All of this was over him. He imagined himself spinning in the fans at the crest of the church ceiling and he knew exactly where he should be. The words that used to comfort him had fallen on deaf ears, and he would not be willingly sedated. He walked out of church at 10:51, in the middle of the Eucharist. No one noticed. No one turned their face. The gothic wooden door swung open into the morning and a small breeze of freedom blew past him into the foyer and died there. The clouds were a summer cliché and perfect for what he had in mind which was absolutely nothing. He thought briefly of where he would go. It should look vacant and wanting, huge fields of long grass. He wanted out.
The first step on to the blacktop made Steven wince, but not with hesitancy. There was no more time for staying. He saw his car, bright blue in the dark grey, and got in. “I think north” he thought, and refused himself any more than that. He heard the engine turn and pulled onto Route 32, North.
His thoughts drifted past like the street signs, every once and a while drawing his attention to them, bright yellow in his memory: His mother’s eyes tearing up; His bed at home unmade and comfy; his college graduation, perfectly illustrated, because it was so recent, with the pained expression of his father’s guilt held in relief against black square hats. It had been seven months since he had finished what had been one of the best chapters of his life. And, since that time, there had been close to nothing to compare it with. He was an engineer now. He made more money than either of his parents had ever seen. His sky blue BMW racing down the highway was a bigger luxury than anything his family had ever dared consider. He smiled slightly at this, remembering his mother’s cautious words, “Save it Steven, you can always buy it later.” That “later” was a myth. He had realized that early on, way before his teen years. He had seen that “later” evaporate time and again in to the heat of suburban poverty. “They weren’t poor,” he said out loud, “they just weren’t rich.” He smiled again at his relative success. He still lived in a semi-ok apartment with a couple college friends, but this car was a symbol of what was to come. Not rock-star status, but a hell of a lot better than he had had it before, a hell of a lot better.
The city was thinning out now. Every once and a while trees erupted, green out of the gray and silver. He had driven here before, and that was opposed to his goal. These drives had grown longer the past few weeks. Last Sunday, he had driven for half a day before turning back. Today, who knows, he could drive all day or all week. It didn’t matter. He was right at the inception of a two week vacation. He had thought about taking someone with him, maybe Laura if she would come, but had held back right before asking her. This felt like it should be his two weeks and he was surprisingly reluctant to share, even with someone as good looking as Laura. She was a new acquirement as well, and she fit very nicely into the liquid cooled passenger seat of his new car. Pretty and witty, and she really seemed to like him, which was something that his parents couldn’t boast of either.
He drove until the city quit fighting and gave over to rolling hills and quaint manicured woodlands.
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