The chatty man is now quiet. When he was driving she kept him company, both because he's interesting and he needs to stay awake. They are in her ten year old Subaru, still carrying the scars of a break-in from a few weeks ago. The stereo is still missing, and the passenger door, though locks tightly, still sticks out a little so that the wind that caresses the the sides of the car at high speed creates a loud and deep sound on this quiet highway. They switched places at the first rest stop out of the city. She knows he was trying to stay awake to keep her company, even though he had warned her that he might fall asleep and she encouraged him to do so. As soon as she put her hands on the steering wheel, the droplets became bigger and fell more rapidly. And by the time she got onto the highway, the sound made by the broken door was muffled by the pounding of the rain on the windshield. And as if that wasn't bad enough, huge trucks of different sizes and logos started appearing. They have caught up the truck traffic as she sped through the rain past three in the morning.
He is now quiet. His head dips down every now and then, his lips part, but the rest of his body, slouching, is immobile. She takes a look at him, just to be sure that he's really sleeping. Then she focuses her attention back on the road. There are hardly any cars, and the few that are there seem to be too much in a hurry to care about the dangerous conditions of the road and the trucks that make it ever riskier to speed past or between them. It was her first time driving from the city, her first time in the city, and until the honking and the traffic rattled her mind, it was also her first time driving in the Big Apple. Having spent her entire life so far in the mountainous, sparsely populated Northwest, these few hours in the city were quite an adventure. Her great sense of adventure was surely tested, but also rewarded. It wasn't about any particular event, sight, person, or anything concrete, it was the experience that is slowly crystallizing into an image in her mind now. The pouring rain is battling with the wipers, and the view in front of her is never entirely clear. It's almost like an impressionist painting; even more modern than that because against the gray background is just one color: red. The color from the rear lights of the cars before her. And her memory of the city, of her first time in this confusing city, is also being painted at this moment.
She wants to savor not just the experience, but the process of watching the experience being painted in her mind. She hasn't said much to the chatty man, who grew up in the very city they had just left. She thinks he is interesting, not the very least has attitudes not entirely familiar to him. Like the city he is in many ways unfamiliar but friendlier than expected. Despite the constant honking that greeted her but seemed entirely normal to him, the city gave them a parking space as soon as they started searching. The people they met at the dance, the main reason for which they went, were very friendly, though a large number aren't even from New York. He is a stranger to her in many ways. They only know each other in terms of the dance, and only today they had a chance to talk when they were driving to the city and having their dinner together. He had been asking a lot of questions about her, but he wasn't reserved about answering her questions either. But it was all rather superficial until just before the dance he made a comment about how she never joined any sororities. He told her a belief he had based on a quote from some famous book whose name she by now has forgotten. He told her that it's better to live your own life imperfectly than to live perfectly the imitation of someone else's life, a criticism of any cliques like a sorority. She didn't respond to that, but the words stayed with her, and his voice too.
The city has a lot to show, it's true. But with all that offering, it's difficult to understand what you really want out of it. She was excited to go to the city, and she left it without harboring any disappointment. But what is it that she wants now from the city? Her thoughts were forming and being wiped immediately like the water on the windshield. Her thoughts start to distract her from her driving and she gets too close to the truck, resulting in pressing the brakes fast enough the wake up the previously quiet man slouching next to her. He puts his left arm on her right one, and mumbles his question, "You OK? OK driving?" He's worried that he's not being a good company. She assures him that everything is all right.
Then he disappears again to some place resembling sleep but probably not quite. She doesn't understand if there is any connection between them. They aren't even friends, at least not the way she's used to. When she dances with him, she feels safe, comfortable, as if she's with her best friend living still on the other side of the country. She has told him a lot about her friends and a little about her family, and he hasn't said anything about his world. But flip side is that that one statement about how to live your life, sharing his belief, was something she never could imagine sharing with him. She doesn't know how old he is, what he does for a living, and the only reason she knows where he lives now is that she had to pick him up. It's strange how we share different things with the other person depending on our own background, our internal customs, and our trust in that other person. We often don't even think about these factors; our hearts delivers commands without words.
She is glad he is asleep. She needs her time alone now. She doesn't always know she needs time alone, and often she is surrounded by people and almost never does that bother her. And yet, when she does get time alone, like now, she realizes how much she misses it and needs it. At least to pain the experience of those few hours in the city she has only seen in movies.
The last exit before entering their little sleepy town flashes in front of her. And magically he wakes up. Although she hasn't figured out yet what connection she has with this human being that has just returned from his slumber, she is happy that the evening went well. It's now nearly 4AM, the rain at some point has died down, and she is just happy to be home. Her new home.
