Adrienne isn’t back yet.
After work I tried to rent a movie. I went to the store and spent all of two-and-a-half minutes walking past the rows of DVDs before flipping them off and leaving.
I went to the bookstore, walked in, walked past all the magazines, walked past all the photography books, walked past all the computer books, and walked back out. Total time spent in the store, 4 minutes. On the way home I stopped by Wendy’s and bought what had to be my sixth combo meal in eleven days.
I felt like I had to do something, but I never did. At 1 a.m. I went for a long drive up the canyon. The only cars I saw at all were 4 cops, lights flashing, chasing a car that showed no sign of slowing. Music playing, windows down, cold air whipping past my freezing ears and warm air blasting from the vents. Not much thinking, just driving in the dark and feeling the curves of the road and listening to music and the roar of the wind.
I drove forty miles up the canyon road and back again, passed my house and drove on. I downshifted as I started down a huge hill and felt something snap in the clutch. I lifted my foot and realized that the clutch no longer worked and that I was permanently in neutral. A 45 mph car is surprisingly hard to stop on a steep hill when you have no gears resisting it.
3 a.m. and a couple of miles from home I set out walking, the street lights cast three shadows and I watched phantom feet pounding the sidewalk ahead of me. Home, frustrated, and tired, I undressed. I pulled my shirt off over my head, felt a sharp slap and realized I had stuck my hand into the quickly spinning ceiling fan.
I lay in bed cut, bruised, and car-less, staring at the ceiling. I thought about the road and the wind and the music, and drifted off to sleep.