Halfway

Halfway

Matthew McFarland

Tyler Bridges had almost hit the car in front of him before he noticed it. He slammed on the Nissan's brakes, and shut his eyes tight. The car screeched to a halt behind the Caddy, whose driver looked back with a scowl.

Oh, just be glad it isn't raining, thought Tyler, and looked at the floor. His tapes had been in the open glove compartment; now they were on the seat, the floor and God knew where else.

He pulled into a parking lot and collected tapes, and threw them on the seat. He looked around for his backpack and thought for a moment he had left it at home – or worse, at Dani’s apartment - and then remembered it was in the trunk.

Tyler could have gone without directions. He wasn’t great at finding his way in the dark, but he could have managed. He just wanted Erika’s letter by his side while he drove. He opened his trunk and got out of the car, pulled the book bag out and tossed it onto the floor of the back seat. He got in again, and dug around until he found the envelope. The paper inside smelled of vanilla, and he took a moment to inhale before re-reading the directions to her house.

The bypass was lined with streetlamps. They beckoned him like will-o-the-wisps, and he followed, because he couldn't go back now if he wanted to. He'd promised to be there by 1:00 A.M., and that meant a nonstop drive.

He pulled away from the guardrail sharply. His heart slammed against his chest, trying to force enough blood to his brain to wake him up. He cracked the window and let the chilly October air numb his nose. He knew he wouldn't leave it open long, but it kept him awake.

He slapped in a tape and turned on the stereo. Harsh guitar and a nasal voice with a British accent sang about Charlie Brown. He turned it down. He would have preferred something softer - Depeche Mode, perhaps, or even something classical - but that wasn’t driving music. Driving music was loud, steady, sharp, and best accompanied by Mountain Dew. "Damn," he said aloud, slapping the steering wheel. He had forgotten to buy snacks for the trip.

The punk band was still playing when he pulled into the service plaza. He stopped short of ramming a sorority chick with a blue sweatshirt and too much makeup. She glared at him. He gave her his best "I'm an idiot" smile and shrugged. She walked towards her car, and Tyler's face fell back into place. He always felt a relax when he removed expression, sort of an "at ease" command for his face. He watched her walk away. Her jeans were too tight. If you want to show me your ass, go naked, Tyler thought. Those things can’t be comfortable.

He waited until she had driven off to lean across the seat, unlock the passenger door, and pull himself out of the car. He locked the door and smoothed his hair. He hated climbing over a seat to get out of his car. It embarrassed the hell out of him.

He bought his Dew and a bag of cheese curls, and drove on, munching and sipping and listening to his mix-tape, which had changed from British punk to 80’s techno. The streetlights had disappeared, and scent on the envelope was guiding him on, knowing the scent was on her hair, and that he would brush her hair until it turned to long black silk in his fingers.

He glanced up at his mirror and saw a pair of headlights tailing him at about six inches. OK, OK, he thought, and flipped on his turn signal. As he edged his car right, he noticed that the quarter-sized bruise on his neck had not shrunk appreciably since earlier that evening. "Damn," he whispered. He had meant to change his caramel-colored mock-turtleneck for a button-down shirt, but there hadn't been time. Oh, well, he thought. It'll be too dark for her to see. Not that that makes it all right, of course. He slouched in his seat. He didn't know what he'd been thinking, seeing Dani before leaving. He knew she would jump him, and he couldn’t very well say no. Serve him right if Erika did notice.

He hadn't told Erika there was a certain third-grade teacher he'd been banging regularly for months now, but that was because he wasn’t sure how long he was staying with said teacher. Dani was fun, true, but Tyler was beginning to feel squashed by her. He really wasn’t sure what he'd do, but somehow his conscience allowed him to play both ends against the middle, and continue seeing them both. And on the other hand, as oppressive as Dani could sometimes be, Tyler had to admit that –

Tyler swung his car into the left lane just in time to avoid a pickup truck that had apparently stalled. The truck’s blinkers were on, but Tyler hadn’t noticed until he’d nearly hit it. “Damn,” he panted. He was really too tired to be driving at night.

He took another swig of Dew and closed the bottle, and turned up the music, which was now R.E.M. The road was empty and dark, and it dared him to drive on, to see what was just beyond the reach of his headlights. He sped up to 75 miles an hour, thinking of a woman waiting for him 100 miles away.

He stretched and felt a pain in his foot. He rubbed it. It still ached from when he'd kicked the chair in Dani's classroom. He hadn’t really done it on purpose, he had been “storming around”, as his mother used to say, and hadn’t noticed the chair. Dani, of course, had taken the opportunity to reprimand him about keeping his temper, but damn it, that was hard to do these days. Especially if he’d knocked her up. He hated that phrase. It sounded abusive and demeaning, and he only thought it as punishment to himself. Knocked her up, he thought. He wasn’t sure if the thought made him more afraid or angry, but it made a cold bead of sweat roll down his side from his armpit.

