.
“Hello?” he asks.
“Ryder...” I suck in my bottom lip. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“You okay?”
“No...”
“It’s freaking loud. Where are you?”
“Can you come and pick me up?”
“Yeah... yeah, just ping me your location.”