I keep my eyes on the road, watching out for signs onto the thruway, trying my damnedest not to glance in Shane’s direction. But it’s difficult. I hadn’t bet on taking all these memories with us. I hadn't really considered the memories these songs carried, just that they’d been bands that Ev had liked.
Shane lets out a slow exhale and says softly, “Wow. Haven’t heard that song in a long time.”
I leave his comment hanging, but I cut the volume down on the CD player when the next song begins. That one, at least, doesn’t come with vivid and depressing memories.
Shane sighs. “I don’t like things being this way between us.”
Should’ve thought of that five years ago, dickwad,I almost snap, but I hold my tongue.
“I know it’s my fault,” he says. “And I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but can we talk about it at least?”
I don’t know what the fuck he would even want to talk about. It was pretty simple. He fucking ditched me. He disappeared from my life. The fucker got me right where he wanted me and just fucked off. He shoved me away, shoved me right into the dark, shut the door, locked it, and left me there without another word.
What else could there possibly be to discuss?
I cut my eyes over to him. “I told you. This isn’t about me and you. It’s about Everett.Wedon’t have to discuss anything, because there is nowe. You’re Shane Carraway, you’ve got a kid, you live in Port Leyden. I’mEthan Sawyer, I’ve got a degree to work for, I live in fucking New York City. That’s it. That’s all there is.”
When I look back at the road, I see a sign for the thruway, and I slow down, cutting on the turn signal. In my periphery, I see Shane shaking his head.
“No, that’s not all there is. That’s not all therewas.And, yeah, we might be different people now, but we were—”
I almost miss the turn when I look over at him. I want him to say it. “We were what?”
He shakes his head again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Never mind. I guess it doesn’t matter.”
I merge into the thruway traffic and look for a sign to tell me how far until Highway 27. “We werewhat,Shane? Fucking say it.”
He doesn’t answer for a minute or so. When he finally speaks his voice is barely loud enough over the music and traffic. “You know about my daughter?”
“Everybody knows. It’s a really small town.”
He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “Who told you?”
“My mom.” I spot the sign and see we’ve got about twelve miles before Highway 27. “She saw you with a little girl at the Dollar General in Lyons Falls.”
My mom and dad were sort of casualties in the whole thing between Shane and me. The outward ripples of it affected them too, and I bet that fucker didn’t even consider that. Because even though Shane was Everett’s best friend, my parents cared about him. I think they sometimes even saw him like an adopted son. My mom told me the story of seeing Shane with the little girl, saying she’d wanted to go up to him and say hi and say hi to his daughter. But she was worried Shane wouldn’t want to speak to her.
“Oh, I see,” he says quietly.
I guess, if you’re really skilled and determined, it wouldn’t be too difficult to avoid someone in our little town. Some of the neighborhoods are really far apart. And some homes are way out in the woods. Most people go to either Lyons Falls or Lowville to do their shopping, and there are some that go all the way to Boonville. And pretty much no one that lives in Port Leyden works in Port Leyden unless it’s at the fire house or the post office or the funeral home. So, I think it would be pretty easy in some ways. After all, Shane’s been successfully avoiding the same people for five years now.
“How old is she?” I hear myself asking, then wince because I don’t really want to know.
“She’s almost five.” He almost sounds ashamed.
Somehow, I think I knew that already. Just like I think I already knew the mom is Gina Pritzer. The news came as both a slap in the face and almost welcome to me. Because when I heard, I figured that was it. I could get over him now, I could move past it, because Shane Carraway wasn’t really into me, wasn’t even actually into dudes at all, and here’s the proof. He’s got his own family to take care of now.
But I didn’t get over it. It’s clear now, stuck in a car with him.
“This is why I think it would be good for us to talk,” Shane says. “You don’t know the whole story.”
I’m wondering if I’m that transparent, and I’m determined to do a better job of being stoic, so I don’t respond to him. Focusing back on the road again, I find the exit for Highway 27.
He doesn’t say anything again for a few minutes. I have to hit the brakes when a car in front of me swerves because the dumbass in front of him cut him off. I glance at the back seat to make sure the urn is okay. It hasn’t budged.
“I can see why Ev preferred to drive at night,” Shane says. “He wouldn’t have to deal with dumbasses like this.”
“There are dumbasses on the road at any time,” I mutter.
