Chapter 17
NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF FARTS
Thane
Ipout in the passenger seat for a few miles. Sera knows how much I hate bad smells, and she totally exploited the opportunity to make me suffer.
I sigh heavily. “Aren’t you going to apologize?”
Sera keeps her eyes steadily on the road, but a smile cracks her bright red lips. “For what exactly?”
“For that… nightmare that I just experienced back there!” I shout, my hands flapping wildly to punctuate the severity of my trauma.
She laughs again. “Thane, you did that to yourself. You bought the burritos knowing how sketchy gas station food can be. You ran into that bathroom first, where a gentleman would’ve let the lady go first…”
“There are no grounds for propriety at a time like that, and you know it,” I interrupt.
“But did you have to slam the door so hard? I swear, that knob was on its last leg even before you went in there.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t notice the condition of the doorknob while I was fighting for my last shred of dignity, Fina.”
My misfortune must be the funniest thing in the world to her, because the more I describe how awful the whole thing was, the more I feed her horrible little revenge monster.
“It’s just very convenient,” she says, not even trying to hide her amusement, which irritates me more.
“What is?” I grumble.
“That after all these years of being the victim of your pranks and jokes, I finally got recompense for it.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
She laughs. “Come on, you know you’d have done the same thing had the tables been turned.”
She’s got me there.
I exhale in defeat. “You’re right, I would’ve. But did it have to be that?! You know how much I hate bad smells.”
“Yes, I do. And that is what makes this victory so delicious,” she says with a grin. “Now, can we just call truce since the playing field has been leveled?”
“More like carpet bombed…” I growl under my breath, which only makes her laugh harder.
“Why don’t you try some of that breathing guru’s advice and just laugh about it? You’ll feel better, I’ll bet,” she says.
I take a few deep breaths in and out until I breathe out the last of my anger. “Fine. It is pretty funny if I can remove the trauma that I endured.”
“See? That’s the spirit!” she says, smacking my knee.
I let a small chuckle escape—but not because I want to give her the satisfaction—I just want to loosen the tension in the car. It doesn’t work.
“Maybe we just need some music to reset the vibe a bit. What do you think?” she suggests.
I pick up my phone. “What did you have in mind?”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. How about your most-listened-to songs?”
I open the Spotify app and my thumb hovers over the “liked songs” playlist. I close my eyes and hit shuffle, knowing I’m handing my fate over to chance. But what are the odds that out of over five hundred songs, it’ll land on that one?
Apparently so good, we should change course and head to Las Vegas, because the unthinkable occurs.
When the Goo Goo Dolls’ Iris blasts through the speakers, Sera stiffens, and my whole body goes numb.
For what feels like an eternity, the song blares, crowding out the space between us.
When my limbs can finally move again, I reach for the skip button on the radio.
Her hand reaches out to stop mine, arcing with electricity when she touches me. A soft, “Don’t,” escapes her lips like a whisper in a storm and slams me in the chest.
I lower my hand to the seat beside me and listen to her sing along.
I want to belt out the chorus like we used to in my truck.
Windows down. Hearts open. But I’m afraid to step too close too quickly.
Instead, I watch her in my periphery as the words slip out past her smile.
For four minutes and forty-nine seconds, everything feels a little bit lighter and a little less impossible.
I breathe in and out and let the song flood my mind, feeding me with hope.
When it ends, silence wraps us both in the aftermath of our sacred memory being forced upon us.
Do I say something about it? Do I let the moment move on?
She clears her throat. I adjust my seatbelt that has suddenly tightened too much.
The next song that plays is completely wrong for the moment, and I turn down the volume.
I’m desperate for a segue. When I’m just about to succumb to death-by-awkwardness, I get an idea.
“Hey, since you’re driving, you’re in the hot seat, right?” I ask.
She hesitates for a moment, then answers in the affirmative.
“So, that means I can ask you anything I want and you have to answer honestly?”
“In theory, yes. As long as it follows rules one through five, and stays within the depths we agree on beforehand. But don’t be getting any funny ideas.”
A wicked, Grinchy grin crosses my face. “Now what would give you that impression?”
“The fact that you are who you are, and your need for vengeance is fresh and ripe.”
“I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered, Fina,” I say.
“I could clear that up for you real fast, but I think I’ll let you sit on it for a bit.”
“You’re so spicy today,” I say. “And you weren’t even the one trapped in the most disgusting bathroom known to man.”
She bursts out laughing at my words and the tension between us lifts a little more. I’m grateful for the chance to make her laugh. I don’t mean to be so butt-hurt about being stuck in the bathroom, so I try again to lighten the mood.
“Pick your poison—kiddie pool, deep end, or somewhere in the middle?”
“Let’s stay in the kiddie pool for this one.”
