Now that we are in the car I realize she is drunk. Her eyes are feral, all iris. I know reason has shattered in her mind. Waves of disorientation flow from her as I pull out of the parking lot; fast, irresponsibly so, stupidly so. The top is, unreasonably, down, the trees arching above the road a blur of motion in the high beams. I realize I am drunker than I thought. I should be paying attention to my driving on the twisting, empty country road, but her mere presence in the car is overwhelming. Danger and consequences have been boiled off by the bourbon.
The bar had been warm and collapsed on itself at this furthest moment of the year. Just us locals, all familiar; castaways huddled together, sheltering from the storm of loneliness outside. When the nights get long I become aware of our smallness, the bar is a spaceship in the dark of outer space, a luminescent bubble floating in the space time continuum.
Next to me, her face is lit up by the phone. Through my drunken haze I have a moment: I see her simultaneously as her young self in high school and the mature, still beautiful woman she is now. It’s like I have developed four dimensional vision; I have become a Tralfamadorian. I am simultaneously in the car, driving to her house as well as driving to her parents house - thirty years in between. We haven’t done this in many years - spouses and children in the way.
Thunder Road starts playing. Now I know why she was so focused on her phone. More time traveling: we are at the edge of the water, up on a cliff high above the dark sea. We have made a small fire to ward off the chill and share a ratty blanket that I keep in the car. We are having an intense conversation like only late adolescents can when the song comes on, an anthem to escaping from quiet desperation. We stop talking and listen, really listen to the song. We see ourselves projected onto the future in its lyrics; it sends our conversation on dark and unexpected paths. I tell her that I often come to this very same place alone at night and listen to cetacean surf below. The deep dark sea calls to me at those times and I feel a strong compulsion to just jump. After a pause she says that she has had that same crazy self destructive impulse.
We arrive at her dark house as the song ends; she invites me in as she opens the car door. I hesitate for a second and she frowns at me. I know it has taken her some effort even through her inebriation. I get out of the car and take her hand. We cross the threshold and freefall into the sea.