Twenty-Seven>>>Mr. Sunshine
Here I am, sitting in the passenger seat of Harper’s car accepting my ‘Loser Of The Year’ nomination. Thank you, thank you very much. It took a lot of tripping down stairs, laughing till milk came out of my nose, and opening explosive cans of soda- but I was triumphant in getting a nomination this year.
“Harper!” I gasp, squeezing my knees together, “C’mon….I have to go so bad.”
She laughs wickedly, continuing on down the highway. “Why didn’t you go before we left the house?”
“Because I didn’t have to go then!”
“You sound like a kindergartener.”
“You sound like my mother!” I holler, studying the passing cars and trying to take my mind of my pulsing bladder. When I have to go, I have to go. “Taylor,” She exasperates, “We’ve been sitting in the car for thirty minutes tops. I am not pulling over yet. You’ll have to hold it.”
“Fine,” I grumble, sliding down in my seat, “But next time you have to go and I’m behind the wheel don’t think I’ll have any sympathy.”
“I don’t expect you to,” she replies, turning up the radio.
Thirty minutes later, Harper finally agreed to pull into Taco Bueno so I could use the bathroom. As she pulls into the parking spot, I swing the door open and run inside. I can hear her laughing from the car.
I hurry into the bathroom and shove the door open to find an older man and a boy. They look at my curiously as I run over to a stall and slam the door. No shame.
When I come back out into the restaurant, Harper is standing there waiting. “Are you hungry?” She asks me.
We left Tulsa at four on empty stomachs. Of course I’m hungry.
“Yeah, I could eat,” I try to say without unnecessary eagerness.
“Come stand in line with me then,” she says, pulling me by my arm up close to her. I put my arm around her waist as we both stare up at the menu, gently rubbing her side and enjoying her closeness.
“Three chicken burritos. And one hard, beef taco,” I finally announce.
She looks at me surprised. “I swear Taylor, I have no clue where you put it all…”
I grin at her as we step closer to the cashier. “What are you going to have?” Thankfully, Harper is not the type to be embarrassed to eat in front of me. Estelle, now Estelle was odd. She didn’t eat messy foods in front of me. She didn’t eat a lot in front of me. And she was hesitant to drink soda around me because she didn’t like burping near me.
“Probably just like two chicken burritos,” She decides, taking out her wallet. I’ll never understand why this girl feels the need to fight me to pay all the time, but she just does not rest.
I push her hand away as seen as I see her retrieve her wallet from her purse.
“Quit it,” I mutter as we step up to the cash register. “Just lemme pay and don’t put up a fight about it.”
She laughs at this for some reason, and I truly hope she takes me seriously. I am most definitely serious about this.
“What can I get for you two?” The girl behind the counter asks in a monotone voice. How trite.
“Well!” I announce, brightly but rather flamboyantly, “We would like five chicken burritos, one hard, beef taco and a large Dr. Pepper.”
“You can’t pick your soda here. You just say a large soda,” the girl explains as she punches our order into the register. Harper and I exchange amused looks. Is it really necessary to tell me so? Why not just smile and nod?
“Alright, then,” I continue my bright attitude, “One large soda then.”
“9.42,” she tells me.
I take out my wallet and give her a ten-dollar bill, nodding at the tip cup and adding, “No change, thanks.”
What do I receive? No smile, no thank you, nothing but, “Next customer!”
I exhale an annoyed grumble and shift over to the side to get our empty cup. Not wanting to, but completely necessary to in order to avoid looking like a whipped freak, I separate myself from Harper’s waist and walk over to the drinks.
“Uptight much, eh?” I remark to Harper as I get our drink.
She laughs, “Mr. Sunshine much yourself?”
I smile, “There is nothing more annoying than someone being in a bad mood when you’re in a good mood. And even more annoying is someone being in a good mood when you’re in a bad mood. I was just making her and I even.”
“Uh huh. And why are you in such a good mood?”
I put my straw in my drink and inspect her, truly pondering her question. Does, ‘because I’m with you?’ sound too corny? What the heck. If I’m corny, she already knows it.
“Because I’m with you,” I admit, giving her the most enthusiastic smile I can muster (which isn’t too difficult for me and my sunshine attitude) and go over and get our tray of food.
I follow her to a booth by the window and we sit across from each other. It is silent as we both begin to eat, and I am thankful for it. There is nothing more unbearable than a girl who expects you to make conversation while you’re first starting to enjoy your tacos. I know from experience. Men take their tacos very seriously.
We sit there contently eating our tacos and passing the soda back and forth. I nod at a couple walking into Taco Bueno. They are around 50 years old, graying, and wearing matching striped shirts.
“Look, Harp. We should coordinate outfits too.”