"And then to turn around and fuck her today," he cried, whipping the steering wheel from side to side. The Nissan' s already bald tires lost their grip and skidded momentarily. Tyler resisted the urge to slam on the brakes and steered with the skid, righting the car. 'Course, if I were killed on the highway, I'd be exempt from child support, he thought, gnawing on his cheek. Would my folks be exempt, though?

He cranked up the music in an attempt to stop thinking and sang along, mimicking the singer perfectly. The song was ending when the first drops hit the windshield.

He started, and looked at the road. It was rapidly disappearing from view. He flipped on the wipers and slowed to 55 miles an hour. The rain was increasing in intensity. This was apparently the storm moving west along the state that his mother had mentioned that morning.

"Fuck my timing, anyway," he muttered. He was reaching over to turn down the music when he saw the truck.

The truck was about ten feet in front of him, and moving much more slowly. It was rounding a bend, but Tyler couldn't see this. His windows were fogged and he was tired, and his only thought was to slow down quickly.

He slammed his foot on the brakes. They grabbed and locked. The rear of the car spun out right, and Tyler felt his car leave the road. Tyler had his eyes shut tight. All he felt was his head whip from right to left. Then he heard a crunch, saw a bright yellow-white flash, and lost consciousness.

When he woke up, it was because he heard voices. At first, he thought he was in a hospital, but then the voices gave way to music. He knew then that it was just another song starting.

That wasn't bad. That song was only a song removed from the last one he remembered hearing. He tried to lift his left arm to check his watch, and found he couldn't feel it. It was between the seat and his body, and at such an awkward angle it had fallen asleep.

He opened his eyes and let his vision focus. His left eye felt sticky and thick, and wouldn't open. He was lying on his left side, partially curled up on the driver’s seat. His left arm had been pinned under him, and his head was resting uncomfortably on the driver’s side armrest. As his senses slowly returned to him, he realized the car was lying on the passenger side.

He unbuckled his seat belt, and dropped onto the passenger door. Adjusting himself so that he was sitting instead of in a heap, he started flexing his left arm. As feeling returned, he realized that his vision was clouding. He wiped his eyes, and drew back bloodied hands. The armrest upon which his head had been resting was also bloody.

He pulled down the vanity mirror and looked at his face. His left eye was swollen shut, and the was a nasty-looking cut on his forehead. It doesn't look deep, Tyler thought, trying to calm down. It's just bleeding a lot. It's not deep. He reached in the back seat and pulled a sock from his bookbag, and pressed it against his forehead. It stung, but he realized the need to keep pressure on it.

Without thinking, he unlocked the driver's side door and tried to open it. The handle moved with no resistance. That door doesn't open, idiot, thought Tyler.

He eased his body down against the passenger door, thinking that things could be worse. He was not seriously hurt, he didn't think, and at least the rain had stopped. The trucker who caused this mess in the first placed had probably seen what happened, and Tyler would be in an ambulance soon, or at least a tow truck. He'd have to call Erika, but at least he'd be okay.

Under the music, he heard a beep. He switched off the tape. Nothing. But he'd heard his watch beep.

"That can't be right," he said, the words slurred through swollen lips. He looked at his wrist, but his watch had come off, and he didn't feel like pawing around for it. But that watch went off every hour on the hour, and he'd just heard a half-hour ago. If it was going off now, only a half-hour had passed and it was midnight. That wasn't so bad.

But no, if that were true, the tape wouldn't have been at the same point. The tape was 90 minutes long. That meant it was 1:00am.

Erika's gonna go nuts, thought Tyler. But his thought gave way to one more horrifying: If he'd been here for an hour and a half, why had no one stopped?

Tyler blew the horn. It blared out into the darkness. He squinted out the cracked windshield and tried to look at his surroundings. He seemed to be in some sort of valley. His driver side headlight was out, and he could only see along the ground.

It took a moment for the significance of all this to register, but it did, and Tyler wished it hadn't. His car was lying on the passenger side in a ditch. He hadn't even seen the ditch from the road, so there was no reason to assume anyone else would, either. He might not be seen until morning. He sighed. That would be a pain, but not fatal. Not really debilitating, either. He just had a scalp wound. He removed the sock from his head, and immediately a fresh stream of blood ran down his face. He looked at the sock. It had been white, now it was muddy red. How much was he bleeding?

He switched on the tape. He didn't want to think about this. The song was ending. Wonderful, more silence. He just didn't want it to be quiet. He didn't want to think about the possibilities of this situation. He didn't want to panic.

The next song started. It was an 80's pop song by some one-hit wonder he couldn't remember. He had put it on the tape because he'd lost his virginity to it years ago, and even now it brought a queer smile to his face as he remembered her. Sex had progressed a great deal since then, he thought. It had been clumsy and somewhat embarrassing with his first lovers. Neither he nor they had known what to say or how to say it. He always said he felt comfortable with a woman when knew if he could say the word "fuck" in bed and not offend her.

