Idante 

The GPS let me know I had arrived at the pick up location. I tapped my phone to start the countdown. People in this part of a town normally drive, the houses spread far apart made the roads long. Lawn after lawn had space for a driveway yet the property I stalled outside of had short pale grass far from manicured but not nearly abandoned. Merely neglected. I pondered who may be coming out. Though I’d hit a residential area, a college town couldn’t have been more than ten maybe twenty miles away. Near midnight, I wouldn’t suspect one of those students needing to catch a cab to the next state over. This was a costly trip, $250 for nearly an hour drive into Manhattan. I only graduated college last year so really, who was I to deny the chance of easy money.

Driving kept me analyzing, my mind constantly working the roads trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else. It took problem solving in the most arbitrary way. Billions of people drive every day. But not everyone can weave through traffic and memorize the best routes. I never talk about trying to solve anagrams on license plates or looking at the moon over the road which is not something good drivers do. It’s something I do. Above all, I can think. For the moon illuminating the patches where the tower lights miss, I’d give my life. When she’s pregnant and glowing, when she grows full and spits out rebirth every month, when it’s clear enough to see her cratered skin, I want to hold her and ask what it’s like to exist in unrequited love. I fear I’ll be caught between the moon and earth's dance forever. If only I could step in and give her the attention she needs. The love to end them all. I, the Montague to her Capulet name, devote my life to our love affair except my dear Luna lives. She lives and she is released from this cruel orbit. The ocean stops churning and we all find peace. 

I squinted at my passengers name. Michael. Well Michael is certainly taking a while. I almost call him as the seconds on the timer dwindle. I’d feel bad if I left this guy out here, there’s not many people who’d make the trip at this time. Unfortunately I can’t afford to waste mine. Then, a porch light illuminates just the front door. I see a girl push past the screen door and start towards my car. Sitting up a little allows a wave of anxiety to efficiently wash over me. I’ve made a lot of trips but this certainly wasn’t Michael approaching. I could only make out her shadowy figure on the lawn but it resembled the cross. Shoulders completely squared on a rigid neck unmoving with legs shifting like a toy soldier. If she extended her arms to their full length, I was sure wings would appear just behind them. I was spellbound simply by the mystery she might contain, the tale riders often felt obliged to share. 

Elyssia 

Waiting for the car to arrive was nerve wracking. I pleaded and begged for him to let me leave, I begged for my mother and reasoned after spending the entire night trying to rationalize everything that was happening. He wouldn’t have killed me, but he certainly wanted to keep me. My tears were null and void to him, he didn’t believe them. His hand came down again and again as he told me he wouldn’t stop until they were real. I passively accepted the reality of the situation, that this may be my life forever. But I told him my mom would miss me, she is the only thing that convinced this self declared psychopath to set me free. On the flip side, I thought about how she’d absolutely kill me if she found out how far I strayed from her guidance. Never, never, under any circumstance, ever trust a stranger. There laid a strange refusal in me to give up the naïve mindset that strangers can be good if you open your heart and give them the opportunity to be. My heart got split down the middle with a beer bottle and told it was nothing but a hole to be filled with the inherently evil actions of man. 

When he announced the cab's arrival I stiffly rose and tried to make a quick exit. This middle aged man made one more final attempt to get me to stay, pouting and telling me I promised. A chill went down my spine seeing just how low he’d go to coerce me, such a childish last ditch effort to get his way. I apologized though there was no one for me to be sorry to but myself, and rushed out. My body wouldn’t be able to relax until I got into that car with a witness. My body would never be mine again. I quickly carried on never once checking behind my back. 

Instead of coming off composed as I wanted, I yanked the car door open giving a haphazard greeting and slamming the door shut. I sunk into the leather seat of the warm car and let out a deep breath. I hadn’t released one since I walked out of the door. The gentle voice of a young man greeted me, yet I did not open my eyes. He made a point to joke about the fact I am not Michael. I told him I was ready to go. I lamented the idea of riding with someone so close to age as me, a man at that. I held my eyes shut for a few more moments preparing myself to perform for the male gaze. Happy and hot, be happy and hot. 

I asked him how he was. He said it’d been a long night. He commented on how far I was going. I laughed and agreed that it was far. I did not offer an explanation. He asked for one anyway. I said I was visiting someone and had to leave at the last minute. What could’ve caused me to leave so suddenly, he asked. 

The question brought tears to my eyes. Horrors beyond your comprehension, I almost say but I dance around the question explaining I need to get to campus in the morning. It’s only now I study him from the rear view mirror. I pretend he can’t see me. My head is spinning and he doesn’t know that. If he did, he’d drive slower. He seems kind like that. Maybe I’ve been drugged. Hardly able to keep my eyes open I still will myself to stay awake. If I close my eyes I may end up back in that house and that’s darker than anything this conversation could conjure up. If my heart stops suddenly burning from pain while flying down a highway, I’d like someone to notice. I keep slipping away, forgetting myself day after day, silently hoping someone will notice. To intervene in a way I’ve lost the will to. Every trial ends in error but this ride is low stakes. I am bound to his watchful eye whether he likes it or not.