Page 38 of The Time It Takes
When I look up through the windshield into the boutique, they’re met with a very furious looking woman. She starts to charge toward me, and so naturally I panic and lock the doors. I feel silly because she has a key and could just unlock it again. I put the key in the ignition and turn it over. The car purrs to life and I grin ear to ear.
She unlocks the doors, but I’m faster, and lock it again.
I spot the shark tooth necklace on the rear-view mirror that belonged to our father. It was Ben’s good luck charm during races. I take it off and put it over my head and pull my hair out from it.
The woman makes it to the car and starts banging her palm on the window.
Click, click. Click, click. Click, click.
“Excuse me!” she yells, her voice muffled through the glass. “Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
I can see her more clearly now. She looks familiar and my adrenaline pumps hard through the memory. We’ve met once before, and I can’t say I found her appealing then. It only makes this more enjoyable.
I cup a hand next to my ear to indicate that I can’t hear her. “I’m sorry, what?”
She fumbles through her purse for her phone. “I’m calling the cops.” She starts dialing, but I’m already turning the wheel and hitting the gas. The tires screech and a hyena-like laugh climbs out of my throat. The sound of the roaring engine is all I hear. I take a few turns and run about four lights until I’m taking an exit onto the interstate.
I reach behind me to see if there are any of Ben’s old CDs in the pocket behind the chair. I come up empty handed. I send up a prayer as I reach the eject button. A CD slides out and a sob nearly escapes my throat. For the first time, I’m crying happy tears. I let them run freely down my face as I push it back into the slot.
Motionless In White comes through the speakers and I turn it all the way up. I roll the windows down so I can feel the wind whip through my hair. I’m happy and sad and overwhelmed with euphoria. There’s something else there that I’ve been forgetting to recognize. I’m…pissed. So fucking pissed that it engulfs me.
What the hell is that woman doing in Ben’s car?
My skin is buzzing—or maybe it’s the vibration of the stereo system. I press my foot on the gas until it hits the floor. I swerve in and out of traffic. I have no clue what’s gotten into me, but I can’t stop laughing and smiling. I think I’ve finally gone mad. Ben was right. There’s no greater adrenaline rush than this. It’s electric. It’s hell on earth in the absolute best way. My skin is on fire, and I feel alive for the first time in ten years.
In this moment, I’m no longer poor little Willow. I’m an enraged girl who is sick of death, which is a bit ironic since I’m chasing it at the moment. I can’t go fast enough. The music can’t get loud enough. Everything in my body is racing. My heart is pounding, but I can hardly acknowledge it past all my other senses. I see why Ben listened to this stuff. It’s an entirely different experience than my usual classical piano playing.
I no longer feel like the gentle girl I used to be. I’m rough on every corner of my soul. No matter how many times I try to scrub myself clean, I’ll never be as shiny as I was before. I’ve changed. I haven’t been that girl since I was seventeen. I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’m sick and tired of being controlled by my past. I’m sick of feeling sorry. I’m sick of feeling guilty. I’m sick of feeling the pain of it all as if it just happened yesterday.
I’m sick of being sick.
And I’m done pretending to be in one piece when I’ve crashed so many times. Band-aids can’t fix everything anymore, but this? This feels like one hell of a start. The ache in my chest will only last as long as I let it.
With music in my ears and the wind in my hair, I’m living and I’m alive. It feels like it’s time to start acting like it.
Eventually, I make it back to town and pull into the same spot I was before. The blonde-haired woman is waiting for me. Dean and Phoebe stand next to her, but that’s not all. My eyes zero in to one person and one person only.
Oliver.
Despite everything I just told myself during my joyride, my heart goes straight to my stomach. I want to laugh, but nothing comes out. I sit there, frozen at the sight of him. His hair has nearly turned to the shade of honey as if time darkened it, and I see that he still prefers to wear it messy, though it’s just the top and it’s shorter. The sides are trimmed close to his scalp and somehow his features seem even more mesmerizing than before. His green eyes are aimed at the ground, but mine are on him. How can they not be? He still looks like Oliver standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, but something is different about him.
I reluctantly shut off the engine, knowing there’s no way of escaping this moment, and the silence of the music clicking off is more deafening than the music itself. I open the door to step out and the woman is standing in front of me in a second. She crosses her arms as if waiting for something. I shut the door, feeling awkward as I come down from my high.
I walk past her and tap the hood. “Thanks for letting me take it for a spin,” I say lightly, attempting to hide the tremble my throat wants to produce. “Nice ride.”
She gapes at me in disbelief. “Are you serious?” she asks. “I did not allow anything of the sort. You sped off in the damn thing!” She throws an unnecessary hand in the air.
I lean forward, pressing my palms into the hood and study her for a moment. She’s wearing blue scrubs, something I missed earlier. Oliver must have picked her up from her shift. I hear Dean’s boots scrap the sidewalk as he takes a step forward.
“Will, is that true?” he asks quietly, though I can tell he doesn’t really care.
I’m still staring at the woman when I ask, “Is this your car?”Why are you acting like you don’t know me?
“Willow,” Phoebe’s voice sounds like a warning or maybe it’s worry I’m hearing. Whatever it is, the woman seems to be catching on. She looks over at Oliver nervously, but he isn’t looking at anyone.
“It’s ours.” She gestures between herself and Oliver with her chin.
I poke out my bottom lip, cocking my head to the side as I nod. After a moment, she speaks up again and this time it’s directed toward Dean. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”
