Holidays

She sits in his car and stares straight ahead. He is right beside her, but he might as well be on another planet. Sometimes she wonders if he would rather be when he is with her.

The radio is on and someone is talking about how if you don't act now, then whatever special of the week is on at whatever store will be over. She can't help but wonder why life is full of these opportunities that have an expiry date on them. Chances that, if not taken now, will slip away. The radio announcer man reminds her of this. She hates the radio announcer man.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that he is stifling a yawn. She isn't sure why. If he was doing it to not be rude, well that ship has sailed. Hmm. Another missed opportunity. An opportunity to be civil despite the circumstances. Again, her hate for the radio announcer man comes to the surface. Sometimes it's easier to project harsh feelings to people who don't even know they have it coming. Anything is easier than this.

The traffic light turns green ahead. She didn't even realize they had been stopped in the first place. It's funny how thoughts can take you on an invisible ride, that you don't even realize the one you're already on in real life is still going on whether you are aware of it or not.

"Hmm, looks busy. Might be awhile before we find a parking spot. 'Tis the bloody season."

He says this almost to himself. These days, it's very rare that a conversation is sparked purposely and directed at her.

He drives around slowly and she notices a car about to pull out beside him. She doesn't say anything. As awkward as things are, she still craves him. She still wants him beside her. She still doesn't want to share him with the outside world.

She wants to savour his absent presence for just a little longer. Because once they step foot outside of this car, she'll just be another face in a crowd of many. And right now, because it's just her and him in the car, he has to acknowledge her at some point.

Even if it's just to make a passing comment about the mundane things going on outside their window. Because even that is better than the nothing she has become accustomed to.