Moth to Flame

It's somewhere around two in the morning and I can't remember exactly where we are or where we're going or what we're going to do when we get there. I look toward Oscar, who's put the car back into motion, and ask him what he plans on doing.

"We have gas, babe," he says. "Who cares?"

Oscar has always been idealistic. He takes things as they come and hopes for the best. He knows things will be okay. Somehow, he just knows. I don't know what he sees in me, really; we're complete opposites. I love him, but we're nothing alike.

I see things for what they are: bad. Life sucks and it only gets worse. The good things, they're just a distraction. Kind of like Oscar.

"What's the matter, Frankie?" He asks.

I turn to face him. I can't tell him I regret coming along with him. I don't want to tell him that I love him, but I have doubts. So I say nothing. "I'm fine; Just a little tired."

Oscar smiles and places a hand on my knee. The gesture is warm, like him, and I know he means it when he says he loves me. Te amo. I try and smile back.

"Me too."

And I mean it. Really, I do. I love him, but I don't have faith. I never have.

"We should get a hotel, Frankie," he says, looking at me with big brown eyes. They're always wide. Like they're full of hope and amazement. He says everything God puts before him amazes him. He sees the world as something waiting to be explored, experienced. He wants to touch the world, feel the world, meet the people. He wants me to go with him and I don't want him to be disappointed. I don't want to see him disappointed.

"Why?" I ask him. "It's a waste of money."

Oscar shrugs. "I like it here."

I furrow my brow. "We don't know where we are," I point out. "It's empty and we're driving aimlessly around America."

Oscar chuckles. "We're somewhere in Kansas, Frank."

He squeezes my knee and leans over to peck my lips, but, instead, winds up catching my cheek. When he pulls away he's upset. He doesn't understand. I quickly glance to my left and catch his expression, immediately wishing I'd never done so.

"Oscar."

He knows something is wrong. It's something I said, he's thinking, something I did. The truth is, I don't want to settle with him somewhere in Kansas. I feel so different, unlike the person I was only hours earlier. I feel like I've allowed myself to be happy when, really, I shouldn't be.

"What is it?" He asks. "You were fine earlier."

I turn to face him and shake my head. "I don't want to stay somewhere in Kansas," I tell him.

Oscar slows down, pulling over on the side of the road as if a car may actually come into view and need to get by. It's a two lane road and seems as if we're the only people on Earth. When he turns the car off, he faces me.

"What's wrong?" He asks. "What's wrong with getting a hotel?"

"Nothing," I say. "I just don't want to. I want to keep driving."

"Frank--" Oscar stops himself, not knowing what to say. I bet he feels angry, but hopeful. He's never quite understood me. He loves me, but he can't comprehend pessimism. He's quite the optimist, too much so sometimes.

"I love you," I tell him, meaning every word. I love him. I do. I just wonder for how long. I wonder when things will fall apart and I'll be left somewhere in Kansas.

Oscar sighs and his hand finds the nape of my neck, his fingers weaving in and out through my hair. It's soothing and I only want to be as happy as I had been a few hours earlier. He leans forward, pressing his lips against mine.

"I love you, too, Frankie," he says. "I just wish I understood."

My forehead rests against his and I close my eyes, trying to picture his face from memory. The thick mop of hair resting on his head, his big brown eyes, a smile that makes my hear melt, it's so honest.

When I open my eyes he's still there. I can't believe he's still there.

I smile, for the first time feeling hopeful. I thread my fingers through his hair and bring his lips back to mine. I never want to leave. I want to find faith.

"I'm okay," I whisper, willing the words to be true. I want them to be true. "Let's find a hotel."