Dani was like that. She talked like a porn star in bed. Tyler loved that, loved the feeling of approval he got from telling him what to do, oohing and ahhing over his affections. On the other hand, Dani wasn't much for perfume and roses. No, Dani liked it when he threw her down and started fucking.

Erika was the other way. It was Valentine's Day sex as opposed to Fourth of July sex. Sex with Erika was sweet, prolonged, and very sensual. He always felt lightheaded afterwards, and his head would swim with the sent of vanilla, the wax of the candles (almost always by candlelight), and the subtle but unmistakable body smell of sex. He played the two styles back and forth for a moment, trying to decide which one he really preferred.

Of course, either would have knocked up Dani. He winced at his own unbidden thought, and the wince hurt his face. Yeah, you could have quit fucking Dani and left for Erika's earlier and not been here.

He was cold. His head was still bleeding, and it was pounding. His heart quickened as he tried to think of what it might feel like to have a concussion. Tyler looked at the window and considered breaking it, but decided against it. He had no desire to try to crawl over broken glass, and reminded himself he was probably in no real danger.

Probably not, he scoffed mentally. Not until you get back to town and Dani asks you what happened to your face and Erika insists on rushing down to see you. Then you're going to die. He tried to shut himself up, but he couldn't. Slut, his mind accused. One girl miles in one direction waiting for you, one miles in the other wishing you'd stayed. And you dying of a head wound. Not dying, he insisted. His heart began pounding in time with his head, and he decided to kick out the window, and glass be damned. He tried to lift his left leg up to pivot his body, opening his legs for the first time in hours.

Tyler cried out as a shooting pain tore through his thighs. He couldn't get his legs around enough to aim his foot at the window, and even if he could break it, he realized, he certainly couldn't walk. "What the fuck did I do to myself?" he gasped, clutching as his thigh. Fucked yourself up good, he answered silently. "Nice and good," he whimpered. He gently set himself against the door again. He had never broken a bone or torn a muscle in his life, and he had no idea which this was. All he could think of was Phineas, the character in A Separate Peace, a book he had read in high school. Phineas had died because he broke his leg and some bone marrow had escaped into his bloodstream and stopped his heart. Is that possible?, thought Tyler desperately .

He bit his swollen bottom lip. It wasn't dying that scared him. It was dying here. Dying now. With neither girl knowing about that other. He imagined them meeting at his funeral, and choked back a lump in his throat. The lump burst forth as a coughing sob when he imagined Dani pregnant by him, and him dead. He didn't know if she was pregnant, not for sure. She was sure, but he wanted to know.

It started raining again. He felt a drop on his right temple and realized that the driver side window was still open a bit. He reached up to close the window and felt another bolt of pain in his leg. He sat back down with a thud and tried to position himself to avoid the rain. It didn't work.

He loved rain, normally. He loved to sit on his couch and watch the rain, and think how glad he was to be in here watching it. That's the problem now, he thought. I can't think that. He felt tears welling up again and swallowed the lump in his throat. Crying won't help me stay alive, he thought.

He laid his head against the headrest and shut his eye. He was thinking about Erika and Dani intermittently. He was seeing them smile at him, Erika's sweet I-love-you smile and Dani's hurry-up-and-get-over-here smile. He couldn't decide which he liked more, being a knight in shining armor or a lover sneaking in the back door.

He was almost asleep when the thunderclap woke him. He felt drugged and sleepy, but suddenly thought that sleep might be the body's way of easing death. That woke him up, and he tried to think about anything, anything but death, but all that came to mind was the dog he'd had as a boy. Amber was a hyperactive golden retriever, and one day he'd come home to his father telling him the Amber was dead and had eaten something poisonous in the woods. And Tyler had been sad but not cried because it that didn't seem right somehow, that Amber should die like that, that didn't work right. It was years later when Tyler remembered that his father had mentioned getting rid of Amber because the house they were moving to had no space for her, and Tyler had screamed and cried and begged. And then Amber died and it seemed not right somehow.

Tyler stopped himself. These were stupid thoughts. But now he was right back to thinking about death, and then Dani and the baby, and then Erika, sweet Erika who never got excited or overly happy about anything, just looked in love. Even spacey. She was always so happy to be in love. Tyler wondered what she loved more, him or love. "Was it love, or was it the idea of being in love?", after all, thought Tyler, his mind playing Pink Floyd because the tape had stopped.

And he didn't know. And there was no way to find out, lying in a ditch bleeding and thinking about dogs. He would have to stay alive and find out. And stay alive for Dani. Because dying here wouldn't be right, it would be like Amber. You don't just find out you got someone pregnant and then go die. That doesn't seem to fit, thought Tyler. That doesn't work.

He realized that he would have to find a way back home. Dani would come to hospital and get him. He would be all right. He wouldn't die now. That wouldn't be right.

He saw a red and blue flicker and his windshield. He smiled gently. It wouldn't be right, he thought, and closed his eyes.

No reproduction is allowed without the author’s express permission.

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