Dark Street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a story that could very well be part of a novel, if you guys think it has potential to be one, let me know.

Submitted: July 01, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: July 01, 2015



I peered out the window at the dark street, holding my breath as headlights appeared in front of the house. My bags were all packed and waiting for me at the front door. I took a moment to look at Aaron rather than rushing downstairs. I don’t really know what caused this hesitation. I wasn’t really questioning why I was leaving, just...he was sleeping there. The malice was gone from his face and-in this light- he looked like an innocent child. The faint light that trickled through the shades was just enough to make out his facial features. His dog tags glimmered slightly. I wanted to kiss him, stroke the hair on his forehead like a mother tucking in her child. But I stopped myself, knowing full well that even a touch could risk waking him up. Instead, I whispered to him.

“I’m sorry. I love you. I loved you so much.” I said these words out of ceremony, yet they brought tears to my eyes. I sniffed. “It was never supposed to be this way.” I meant it. I couldn’t honestly be upset about how things turned out had there never been hope of a well-loved future. My legs were pulling me towards the door, but I wouldn’t move them. “I loved you.” I whispered again. Why was I lingering? There was nothing I could do or say. I had said everything and he still hadn’t listened. Just go. I told myself. Just a few steps. But still I hesitated. Staring at a love that would die as I walked out the door.

I took the scarf from around my neck and placed it on the bed next to him. I hoped he would see it and understand though the chance that he would was low. He would see it and think that the bitch left it for him to remind him of what he could no longer have. But that wasn’t true.

I somehow pushed my feelings deep into myself and let myself be devoured by numbness. It was only with this cold numbness that I found the strength to walk out the door, tip-toe my way down the stairs, and slip out the door. I walked towards the car, bags held in trembling hands. My body shook, my emotions fighting their way out of me. I held them fast. There would be a time, but it wasn’t now. The red car glinted with the light of one lonely streetlight that sat in front  of the run-down house. It was one of those old school cars that resembled a cross between a Charger and ‘69 Impala. I didn’t know enough about cars to know what it was called. I walked up to it, forcing myself to keep my head straight. If I looked back it would only hurt more. My stomach was tying itself up. I knew that this was the best option, but why did I feel like I was heading towards my own demise?

Ryan didn’t say a word as I placed my two small bags in the backseat of his car. I  walked over to the passenger side. I kept my eyes on him until I was in the car with my seatbelt in place. I didn’t trust myself to look at that house. Part of me wishes I did, one last look at what I was leaving would’ve made what was coming look a lot brighter. But I didn’t. A ghastly shiver racked my body as I stared at Ryan.

“Are you cold?” he asked. His hands were positioned on the wheel. I shook my head. He paused a moment longer as if he was waiting for me to tell him to drive. I just couldn’t do that. After another moment, he turned the key and the engine came to life. Then we began our long journey into the future.

We drove mostly in silence. I leaned against the door, my hair floated in the wind. The cool night air seemed to draw even more heat out of me. We weaved our way through the weary streets of town until we reached an extraordinarily empty highway. I closed my eyes.

Ryan gently nudged my arm, it dragged me out of my sleep. I didn’t open my eyes, the events of the last night returned to me all too fast.

“Abby, the sun’s coming up.” he said. I didn’t open my eyes.

“You woke me up because of the sun? Are you serious?” I groaned. I stretched my arms out in front of me and opened my eyes.

The sun was just beginning to lighten up the sky. A faint yellow line embraced the horizon, foretelling that day would soon come. The air was a special kind of cold, the kind that my father would describe as ‘crisp’. The road reached out in front of us until it kissed that horizon line. On either side of the long road were vast empty fields.

“People always talk about sunsets, but sunrise is where it’s at.”  Ryan said. I smiled. The sun. The warm, mysterious sun. I turned to see the road behind us, it didn’t look even slightly familiar. But i could see that the street in that direction was shrouded in darkness. I turned my face back towards the sun, it seemed even stronger and more brilliant in comparison to the road behind us. I stared into those simple rays of sunshine.

“It’s gonna be a good day.” I said. He turned to me and nodded with a little smile.

Our little red car zoomed down the interstate, away from the darkness and into the fresh light of day. The metaphor was obvious and it reminded me of that old saying: “yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift and that’s why it’s called the present.” All of a sudden, I got the urge to yell into the wind. I knew that my voice would only taper down the road behind us, but I didn’t care. I was gone. Never again would my day depend on the mood of somebody else.I could do what I wanted, I could be who I wanted, I could pursue dusty dreams that I had long since given up on. The scars Aaron had given me would fade with time and with them my memories of him. Maybe in the city, I would find someone who was warm and dependable. Or maybe I’d spend my life with friends. My imagination was on the brink of reality on this road. I could learn to speak Russian and become a translator for the U.N., or maybe I could write a book about my experience and go on Oprah to talk about it.

“Why don’t you pull out one of my CDs?” he offered. They’re in the glove compartment. I opened it and was met with about as many CDs as a person could have in a glove compartment. But my eyes caught on one that I was fond of. I pulled it out, risking the pile of CDs it was under falling over. Then I scanned it’s back for the one I most wanted to hear. I took it out of it’s case and put it in the CD player. Then quickly flipped it to the song I wanted. “What’s this one called?” he asked.

“It’s called  Dog Days Are Over by Florence and the Machine.” I said.
“Good choice.” was all he said.

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