Chasing Cars

One of the best things about my job was that even though I was late a lot and sometimes called in sick just because I wanted to get nasty with my boyfriend, I never got fired. I tried to be a good employee, and I was pretty sure my boss was grateful for the work I did. I was really good at filing, and I was better at keeping the place clean and tidy than my friend Albert, who worked with me. But, of course, I was still a little worried about job security just because I knew I'd probably not work at a comic book store for the rest of my life. But it suited me just fine for the moment, and I had to be grateful that the owner, Larry, hadn't fired me yet.

But the thing I loved the most about my job was that I got to spend my day with my nerdy-ass friends. Doug, Todd, and Albert. Todd and Doug worked in different places, but Albert worked with me. So even when they weren't around, it basically just felt like we were hanging out all the time. And then, nine times out of ten, they'd be in the shop once their shifts were over anyway.

When I got to work, I found the three of them, plus Doug's girlfriend and one straggler in the back of the shop. And it was—a mess. There was a pizza box with nothing but crust and plastic cups. Something had been spilled on the floor that never got cleaned up. The scent of marijuana was heavy in the air. It was after ten in the morning, so I was guessing this was all leftover from whatever the hell they'd done the night before.

"What the fuck, you guys?" I said when I walked in. I shoved my messenger bag into my locker and turned around with my hands on my hips.

I liked to call myself the mother hen of the nerds. A big group of regulars came to play DnD and all that in the back all the time. And I won them over after buying coffee and doughnuts one night. So now they got excited whenever I showed up. Probably for the doughnuts. But they did occasionally feed my ego by telling me I was cute or asking me on dates. Except that stopped after Chris came by one time with his { "I'm a big jock who plays pro-ball and has tattoos. This is my girlfriend, and you can't compete, so don't try" look, and they all sort of backed off after that.

Today was a no doughnut kind of day, though. I wasn't in the mood to be nice. Plus, it was the morning, so it was just my three nerdy friends, Doug's girlfriend, and a straggler. I had a feeling they were looking at boobie magazines with the way they were trying to block me from view, and Sarah was sitting away from them, glaring in annoyance. They only looked up at me once before going back to whatever they were trying to hide. They all had their backs to me.

"Hello?" I asked. "Is anyone home? What the hell is going on with this mess?"

"Looks like Marley got some last night," Todd muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"She's late. She's only ever late when Chris is home and helps her sleep. Know what I mean?" He nudged the straggler kid in the ribs with his elbow. The kid was obviously interested in their boobie magazine. But he looked a little uncomfortable by the suggestion that I got laid.

"Whether or not I got any last night is none of your business. What is my business is that you guys wrecked this shop. I had it spotless at closing yesterday. So what the hell did you guys do? Why is there pizza? It's ten in the morning. The pizza place isn't even open yet." They all turned to look at me. Each set of eyebrows furrowed in silent confusion.

"What got into you?" Albert asked.

This made me take a step back. Was I being mean? Like more than usual? Maybe I just had PMS. I always got a little extra mean when I had PMS. I heard some girls had delicate periods that came on time, didn't come with cramps, and went away without anyone being the wiser. But I was not one of these women. For as long as I'd had periods, they'd come whenever they damn well pleased. Early, late, skipped completely. They were always heavy, always killer cramps. Everybody knew I was about to start at least a week before when I turned into a rage monster and got mad about stupid things like pizza at ten AM and the toilet seat being up.

"Sorry. Probably PMS," I explained.

"Obviously."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." They returned to the magazine that was out of sight.

"What are you guys looking at anyway?" They began to shuffle around to keep the magazine out of sight.

"Nothing. Nothing to see," they were saying. Taking turns lying to me about it. But I was smaller and lighter on my feet. I saw an opportunity in their shuffle and reached over a shoulder to snatch the magazine. Then I stood there—in genuine shock.

"This is a Lego magazine," I said. Sarah rolled her eyes, and the other guys shifted again, clearly embarrassed. Like they actually should have been caught with a boobie magazine.

"We read them for the articles," Doug explained. Then I burst out laughing.

"Here." I handed it back. "Try not to go blind." I patted his back and went to clean up the mess.

An hour later, and the place was back to being spotless. Albert had to go to the front room to take over opening. I was fulfilled by my ability to get it back into shape. But the truth was that there had been a lot of yelling and complaining on my part. Also, I was starving. I didn't have time to get breakfast in the morning, and I felt a little faint and wobbly.

