“I can only see you at night, you know, because of all that’s happened” she said, looking at me with her eyes, barely visible from behind her hair.
“Does it matter anymore?” I asked, focusing only on the street ahead.
“It doesn’t, not really. Not anymore, anyway.”
Shadows shifted across her face as I drove deeper into the night; the deep thrum of the engine changing in tone as I changed gears and stepped on the gas. We were driving aimlessly, but I drove as if I had a destination in mind. I hadn’t. It was all for her; the need to keep us in the air, to float in between time. She lowered the window allowing the night’s breeze to finger her dark hair, the scent of her body mixing with the air from outside. The smell of rain locked down with her. I had to remember that.
“I was looking for you the other day,” she said. “I called your office but someone told me you were out for the day.”
“Why didn’t you call my mobile?”
“I wanted to and I was about to, but I changed my mind at the last minute.”
“I was alone yesterday, there was not reason for you not to,” I said.
“I guess, but I didn’t know you were alone. You never tell me anything.”
I shrugged. I was still unsure on whether I should look at her. She wanted me to, I could tell by the way her slim shoulders leaned forward, expectant.
“You smell nice,” I said finally. This took her by surprised. She sat back a moment before looking at me.
“I just woke up, and I came straight from sleep,” she said. A smile was about to emerge, I could tell.
“I like the smell,” I said, “I’ve always liked that smell.”
She smiled, but kept quiet.