Aphrodite

We seemed to be the perfect couple, when we were alone, I had somehow convinced her to go out with me that late night in June, when the sky was clear and the stars were bright. I guess that should have been my first clue that I wasn’t as important to her as I had hoped, but my mind was always foggy when I was around her. Nothing mattered as much as the girl in front of me.

We drove to the edge of town, where a diner full of truckers and rig workers and filled with no one that we knew, were getting something to eat or using the booths as beds before a long night of work. Anabel walked in like she owned the place, ordered something for the both of us, and went to sit down, letting me trail behind her as if I was some sort of lost puppy.

The waitress brought us the food, a chocolate milkshake and a plate of fries, and I looked at the girl sitting in front of me. She wasn’t Anabel Dawson, the infamous girl that captured the longing stares of so many people. No, she was Anabel, the girl who was drowning in her oversized sweater and didn’t bother to brush her obviously wet hair before she threw it up in some kind of bun. She was the girl who was dipping her fries in her milkshake like she had just discovered the most delicious substance on Earth.

I smiled to myself, thinking that maybe, somehow, I was finally seeing the real Anabel, the one she kept hidden from everyone else. I finished off my food, paying for us both, and we hauled ourselves back to my beat up truck. I turned the key, holding it in the overturned position as engine revved and then roared to life.

“Let’s go for a drive,” the girl curled up in my passenger seat whispered, straightening herself out. Her eyes seemed to light up so I didn’t argue, turning right into the middle of nowhere instead of left to the familiar lights of the town we lived in. I drove into the endless darkness and Anabel just stared out the window, the only sound to be heard was the radio in the background.

I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going, or how long we had been driving, but a sudden “stop” came from beside me and I pulled over into a rest stop on the side of the highway.

“This looks like a place where people come to die,” I said as Anabel got up and flung her door open. She stepped out into the darkness and I did the same, leaving my car running so we had a little bit of light.

“You’ll be fine,” she said as she jumped onto the hood of the truck and laid against the windshield. I did the same, cautiously, not entirely sure if the old vehicle would hold the weight of both of us. I laid down beside her, tilted my head back, and looked at the sky.

The stars were shining down, creating a book of connect-the-dots puzzles that could never be solved. I turned over, looking down at the girl beside me, and a smile appeared on my face.

“Have you ever wondered what’s out there?” I asked, my voice quiet as I watched her reaction to my words. She shifted her body a little and tilted her head to the side.

“No, not really. I’m down here, they’re up there. What’s there to wonder?” she said, an almost bored tone in her voice. My smile faltered and I shifted myself so I was laying on my back once again, mulling over her words in my mind.

I’m not sure what I was expecting her to say, if I wanted some profound answer that let me see into the darkest depths of her soul, but I got shut out, just as everyone else did. I sat up and looked at her, wondering if I would ever be more than just someone to drive her around, not yet knowing that she didn’t know how to care. She looked at me, shrugged, and sat up.

“Let’s go,” she said, already getting herself down. I hopped off, not bothering to help her – she wouldn’t have let me anyways, and got in the truck. The ride home was silent, the lyrics of some unknown song falling just short of my ears. I dropped her off in front of her house and she opened the door, turning to me as if to say something and then shaking her head.

“Thanks,” she muttered and then she was gone, like a puff of smoke that faded into the air.