average life

I sat behind the wheel of my small two-door Toyota.  My friend sat in the passenger seat and we looked out over the small college town where we both went to school.  She had grown up in the town and when I wrote to her over IM asking if she had time to talk, she suggested we drive up to a high-ish hill that she and her friends from high school had been before.  Recently, a large outdoor sports store had been built at the top and we pulled into a parking space that allowed us to look out on the twinkling lights below.

I had recently broken up with a girl that had left me in a state of exhaustion and confusion.  She had been one of those girls that was skilled in the art of manipulation and control and it wasn’t for several months later that I realized the extent of her power over me.  Had it not ended when it did our relationship probably would have progressed to the point of her monitoring all my communications and me identifying too closely with the Partnership Against Domestic Violence television ads.

Plus, she had a ferret.  She was truly evil.

But we had only been broken up for a few days as I sat with my friend in the little red coupe and she listened as I recounted every moment we had spent together in painful detailed.  She also patiently endured as I analyzed every word, gesture, and glance to discover what it revealed about me and my ex and wether this was the early sign of a lifetime of heartache and loneliness.  A less than superhuman person would have rolled their eyes at this dramatic fatalism and suggested we head over to the Taco Bell (the only place still open), but my friend simply listened to my pained spoutings.  Plus, had she suggested we go to the quasi-mexican fast-food joint, it probably would have sent me into a fit sighs since my ex and I had frequently gone to Taco Bell late at night and this connection would have stirred up such tortured melancholy worthy of lonelygirl15.  Of course, we wouldn’t have had much option because, after all, Taco Bell was the only place open that late.

With the engine off, the cold air outside caused our windows to fog over, obstructing our view of the town below.  My overly complete dissection of my previous relationship over, my friend talked about other things and other people.  Her voice was calming and even though my ego wanted to wallow in self-pity and teenagish despair, I enjoyed being distracted by ward gossip and was soon happily joining in by contributing what little information that I had.  The radio was quietly tuned to the local alternative rock station and when a song we liked came on, we were quiet and listened. If we really liked the song, sometimes we sang along.  The bitterness that I had packed around my heart was starting to melt away and the world was starting to seem tolerable again as we sat under the cold stars.

Suddenly two police cars raced up the road and in an instant I saw our lonely car must have looked at the top of a hill with foggy windows.  Oh, crap, I thought.  Without thinking, I put my car in reverse, but the first squad car turned on its lights and siren.

Crap, crap, crap.

The cop knocked on the window and I rolled it down.  He looked at both of our IDs and had the other officer call them in.  To the amusement of my friend, I looked nervously back at the police car.  What if we were arrested? What if it got around that we had been caught in a car with fogged up windows?  I thought about getting my mug shot taken and already felt the ink on my fingers from the fingerprinting that was sure to follow.  I had never had contact with the police more than a traffic stop or two.  My friend had grown up as a normal teenager and, while never having been involved in anything serious, had participated in her fair share of loiterings and pranks that, to her, had lessened the seriousness of cops rapping on the car window at one in the morning.  The cop returned our IDs and told us we couldn’t park there after hours.  I looked at the police officer who now seemed less a stone-cold enforcer of the law than a bored cop in his late twenties trying to fill the time.  My eyes were still wide, however, as the squad cars raced down the road to the base of the hill.  I put my car into reverse and we left.  I felt hungry, but the Taco Bell was probably already closed.