the long drive

We set out early, before the sun rose over the fields. The road unwound before us, a long ribbon of asphalt. We didn't fight, not exactly. The air was heavy with unspoken things. I thought about the way my mother used to drive, her hands gripping the wheel at ten and two. My father would tease her about it, saying she looked like a student driver. They're both gone now. I glanced over at her, my companion, my...we didn't talk about it. The landscape outside was a blur of green and brown, like a watercolor painting left out in the rain. I remembered a story my grandmother used to tell, about a couple who drove across the country, never stopping, never speaking. They just kept driving, into the void. I wondered what that would be like. To just keep moving, never looking back. We stopped for lunch at a diner, the kind of place that serves eggs and pancakes at any hour. The waitress had a warm smile, the kind that puts you at ease. I ordered the special, whatever it was. She didn't. We ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of silverware on plates. Afterward, we got back in the car, and kept driving. The sun beat down on us, relentless. I thought about the way the light changes, the way it can be both beautiful and cruel. We drove through a town, the main street lined with shops and restaurants. A movie theater, a bookstore, a place that sold handmade jewelry. I wondered what it would be like to live in a place like that, to be able to walk to the store, to know your neighbors. We didn't stop. We just kept driving. The landscape outside began to change, the fields giving way to mountains. The air grew cooler, the shadows deepening. I thought about the way my life has been, a series of small, unremarkable moments. The way I've never really done anything, never really taken a chance. The way I've just drifted, on the current of circumstance. I glanced over at her, my companion, my...I don't know what to call her. She was staring out the window, her eyes fixed on some point in the distance. I wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling. We didn't talk about it. We just kept driving, into the unknown.