I try to get a cigarette out to light it, but Shane grabs the pack from me. “Come on, Ethan. Things that start with B.”
“Okay, um.” My voice is trembling and my lungs hurt. “Bats. Um…bricks.”
“Yeah. Good.”
“Brakes…”
As soon as I say it, my vision tunnels.I can’t breathe.
“No, hey, Ethan.” Shane’s leaning over me in the seat, grabbing both my shoulders now. “It’s okay. Just think about C then. Things that start with C.”
Crash. Collision. Crushed.
More tears spill down my cheeks. My lungs are struggling for air.
“Think of animals then,” Shane says. “Just any kind of animal. You said one already, bats. What else?”
I really try to focus on his words, but it’s hard. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.
“Come on, Ethan. You can do it. Name some animals.”
“Cats. Um…dogs. Horses. Cows.”
“There you go, good.”
“Swallows. Foxes. Bluebirds. Swans. Geese. Squirrels. Chipmunks.”
“That’s it, good.”
Shane rubs up and down my arms, squeezing, and I keep reciting.Wombats. Hyenas. Tigers. Elk. Crows. Ducks.I fucking didn’t think this would be so hard. I keep reciting any animals that I can think of. It seems like we’re on the side of the road for an eternity before the shaking finally starts to subside.
In the rearview mirror, I see a car pulling up behind us. A middle-aged man gets out and trudges through the snow over to us. “You boys okay?”
“We’re fine,” Shane says to him. “Just a little car sickness is all.”
The man nods, peeking in at me, and then he looks us both over with vague suspicion. I’m aware of him and Shane exchanging a few more words, and I’m suddenly so fucking tired and drained, I lay my head on the steering wheel.
“Ethan?” Shane says, his hand back on my shoulder. It’s warm and heavy. I hate how I want him to keep it there. “You want me to drive?”
“You don’t know where to go,” I mutter.
“You can tell me,” he says. “And we just have to go east now, right? So we can get back to Route 8? Because we’re going south?”
“I can drive,” I argue pathetically.
“Come on, Ethan,” he says gently. “Lie down in the back for a little while and let me drive.”
I slowly, bitterly, get out of the car. I climb in behind the driver’s seat, next to Ev’s ashes. Shane gets in and puts the car into gear. I see him glance back at me in the rearview.
“I can use the map,” he says, unfolding it and laying it out on the passenger seat. “If you want to take a nap. I know that shit can wear you out.”
I shrug and look over at Ev’s ashes, still snug in the collection of cushions. I put my hand on the lid. I whisper, “I’m sorry I’m being like this. But we’ll get you there, buddy. I promise.”
Shane turns the Blazer and waits for a break in traffic before he gets back on the highway. I stare out of the window and watch the naked trees and guardrails whiz by and feel like a failure.
I glance at the back of Shane’s head.
A failure in a lot of ways.
