The world was waiting and his Cadillac revved and my cables didn't work so we were stuck. Two sopping wet strangers on the highway’s breakdown lane, one dolled in black shoes and a white button down, the other in a high-heeled and white dress disarray. What a day to wear whitewas the first line he yelled out of his window as he stopped for the girl hunched beneath her coupe’s hood.
My waterproof mascara caked together and his shoes were waterlogged. The rain came in sheets. We sat in my car as the engine ticked away before it quieted again. I was pissed. And I was late. But he was here and his name was Andrew. Andrew was quirky. Triple A was still an hour away and we would be damned if we didn’t try our hardest to not become completely soaked through. He had a crew cut, Navy-like, with hard eyes that surprisingly didn’t soften when he smiled. I don’t know why I felt safe, but I did. The rain hit the windshield and the world felt like it was within the car itself. But the world was outside and it was waiting and I was late.
But he had so many stories: he once owned a boat until his best friend crashed it and he had a sister he admired and he had a woman who stepped on his faith in women. I had stories: I once dated my best friend who had a scuba license and I have a baby sister who isn’t a baby any longer and I too had chances where I could have lost faith.
The rain was the only source of sound for the silences that weren’t completely silent; I’m sure he could hear the thoughts of what do I say racing through my head, across my eyes, ultimately garbled out in a frantic hope to look suave. And his eyes never smiled but he sure did. We spoke of how our world was waiting and how walking seems to be the only reliable transportation nowadays and we spoke of chrysalism. How chrysalism is “encasing,” he threw out, and I nodded hesitantly and reworded: “It’s like right now, being inside during a storm.” And he smiled so I knew he understood, and when his lips pulled at their sides, my eyes smiled too.
And we chatted about words and our interpretations. And we debated faith versus religion and passion versus enthusiasm. The world was waiting but waiting for us to be finished. And we spoke of wanting to experience the world versus understanding that the world is made to experience the people.
