Learning How to Smile

I push the speeder further down once we pass the city line. The surroundings quickly switch from heavily populated streets and tall buildings everywhere to desert.

It’s not as hot as I’d hoped. It was hot when we drove through the same landscape a few days ago. We sweat like pigs on that bus. We didn’t even dare to crack open a window, because outside, the heat danced over the sand. But once we reached the city, it was oddly cool, as if all of Las Vegas had a build in ventilation system, even on the open streets.

It was because of the heat that I insisted on buying a convertible. You wanted a car with air conditioning, but I wouldn’t wanna risk it breaking. After all, it was a used car dealership and everyone knows that used cars only work at the dealer’s. Once you’ve signed the papers and driven 4 blocks, something always breaks. On this car, the roof wouldn’t go all the way down, which means it’s currently creaking and slowly falling apart behind us, but that doesn’t matter. In fact, I wish it would just fly off.

I look over at you briefly. You’re leaning your head on your arm, letting the wind cool you down. I knew I was right about choosing a convertible rather than an air conditioned car.

I look ahead at the endless road and desert. I feel so small. I feel so free. I feel as if we’re getting nowhere.

I push the pedal to the floor, not even caring about speed limits or speed in general. I just wanna get out of here. Actually, I wanted to get out of Nevada all together, not just Vegas, so I should’ve taken a left instead of a right a few miles back, but by luck, I noticed we’re avoiding driving through a city by going this way. Also, by going this way, we’re headed for California rather than Arizona.

Out of pure prejudice, California is better. Cali has Palm Springs; San Diego; Long Beach. California is all sun and bikinis. It’s so close to Tijuana too. I’ve never been to Mexico, but I still think Tijuana is better than any other Mexican town by the border.

Arizona’s got Tucson and Phoenix. Tucson is nothing to write home about. It’s been 3 years since we were there last on a tour, but from what I remember, it wasn’t all that special a town.

Generally, nothing has been lately. It’s like everything has lost its spark. Or maybe it’s just me.

It’s just: I don’t see things the way I used to. Everything has gotten dull and…pointless, almost. That’s why I just wanted to get away from it all.

And so did you.

“I’m so tired of this,” I said to myself, burying my face in my hands. Even though I barely even mumbled the words, you heard them before you even walked through the door.

“Same here.”

I looked up at you, hopeful. Without having noticed before, I suddenly saw in your eyes what I’d seen in my own so many times before when I looked in the mirror. Suddenly, you were my mirror.

“Let’s just run away.”

I jolt forward when the car suddenly sets out. Smoke starts pouring out of every crack in the hood. I slowly decelerate, but the car helps me break faster than I would have wanted. It comes to sudden stops and then continues at the same speed as before.

I decide I’ve had enough of this jolting back and forth and I put my foot on the break. The car comes to one, last, sudden stop, and that’s it.

“Fuck,” I yell and pound my palms against the steering wheel, as if to discipline the pile of junk on four tires.

You whine beside me, cradling your right arm with your left.

“You okay?” I ask quickly, putting my hand on your knee in some sort of lame attempt of comforting you.

“Yeah,” you grunt, rubbing your arm before you pull up your sleeve and try to get a look at your hurt elbow. I want to laugh at your naïve attempt, but instead I just lean over, grab your elbow and kiss it softly.

When I look into your eyes, they’re shining. The sun is behind you, so it’s got nothing to do with that. It’s as if you want to smile too, just like I want to, but you can’t. But still, I can faintly see it in your eyes.

I swallow a lump in my throat and straighten up.

I turn the key in a desperate attempt to get the car going again, but by the amount of smoke that’s coming out from underneath the hood, I know it’s a lost battle. But then, without having touched a single button or moved the key again, the roof starts moving. I look over my shoulder to see it come closer, slowly wrapping itself over the car – over us.

I look over at you, and you look just as confused as I feel. I frown up at the sky, watching as it slowly disappears behind the tanned fabric of the roof. It clicks, indicating it’s locked in place.

“I guess this means we’re walking,” you say suddenly, a slight bit of boredom to detect in your voice. I look over at you again to see you stare out the wind shield, through the carburetor smoke it seems.

I look ahead too. The smoke is making the desert look even more endless and barren.

“Yeah,” I say; the same amount of boredom in my voice as there was in yours.

I hear you get out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you. I hear you walk away a bit, kicking the dust a few times on your way. I just stay seated in the car, letting the world slowly fade away; not missing any of it as it does.

It’s ridiculous, really. It’s annoyingly ridiculous. I’ve spent 11 years building this life, and now I just want a break from it all: I want a break from touring and music and family and home. When my life is finally safe and secure, I just want out.

And still, I want out with you, Frank. I don’t wanna leave everything. I want a friend to experience all of this new stuff with me.

I just want something new.

“How about we-“

“Shit!” I yell, jumping two feet out of my seat and almost slamming my head against the roof. I look shocked over at you. You’re leaning your arm on the door, poking your head in through the window.

“What?” you ask, looking utterly confused. You’re frowning deeply at me, shaking your head and rolling your eyes.
“I suggest we just leave this pile of shit and walk to-,“ you stop suddenly, pulling your head out of the car and looking at something.
“Boulder City,” you finish, poking your head back in through the window. I quickly nod, feeling a sense of disappointment growing in my gut. I wanted to just drive away, but I guess that plan is ruined now.

“Stupid piece of shit,” I mumble and get out of the car, slamming the door behind me. I stuff the keys in my pocket, before suddenly realizing how stupid that is. Why the fuck should I keep the keys to such a pile of broken scrap metal?

I pull the keys back out of my pocket and toss them in through the open window. They hit the passenger car door, then the passenger seat before they bounce onto the floor.

I look away, towards you. You’re already walking slowly away from me, glancing over your shoulder to see if I’m following. I’m not, yet. You keep walking though. You know I’ll pick up.

And so, I start walking too. I walk slightly faster than you, and within a minute or two, I’m right behind you. You barely even seem to register that I’m there. Your pace is still slow, your head is still hung low and your hands are still dangling by your sides.

I grab your right hand with my left and jog the two steps that part us.

Your hand tightens over mine, before we both let go.