Gravel Road

He keeps driving. The road curves upward. We're gaining altitude. The trees thin out.

He pulls into a gravel turnout and kills the engine.

I look out the window and see lights.

The whole city spreads out below us, distant and glittering, like another world, too far away to matter. Like something we left behind.

I don’t move. Just stare ahead, at the lights, trying to make sense of this ride.

“What are we doing here?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. I hear the faint creak as he leans back in his seat.

“Thought you needed some distance to see things more clearly.”

I let out an annoyed breath through my nose. “You thought wrong.”

But I open the door anyway to escape the narrow confines.

The cold hits instantly. Sharper than I expected. I step out, wrapping my arms around myself.

Gravel crunches behind me. He’s following.

I walk a few steps toward the edge, stopping where the ground drops abruptly. The view is breathtaking.

I can feel him behind me. Not touching, but close.

“Do you bring all your dates up here?”

I actually don't want to know that. I just want to let him know that I’m aware of what’s going on. He’s been fooling around with Mom, then with Kathy. And before that, with God knows how many other women.

It stings to think that I'm only his third choice.

“No, I don’t. Sina…”

“Or is that your way of getting in the mood?” I cut in, turning halfway toward him. “You drive around until you get horny, and then you just… pick a spot?”

“That’s not true.”

“Then what is?”

He steps a little closer.

I hate to perceive how calm he looks, how unaffected, while my heart is racing and the heat is rushing to my cheeks.

“You’re upset,” he says.

I let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “Wow. Really? How observant of you to notice that.”

He remains completely unfazed by my small verbal jabs.

The wind shifts, catching my hair, pushing it into my face. I don’t fix it right away. Something is boiling inside me, **** to erupt.

“Which of the two was better?” I snap.

The words come out before I can stop them.

His expression changes. I scored a hit.

“What?”

“Kathy? Or my mom?” I **** the words out. “Who was better?”

“Don’t…”

“What?” I step closer. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

I want to punish him for what he did. It’s not right to pick up one woman after another and then dump them for the next one. But I have no idea how I could do that.

I swallow. I can hear my own heartbeat now.

A thought creeps into my mind; one I’d rather not acknowledge.

Am I jealous?

Am I acting so irritable because I feel ignored and pushed aside by him? My eyes search his, trying to find the line he won’t cross. His outward indifference is driving me crazy. I have to give him something that forces him to notice me.

I pull my top down over my shoulder.

“I’m what?” I blurt out. “Invisible? Not your type? Too young?”

“Stop.”

The word is quiet, but firm. Still, I can see beneath the surface. I can see hesitation in him. The restraint.

His jaw clenches, and he avoids my gaze as he says:

“I can’t.”

That hits me harder than I expected. Am I somehow inferior? Why can he do Mom and Kathy but not me?

I'm tempted to prove that I'm a woman, made of flesh and blood. A woman who is worth being desired. At the same time, I know it would be a mistake.

But hey, we all make mistakes sometimes, don't we?