She laughs, wiping her mouth with her napkin and stealing the drink from me. After an unnecessarily long sip she replies, “I refuse to wear anything you’d wear, so I don’t think that’d work out.”
“Why not!?” I gasp, giving her an insulted expression. I happen to like the way I dress! It’s suave, intellectual, and fun all at the same time. Very balanced.
She looks down at my orange La Coste polo shirt, green corduroys, and clogs and raises an eyebrow at me, “Need I explain?”
I laugh and shake my head at her, “Well, fine then we can dress more like you if you’d like. But I do think we should coordinate.”
“Alright, when we’re that old,” she nods too towards the couple picking out their tacos.
Wait. Did she just say that? Did she just imply perhaps maybe, just maybe, we would still be together 30 years down the road? Suddenly, my heart jumps a little bit. The thought of being with Harper for forever is thrilling.
“I never want to be that old. I swear, as soon as I see my first gray hair one day I’m getting it dyed.”
She laughs, “And how would that be different from now?”
“Harper! I don’t dye it. I highlight it.”
She tries to suppress a laugh, I can tell, and it only is more insulting. Finally, we throw all our trash on the tray and she stands up. “C’mon. Let’s go.”
I point to the burrito in my hand, “Can you not tell I’m still eating?”
“I see that. But I want to get there before dark so let’s go.”
She picks up our tray and walks it over to the garbage, emptying everything and carefully placing the tray on top of it. “Taylor Hanson, let’s go. Walk and eat at the same time.”
I roll my eyes and stand up. Wasn’t this girl ever taught patience? I try to be annoyed with her, but as she reaches out her hand for me and I clasp it I am anything but mad.
“I’m not very coordinated in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Trust me, I’ve noticed.” Is it really necessary that I am the punch line of all her jokes. Harper really needs some new material.
As we head outside, she looks up at the sky, inspecting it. The clouds are dark and heavy. The sky is a vague brown.
“Do you see what I see?” She looks at me as I munch on my burrito.
“Tornado sky?” I ask.
“A bit. It’s just rather…brown. We should turn on the radio when we get in the car.”
I nod and pause for a moment to feel the air. “The air feels kind of still too. Tornado air.”
She grins at me, though I don’t know why, and we walk over to her car. As we’re walking, I trip over my own feet and catch my balance by yanking on her arm to stay up.
She laughs and looks at me, “Walk much?”
“I told you! No coordination! You almost killed me by making me walk and eat my burrito at the same time…” I insist, shoving the rest of it in my mouth.
She laughs loudly, letting go of my hand and going over to the driver’s seat. “Almost killed you, huh?”
I shake my head though and run over, standing in front of her. I do not want to sit in the passenger’s seat any longer. I am antsy, bored, and feel rather young and silly. I want to be the man and drive the car, and I am putting my foot down.
“Harp,” I use her nickname to soften her, “I wanna drive. Can I drive?”
She looks at me like I’m crazy, trying to push past me, “Yeah right. I’ve seen you drive your car. No way.”
“I’m a good driver. I just drive fast. But not in your car I won’t!”
“Tay, absolutely not. You’re not driving my car. You brake too much and make me feel carsick. I’m going to drive.”
I shake my head and hold her back. No. I am amazing at being stubborn, and stubborn I’m going to be. “Harper! I feel stupid sitting here next to you while you drive. I feel like a sissy.”
She laughs, “What? Are men always supposed to take control and drive?”
I nod furiously. “That is rather sexist isn’t it?”
I nod again, just as furiously. Perhaps she was touched by honest rationalization, because she hands the keys over and walks around to the passenger seat. “Be easy on her…” She warns.
I grin and climb into the drivers seat, giving her a horrified look when I noticed how close the seat is to the steering wheel. After adjusting the wheel and the seat, I put the keys in and start up the car.
“Buckle up,” I remind her, watching to make sure she really does do it. I don’t even trust my own driving enough. Once we’re all bucked up, I pull out of the parking spot and get ready to pull back onto the main road. Instead of coming to a rolling stop at the stop sign, I slam my foot in the car hard- only because she said I make her carsick when I drive. She goes lunging forward and turns and gives me an irate look.
“Taylor! Pull over! I’m driving!”
“Oh, stop!” I laugh, pulling onto the main road, “I was just joking!”
“No joking in my car!”
I bite my lip and try not to smile, managing to mutter, “Sorry, this is a very, very serious road trip. There will be no more joking in this car.” I give her my best serious look.
“You’re too much…”she finally mutters, cracking a smile. She reaches over and puts her hand in mine which is resting in between us. Under her breath I hear her add, “This is going to be a long drive…”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I smile.
“Never,” she smiles genuinely. And for once I think she isn’t joking at all. I think she means it.