“Sissy,” I say under my breath, and she smacks my leg again. “You’re the epitome of picking ‘truth’ when everyone else is picking ‘dare,’” I tease. “And you just broke rule number two.”
“I did not flirt with you,” she insists.
“You touched my leg.”
“I smacked your leg. That’s totally different.”
“Well, that’s flirty where I come from,” I say. “I think you are the pathological flirt. You can’t help it.”
“Well…” she trails off while she thinks of a comeback, “you still kinda smell like gas station bathroom.”
“Bad form, Pigeon, bad form. I have all week to get you back, remember?”
“I thought we called a truce.”
“Eh, how long do peace treaties really last? We’ll be back at it by sundown,” I say. “You know as well as I do that we can’t resist the banter and pranks. It’s part of what makes SeraThaniel so great.”
“Did you just give us a celebrity couple nickname?”
I smile. “Maybe. What do you think of it?”
She shrugs. “I guess it’s better than Thera…”
“Yeah, I’ll give you that. Okay, first kiddie pool question: did you ever fart in front of Brad?”
She scoffs. “What kind of question is that?”
“It’s very telling, actually. Answer it.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I’m going along with this. But no, I never farted in front of Bradley, if you must know. Or in front of anyone else on purpose. I don’t see the importance of it.”
“If you did, it means you were comfortable around him. If you can’t do that, what else are you holding back?”
“It wasn’t like that with him. He had impeccable standards. Except for the fidelity and honesty part…” she trails off.
“Besides the fact that he’s a cheating snake, that whole ‘standard’ thing must’ve been hard for you.”
“What do you mean? I have wonderful standards.”
I laugh out loud at the ridiculousness of her comment.
“What? You knew me back when I was a wild teenager. You don’t know me anymore, Thane.”
I see this as an opportunity to step a few inches out on a ledge. This could either break down her walls, or blow up in my face. I take a steadying breath before I reply.
“Just because I don’t know you anymore, that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I did. I may not know twenty-four-year-old Serafina, but I still hope that you’re happy.
“Every time Iris comes on, I’m right back in my beat-up truck next to you. I can’t resist singing at the top of my lungs, even after all this time. Sometimes I wonder what your new favorite song is, and if you sing like that with anyone else.
“I think about you driving Priscilla, and I hope that you remember to check your oil, and that you don’t wait until your tires are bald before you replace them.
“I think about what we used to be a lot. How grumpy you were on the way to school in the morning, if it was too hot or too cold. If you didn’t get enough sleep, or if you got too much.
When I wake up grumpy for no apparent reason, I think of you and how you hated mornings, no matter what the circumstances were, and it makes me miss you.
“When I drive with the windows down, I think about how you looked as you tied your hair up to keep it from getting tangly.
You never complained about the lack of AC in my truck; you just pulled up your hair and went along for the ride.
That was one of my favorite things about you. You were always up for an adventure.
“So you’re right. I may not know you as well now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about who you used to be.
That girl will forever be poured into the cracks of my heart, and even though I’m not the one who you’ll spend the rest of your life with, I still hope that you’ll find exactly what you’re looking for.
I hope you find who you’re looking for. A person who can make you belly-laugh at the dumbest things.
Someone who knows exactly how you like your coffee in the morning.
A man who will scrape your car windows after a good snowstorm.
I hope that he can be everything I wasn’t.
” Then I pause. “Everything I’m not. I don’t know you anymore, Fina, but I wish that I did. ”
Her breathing stills and she blinks furiously as she stares out the windshield.
We sit in silence for a few minutes, but it isn’t uncomfortable; it’s steadying.
The tumultuous day and a half that we were forced to experience together settles into a depth familiar to us.
The energy between us grows with each quiet breath we share, and I start to feel encouraged by our progress.
I’m not expecting to have everything tied up in a neat little bow by the time we arrive in Amethyst Lake, but at this rate, we will have made baby steps toward mending fences.
She composes herself and finally squeaks out, “All that from a question about a fart? You never cease to surprise me, T.”
I smile across the car at her. “Never underestimate the power of farts. They’ve been bringing people together since the beginning of time.”
At that, she laughs. And not the soft, polite chuckle she gives someone after a joke she thinks is lame, but the good, hearty, from-the-depths-of-her-soul laugh she’s been doing since the gas station incident. Pride swells within my chest, and I can’t help but think to myself, I’ve still got it.
I glance at the clock. Although the events of the day set us back a bit, time-wise, we still have two hours left until we arrive at Amethyst Lake.
The potential for conversation is wide open at this point, just like the road in front of us.
But since Sera is in the driver’s seat, I let her steer where it goes.
“Okay, you’re up. What else do you want to talk about?”
“Hmmm, okay, I’ve got one. What is our code name for the gas station incident of 2026?”