State of the Union

“You’re driving,” I said, my head tilted to the side, tears streaming down my cheeks. “You’re driving right through me.”

“I’m not driving anywhere. I’m right here.”

“No, you’re driving through me.”

He was on top of me, his nosing grazing over my wet eyelids.

I blinked fresh tears. “I’m Delaware. No one stops in Delaware.”

He shook his head. “But Delaware is great.”

“Then I’m Connecticut.”

“What’s wrong with Connecticut?”

My mouth tasted like liquor and salt. “No one stops in Connecticut. You don’t want to stop there. You’re going to keep driving through Connecticut because you want to get to New York.”

“But we’re in New York together.”

“No, you’re in a car, and you’re going to New York, but I’m Connecticut.”

He wiped away some of my tears. “You’re in the car with me.”

I can’t be in the car with you,” I sobbed. “You can’t put a whole fucking state in a fucking car.”

“Why not?” he smiled.

“I won’t fit. I’ll never fit in your car.”

“But you have the littlest waist.” His hands gripped mine against the pillow. I struggled to get up but he kept me down on the bed, on top of me, his eyes digging into mine. Blue eyes. Swimming pool eyes. “Look: I’m not going anywhere,” he told me. “I promise.”

“You’re going to New York,” I whispered. I relaxed my wrists.

He kissed my lips. “I’m in New York. With you. And I’m not going anywhere.”


One response to “State of the Union

  1. this broke my heart. in a good way.

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