And then we are back in my mother’s Volvo, cruising down dark suburban streets, trying to get Molly home before curfew, just like we’re sixteen again.
I put on Elliot Smith, because it evokes sadness and Los Angeles and I wish she wasn’t going there.
“Jesus, Seth,” Molly says, flicking the volume down. “Let’s not wallow in misery.”
“I’m going to miss you. I’m still reconciling what to do about how much I’m going to miss you.”
She strokes my neck. “It’s going to be awful,” she says.
That she agrees makes me feel better. Until she adds, “Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
I tense up.
“What?”
“Trying to be … something. Maybe it’s better as a dream than an emotionally wrenching logistical nightmare.”
“How would that be better?” My voice is too loud, too appalled. She leans away from me, closer to the door, like she’s startled.
“It’s just that we’ve had this one perfect day. Maybe we should—”
I pull the car over, put on my hazards, and turn to face her.
“Molly, why are you saying this?”
She takes a shallow, ragged breath, and I know she is on the cusp of a panic attack. I want to hold her, to physically squeeze the anxiety out of her, but we’re separated by a console and both wearing seat belts.
“I am going to ruin this, Seth,” she says. “I know myself and I will freak out and hurt you, and then you’ll realize you can’t be with me and I’ll miss you for the rest of my life.”
“Baby,” I say gently. “Is that what you really think?”
“Yes! I’m so fucking squirrelly, Seth. You have no idea.”
I laugh hoarsely through the knot in my throat. “Actually I do have an idea. I want you anyway.”
She’s quiet.
“I’ve wanted you for twenty years. You know that, right?”
She sniffles. “Yeah. Me too.”
“And I know you have your issues, and so do I, and I know this won’t be easy to do long-distance. But we have to try. Otherwise, what a waste.”
“Okay,” she whispers. It’s almost a sob. It guts me.
I reach out for her and crush her hard against my side. She puts her head on my shoulder. In the rearview mirror I can see silver tearstains on her cheeks.
I must fix those tears. We’ve been through too much for this day to be sad. The matter is not up for debate.
“I have an idea,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“What if you don’t go to LA tomorrow?”
“I can’t stay, Seth. I’m already on the verge of killing my mother.”
“Then what if we both leave? We could get a flight to Chicago and drive out to my lake house. Just the two of us. Spend the week together. Make plans. Figure out how to do this for real.”
“You’re serious?”
“So serious.”
“What about your family?”
“I’ll tell them I have to go see about a girl.”
I hold my breath.
“I’d have to be back in LA by Saturday afternoon,” she says slowly. “But you know what? Fuck it. It’s better than nothing. I’ll look up tickets.”
“Hell yeah.”
I pull back onto the road and she grabs her phone and runs through departure times. She’s purchased our tickets before we even make it to the bridge to the island. She has to remind me not to speed because I’m so high on joy and adrenaline that I accidentally go fifty in a twenty-five.
I make out with her in the car in her mom’s driveway.
When she gets out, I jump out of the car after her and make out with her again in front of her mom’s door.