"I'm going to get food, guys. What do you want?" I asked when I went to get my bag out of my locker.

"Get some doughnuts, will you?" Todd responded from his unmovable spot at one of the three tables.

"Doughnuts it is."

I headed out through the front and went down the street to the closest doughnut shop. When I walked in, a group of teenagers was obviously ditching school. They lingered near the window, whispering about their next adventure as they chowed down on doughnuts. I got in line and looked over the selection of fried goods I would stuff into my face the second I got my hands on them. I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

They were talking about baseball. Which was already unusual since kids didn't seem to care about baseball. But I must have been lucky to meet the only group who cared about the Giants. And then I just got a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Chris was such a normal person. A normal guy with a normal life. He had a basic apartment, dressed like a basic jock dude in his twenties, and had a nerdy girlfriend. He didn't even own a suit. He'd gotten his haircuts from the same barber for the past five years. So it was sometimes easy to forget that he was—someone.

It wasn't the first time we'd run into fans. We lived in the team's home city. So they were a little more recognizable than they'd be somewhere else. Everyone loved the Giants, even if they didn't memorize the players' names. Even if Chris was so low on the team's roster that we could go months without someone stopping him.

But there were times when I was reminded that Chris's job wasn't normal. That he was someone. When we'd go to our favorite local pizza place that happened to be a hotspot for the nearest police precinct. And every time we walked in the doors, there was inevitably a group of cops who just got off shift and knew him by name and sight. And they'd always talk and ask questions and invite us to sit with them. And Chris would go a little pale to the point where he'd sometimes just ask to order Dominos instead of going to the place he genuinely loved.

And sometimes we'd go out to dinner, and someone would cover our meals and ask to take pictures to put on their walls, and Chris would look a little panicked. And then there were the groupies. I didn't even know baseball had groupies. But they were especially bad at this in sports bars or after games. Sometimes we just wanted to go get drinks, and these amazing bombshell women would latch onto Chris and act like I was just his friend instead of his girlfriend. If they even acknowledged me at all.

I was proud of him. He was accomplishing his dreams, and he clearly loved the game even though fame wasn't exactly on the table for him. I always felt a strange mixture of pride and absolute terror. I suppose that's why the marriage conversation was so weird for us. I didn't want to be married to someone who toured throughout the entire season. And spent the rest of the year practicing. I didn't want to not take my family out to eat without worrying about someone taking pictures of them. I didn't want to worry about all these beautiful women who tried to lure Chris away from me. What was it like when I wasn't there?

What did I have to offer? I worked at a comic book store, and I wasn't even cute. Let alone hot. Not like THAT anyway. I definitely knew how to make Chris moan. But what happened when he got bored with that? What would I do if I found out he'd be cheating on me? It would break me. I'd fall apart. He was the only healthy relationship I'd ever had. The only person I thought I could ever love for the rest of my life.

I knew I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life. But marriage terrified me. And maybe it wasn't so much the marriage itself that scared me. I think I'd like to be Chris's wife. It was what was expected after that. Chris already made it clear that he wanted to have kids someday. He wanted a family. And if I was his wife—if I was the woman he wanted to spend his life with—then he obviously expected me to be the one to pop them out.

We'd always been pretty careful. I knew we were young, so it wasn't a conversation we needed to have just yet. We were perfectly fine just exploring each other and our relationship and careers before deciding on families. But one day, that might change. And if Chris and I got married—it would be a discussion we'd need to have. And I couldn't guarantee that he'd like my answer.

So why would he want to stay with me if I couldn't even promise him a family? Not when he could have a beautiful woman who'd be willing to give him as many babies as he wanted?

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe I was working myself up into a panic attack over nothing. The combination of my thoughts and my empty stomach was a little too much. I felt a little shaky. A little panicked. And I had no reason to be panicking. It was just some kids talking about baseball while ditching class. It wasn't like Chris proposed to me or anything.

But I was still feeling a little disoriented. I did get dizzy sometimes when I didn't eat. But it had never been a big deal. But now I was standing behind a slow man who was taking his sweet time trying to figure out which doughnuts he'd like in his dozen. I felt a little sweaty. A little off-kilter. If he didn't hurry up, I'd probably just throw myself over the counter and reach for the first doughnut I got my hands on.

I didn't get to that point. I took a step, trying to make my irritation clear. But it knocked me off balance a little too much. I couldn't breathe. The world began to spin. I didn't remember anything after that.