Until the Moon Burns

It was far too hot in the car as I drove down the road. The thick, humid air made it hard to breathe; the intensity of the sun seemed to fill my lung, constricting my windpipe. The soft asphalt worried me-I kept my speed high because I was scared to slow down in case the tyres gripped the asphalt too much. My trusty black Audi A4 had served me well since I had been given it as a present from my mother. (She was going to Australia and I had always loved the car, she just hired one when she got there. It was easier.) It was, actually, the best gift I had ever received, even if there was a dent in the side that I couldn’t get out no matter how much I threatened and screamed at the car.
I had the window down fully, to invite some breeze in, but it was still difficult to breathe. I groaned, brushing my defiant fringe back and staying as focused as I could on the road. Luckily for me, there were few cars on the road, so it was easy to weave between them. The traffic lights seemed to be my friend as well; we rarely hit a red light. I liked the lack of traffic so far, though we were around two hours from Forks, so I was cautious.
“I hope it’s like this in Forks,” I smiled, turning to my mother, Emma.
She was fast asleep in the passenger seat. I tutted, shaking my head. Great, I had no company for the rest of the trip.
It wasn’t that I enjoyed her company particularly; it was just that I’d rather talk to her than nobody. Her short spiky blonde hair jutted out in odd angles over the seat, her eyes shut tightly, and she snored softly, her mouth open.
It was times like these when I really loved her, when she became my mum, not someone I occasionally got calls or letters from, usually my birthday or a holiday. Of course I loved her anyway, but the way she acted bothered me sometimes. The way she travelled around, leaving me behind, it just wasn’t what a mother would do.
“I’m sorry, darling, but I really do want to go, I’ve never been and I’ll never have the opportunity again...” Those were her usual words. Except she almost certainly had been before and the opportunity more often than not did come around again, and she would go again. I was used to it.
I kept driving for a while, in silence. I didn’t want to turn the radio on because it would wake her, and then I pulled into a service station as I began to tire.
“Mum? Mum? Mum, wake up. Get up!” I shook her, trying to wake her.
“We there?” She asked, groggily rubbing her eyes like a child. She wasn’t a bad mother, I had adored her as a child, the problem was she just simply wasn’t there.
“Not yet. I’m going to sleep for a while, so you need to take over.”
She nodded, and I gave her a half hour and a very expensive coffee that I grudgingly had to pay for to wake up. I was buckled in with a pillow under my head and my eyes shut before she had even started the car.
I had the strangest dream.