three fifty seven

The car’s air-conditioned interior provides respite from the humidity of her waiting; each layer of her clothes sucking through the next at her skin.

He notices she is dressed as for school and as she sits down uncomfortably in her skirt, settling the satchel between her shoes, the car fills quickly with the odour of smoke still saturating her jacket.

He asks how she is feeling and she responds with

ache¹ before she became ache¹: I’m tired. I didn’t really sleep too much last night. And I’m starving.

deleted name: Didn’t you have any breakfast?

ache¹ before she became ache¹: I didn’t think I was allowed.

No memory of this car comes back to her throughout their short journey.

She wishes he would turn on the radio but she is afraid to ask, and today lacks the confidence to reach out and try the buttons herself.

deleted name: You really stink of smoke. Have you been, what have you been

ache¹ before she became ache¹: I burnt my diaries.

but the engine’s sudden acceleration compromises the effect desired for her portent.

deleted name: What’s that?

She knows the potency of her revelation is much weakened in its need of repeating, but again

ache¹ before she became ache¹: I burnt my diaries. I took ‘em to this... place, and I burnt them.

deleted name (looking across at her): Why? Why would you do that?

ache¹ before she became ache¹ (shrugs): I just... It felt like the right thing to be doing.

deleted name: You’ll live to regret it, I can guarantee that. Jesus. How many years’ worth?

ache¹ before she became ache¹: Some.

They move amongst the traffic in silence awhile.

deleted name: So how come you kept a diary, if you were just going to

ache¹ before she became ache¹: My parents gave me one for Christmas years ago.

which bursts a laugh from off his face.

ache¹ before she became ache¹: Why’s that funny?

deleted name: Your parents. That’s so transparent.

ache¹ before she became ache¹: What?

deleted name: Well, think about it. Why would any parent give their child a diary? Why would anyone give someone they lived with a diary?

The car’s progress slows as they come into busier streets and an increased frequency of traffic lights chokes the flow of vehicles into the city proper. Times when she thinks he is distracted by the driving and won’t notice she reaches down into the satchel between her legs and pats E.T. gently upon his head, which she is doing when she somehow realises they are definitively stopped, and he is handing her a map with his own handwritten annotations.

deleted name (as she is reading): Does that make sense?

ache¹ before she became ache¹ (nodding): Uh-huh... yeah, yeah.

deleted name: Here.

and places upon her palm the quarter dollar coin, its moose head up and to the sun. She says without hint of understanding

ache¹ before she became ache¹: That won’t be enough.

and the coin is gone, replaced with the tiny weightless silver token for her subway ride.

deleted name: That’s all you’ll need. You’re only two stations away.

She drops the counter and map into her bag.

ache¹ before she became ache¹ (opening the door): Is this going to hurt me?

deleted name: What?