Chapter 14 #3
“No, no,” she says immediately, but then apologizes unnecessarily. “God, I’m sorry…I’m just not ready. I want to. So much.”
“There is no rush,” I assure her.
The harsh weather starts to blow against my face, and I laugh as I make my way back to my car. The force of the wind and the chill is exhilarating. Freeing in so many ways. Peaceful in its violence. I stay outside, enjoying the crisp air for a bit, until I know it’s got to be time to leave.
I shake off the icy bits from my eyelashes and get into my pristine driver’s seat. This dark cabin with incredible comfort? It’s almost better than the cozy bed at Dave’s place. Despite the snuggly seats that could easily keep me here forever, I start up the car and head home.
The wind and weather that were hitting me ten minutes ago are now way harsher as I drive, and I should have figured these could be problems. While I’m no stranger to snow, driving with one hand in these conditions becomes pretty unnerving.
The ice that builds up so quickly though is what starts to truly scare me.
The heavy deluge falls so heavily and blindingly, coating the roads and making me skid within seconds.
Staying in town was admittedly a mistake, and I just want to get home now.
I repeat the New England mantra about skidding. “Pump the brakes. Pump the brakes.”
While I’m driving ever so slowly, I hit a patch of invisible black ice that sends me into a ditch on a desolate road a mile from the house. After trying my car in reverse, turning my wheels, and all the things over and again, I sigh. My Boston tricks are not working.
Of course I’m stuck.
My radio is still cranking out fun songs like I’m not in hell and I haven’t been totally stressed for twenty minutes, at a loss for what to do.
When lights flood this remote road, I roll my eyes with embarrassment. Dave’s car parks just behind mine, and he runs through the weather to knock on my window.
Reluctantly, I roll it down a bit and blurt out, “I thought the forecast was bullshit, okay? It’s only October.”
“I know. But just please come with me.”
“Go away,” I yell. “Let me be alone in my sexy new car! It’s nice, and I like it, and it’s kind of cozy here! Thanks to Anjanette, I’ve got sustenance for days. Not sure I know what she got, but there must be something that doesn’t have to be sautéed, or roasted, or whatnot.”
Dave is clearly torn between his enduring sweetness and a reasonable desire to throttle me.
“Diana!” he shouts. The icy rain pounds against his face as he pleads outside my window. “In 2011, there was a Halloween nor’easter a few months after Hurricane Irene. Dumped so much snow and ice that tree branches broke from the weight and killed someone. Well, a few people. Goddammit, open up!”
I unlock my door.
He physically hauls me from my car as the wind rages against us. “And 1998 still has everyone around here traumatized. Thirty-four people died.”
I’m not sure what to say.
“I’m sorry,” I say meekly. “I really didn’t know it was going to be so bad out.”
Dave sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “You scared the shit out of me, okay? You were supposed to be following me home, and then you were gone. And with your arm? You probably shouldn’t even be driving.”
“It was so beautiful out there. By the water. Among all the boats,” I say as I huddle against him and then get into his car. “God, that fishing village feel is so intoxicating, huh? That salty smell everywhere?”
He drives over the bumpy roads and reluctantly smiles. “It is.”
After I’ve licked my wounds, I ask, “So, you heard that conversation I had with Anj? She called you an eavesdropper, so—”
“I’m not an eavesdropper, per se,” he says in protest and then lets a smile come through. “And not a stalker either. Just wanted to make sure you both got home safely. But, yes, I did happen to overhear your talk.”
“Oh.”
He navigates over several slippery spots.
“And I think your hair is beautiful. Are you not obsessed with your coloring like I am? Jesus, it’s stunning.
Drew me into you immediately. Redheads should never be put in unappealing categories.
They should only be in the best. Jessica Chastain?
Beth in Yellowstone? Julianne Moore? Emma Stone?
Gillian Anderson dyed her hair for years to be a redhead. ”
I sit up in my seat. “Did you know maintaining dyed reds is the worst? The color fades out super fast, so it’s at least a monthly commitment. Kudos to Gillian and the others who commit.”
Dave puts a hand on my shoulder and then eases his hand up a bit so that his fingers work through my locks. “So, enjoy your natural color. It’s so gorgeous and so sexy.”
Despite my fair skin, I am not prone to blushing, but I’m glad we’re driving at nighttime.
“The weather? I didn’t think it’d be an issue driving home.” I about crumple. “Did I slaughter my new car? After eight years, I finally got a new one, and I killed it in one night, didn’t I?”
“Not at all,” he assures me. “Didn’t see any damage. I already have a call out to a friend who can tow it. You just hit a rough patch.”
Yeah, in more ways than one.