1
The drive home feels strange.I’ve been on the old back road bordering the South Bay town line hundreds of times, thousands maybe, but it’s never looked like this.
It’s August, but the oranges and reds bursting from the thick forest surrounding the asphalt make it look like October. The winding highway bends and curves in places it shouldn’t, as if the anatomy of the road has changed. And I swear the lights were on as I passed the Mackinley farm, even though the place has been empty since the old man died almost a decade ago.
The car speakers crack and hiss, and the music is replaced by static. Keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel, I use the other to fiddle with the dial, scanning the local stations, but everything comes out garbled.
“Radio’s busted,” I say.
Silence.
I sigh as I focus back on the road. “Are you really not gonna talk to me?”
Emily throws me a look, then quickly zeroes in on her phone again. “There’s nothing left to say.”
Her eyes are angry, her hair a few shades darker than it was last week.For fall,she told me. That golden blond she’s had since high school wastoo summery, and she needed a change. Right. That means it must be October. Why the hell did I think it was August?
“Oh.” I let out a dark laugh. “I’ve got plenty to say.”
She rolls her eyes. “You always do.”
Chin lifted, I scratch my jaw. “If you’re this pissed, we should talk about it. Otherwise, I’ll be talking to myself the rest of the way home, and we both know I’m not that interesting.”
“What’s there to talk about? You want to stay. I don’t.”
We keep having this same argument. She can’t see a future here, but leaving this place has never been in my plans. It’s where we grew up, where I want to build a life. Emily can’t see it. She talks about South Bay like it’s a damn disease.
“Where’s this coming from?” I ask, flicking my attention to the passenger seat. “We agreed to put a pin in this until later.”
“Maybe I don’t want to wait until later. Maybe I want to figure this out now.” She sucks in a sharp breath and her eyes go wide. “Watch it!”
I whip my eyes to the road. When I catch sight of the monster pothole, I slam on the brakes, but it’s too late, and Emily’s Corolla bounces over the broken pavement with a sickening thump.
“Fuck. Sorry.” I move the steering wheel back and forth. I don’t have a clue what to look for, but nothing seems broken. I let my shoulders relax. “Thought they fixed that.”
I’m sure they did. I remember the construction crews, the smell of tar as I passed by, the extra ten minutes it took to get to work while the lane was closed. This was fixed. Years ago. It was perfectly smooth when I drove home from shift yesterday.
“It’s fine,” she says, slumping in the passenger seat. “Just pay attention, will you?”
“Hard to pay attention when you started this argument after we’ve both worked night shift, babe.”
A long, weary breath escapes her lips. “It’s just… can you really picture a life here? This is biker territory, Linc. It’s not like it was when we were kids. It’s gotten dangerous. And now you’re in the thick of it. That badge won’t be doing our family any favours. You really wanna raise our kids here?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Kids?”
“I mean… you know. Like, later. And hypothetically.” She twists away from me, fixing her attention on the window and fiddling with the South Bay General Hospital ID badge affixed to her pink scrubs.
“Hypothetically, yeah. Better here than in some big city.”
I should hold her hand. Squeeze it. Make her feel like I understand, like I care. Instead, I ball my fist in my lap and let the space between us grow. A void of heavy silence and awkwardness.
We pass a big farmhouse with a white wraparound porch and a towering tree in the front yard. The Mackinley farm. Lights on, chimney smoking, a slow-moving tractor in the back field pulling up dirt.
We already passed this place, didn’t we?
Am I going in circles?
No. Of course not. It was a long shift, and I barely slid under my overtime cap this week. The sleep deprivation is fucking with me.
