Getting Out

Chelsea reread the acceptance letter from U.C.L.A. In less than two months she would be there...all the way across the country, and far from the dredges of the New England winters. She could hardly wait! At this moment in time, however, Derek, her boyfriend was on his way to pick her up for their weekly "date night". A year and a half long ritual that was becoming beyond monotonous to Chelsea. Derek didn't seem to notice. She wasn't even sure if he knew what the word monotonous meant. His car screeched to a halt in front of her house. She was hoping she didn't seem too pre-occupied as she ran down and out the door, and into his car. His car reeked of pot, as usual. "So what do you want to do?" he asked, pulling away from the curb before her door was actually shut. Chelsea laughed shortly, and gestured with her hands.

"I mean, there are just so many options, Derek, " she said in an obnoxiously sarcastic tone. They drove down through Main Street, and met a total of three cars. She was restless and she was bored with this nowhere town.

"Yeah, I hear you, Chels, but this isn't exactly the big city, and you're not twenty-one. I mean we have limited options here, so lets make the most of it before you take off into the unknown next fall." Derek looked her directly in the eye and he was actually expressing some emotion for once. In the duration of their "courtship", Chelsea had never seen Derek express even a notion that he might be human outside of coitus... and even then she was pretty sure those were physical reactions, not deep, heart-felt ones. They gave each other a knowing look and in unison said "Beer again". Chelsea giggled silently to herself, thinking that in some weird way she would probably miss the security that Derek gave her. But onward and upward! Good-bye East Bumfuck, hello L.A.!

At the store, Derek parked away from the street light. They both had some paranoid delusion that it was safer that way. Chelsea laughed out loud at the utter ridiculousness of this ritual. "We are really smoking a lot of pot these days," she said out loud, to herself. She lit a roach and inhaled deeply, thinking about nothing in particular. A few cars drove by. She wondered where they going. Were they going home from work? From a secret rendezvous? Probably making a drop, or a pick up, more than likely. A real beater drove by and Chelsea imagined what the owner's house might look like. A shack that ran on a generator, off the grid, probably. Disability provided for the once full whiskey bottles that lay in display on a shelf. Probably that is how he counts his days. "A nowhere town, " she thought. "I'm glad I won't be here to sit and watch the cars drive by much longer."

The driver's side door flung open and Derek handed Chelsea a micro brew, and put the rest in the back seat under a blanket. "Fancy," she said, "Whats the occasion?" Usually they just drank domestic beer, whatever was cheap and on sale; quantity was the name of the game around those parts. Anything to get out of their own heads. Escape. She put out what was left of the roach.

"Well, you know, I just thought it would be nice to drink something different. Jimmy asked me to go get him some weed after work, so I had a little extra cash." Derek said matter- of- factly.

"How thoughtful," Chelsea responded dryly.

"You look pretty deep in thought," Derek said. Jeez, he was in rare form this evening. Maybe he wasn't stoned for once. "Penny for your thoughts."

"I was just thinking about how fucking dull this place is and how much I can't wait to get out!" She took a long sip of her stout. Derek started the car. Maybe she could drink it all off her mind. All of it. This place, this reality, and create a new reality, where East Bumfuck never existed. Derek cocked his head and gave her an odd look as he maneuvered the car out of the parking lot.

A song about leaving home came on the radio. "Do you think you'll be homesick?" Derek asked. What a strange night this was turning out to be. Derek's being attentive thus far was throwing her for a loop. She was having reservations about all of her plans while at the same time still making lists in her head about everything she would do when she got to L.A. Everything she wanted to see there, bands she longed to see live. Clothes she would wear. How she would change her accent immediately.

"Will I be homesick? Ha! Derek, its only ten o'clock and this town is dead! In Boston and New York people are just getting ready to go out. There isn't a store open after eleven here. There is NO exposure to anything except trees and wilderness and killing deer."

"Well do you think you'll miss me?" Derek smiled, a big toothy grin. This was definitely turning into a weird night. Neither of them had really broached the subject before now. "Its not like we're engaged, Chels. We don't even really have a great relationship, but we have fun, don't we?"

The ice blue interior of the car matched Derek's eyes perfectly. A reflection of his cold heart. That probably was not a coincidence. "I don't know, Derek." She looked out the window to avoid his stare. All the arguments that turned into screaming matches had started taking their toll. They even got into a physical fight at one point which left Chelsea with a black eye and Derek with a bruised kidney. They had been camping with another couple and they started drinking whiskey. No one could recall what the original issue was that sparked the fight, and the other couple had pulled them apart, slightly scathed. Yes, great memories. A ton of stability, as Derek had pointed out. She felt trapped in a world in which she did not belong. The big excitement on Monday mornings was learning what fucked-up (and most often praised) stunt so- and- so pulled over the weekend. And, man, if you weren't there, you REALLY should have been. You really should have seen it!

As she thought about these things, the car rolled on toward a notorious pick up and drop off spot in the parking lot of a now abandoned, former ice creamery, right off the side of the main drag. Sitting in that car with its cold interior, they were both silent. She finished her beer and chucked it out the window. "Ever heard of recycling?" Derek asked, joking, again with the toothy grin. She wondered sincerely if her brother might have slipped her some acid at dinner.

"We're all going to die someday," she retorted, with a big mocking smile, and grabbed another beer from the back seat. Silence again. She knew that all either of them really had was the moment, and thus far, they had chosen to live as such. Deep down she knew she would miss him, and she didn't want to admit it to herself. They did what they wanted and they weren't that bad. Derek lived in a house that he inherited, and had a stable job, a Harley, a boat. Chelsea's parents worked and she had know idea who they were anymore, and vise versa. They had no idea that Zeke, her younger Irish twin, had knocked up the Baptist preacher's daughter who was in eighth grade. Or that Zeke was a walking pharmacy. Not her problem, and she was going to get out of there and leave it all behind.

Out of extreme boredom and restlessness, Chelsea suggested they drive on. The trees rushed by, the smell of pine consumed her olfactory sense. She wondered what Sequoias smelled like. She stuck her head out the window just a little bit, they weren't going that fast. Derek suddenly stuck his right arm in front of her, like a mother would to her child as she hit the brake. She tilted and pulled her head in the window and first saw Derek's ashen face, and then the headlights coming right at them. At least Derek went all out on the beer, she thought. And then she thought of how little her existence mattered in the grand scheme of things. Her last thought was how glad she was not to have to die alone.



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