Date Night in Ohio

The fervent movement of Trevor’s eyes gave the impression that he was seated on a witness stand.

Taillights.

Flurries.

Zero bars.

Taillights.

A mortaring, fluffy monsoon.

Zero bars.

Shit.

He had hoped that he could fill the momentary deafening silence with the noise of his thumb scrolling social media. No such luck. His 2006 Toyota Corolla was a worn, red speck in the multicolored vehicle mosh pit, creating a Jackson Pollack original on the snow-covered rural Ohio highway. Cell service could only be a mirage at this point.

He thought that whatever accident caused this traffic must have been, somewhat optimistically to him, reminiscent of a Michael Bay movie. He was by no means wishing ill will or injury on anyone, but if some heroic Tour de France-type was bumped by a Prius, he would probably have cartoon steam going from his ears to the steering wheel for throwing a wrench into his night.

“Ughhh…”

Katie’s sigh broke up his thought process. It was the sigh to end all sighs. The exhale alone from her thousand-yard stare fogged up the window enough for Tolstoy to at least write the “War” half on the glass. Trevor knew that he needed to put her at ease and spin the evening back in the right direction.

“So — not the best first date so far, huh?” A tentative Trevor asked, trying to break the ice that was inside the car.

Katie turned her head to offer a dry laugh and a smile.

“You could say that.”

Eye contact and teeth meant progress, so he was getting somewhere. But he was still a bunt away from home plate, staring at any kind of “base” from afar.

“Well, we aren’t going anywhere anytime soon,” he observed. “Tell me something about you that not many people know.”

“Diving right into the college icebreakers, are we?”

“We definitely don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She paused, turning back to stare out of the window. Trevor knew she was contemplating risking frostbite to get out of the car and walk the 15 miles home in a blizzard at the thought of talking to him. After all, seeing that horrible excuse for a romantic comedy that was his idiotic choice.

“What the hell,” she shrugged. “I’ll play along.”

Phew.

“The reason I’m back dating is because my ex-boyfriend is dead.”

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry.” His heart went to his stomach. This did not feel like a fun game anymore. “I had no idea.”

Her tone shifted with her jeans on the cheap fabric seat.

“It’s ok. He’s dead because of me.”

HONK! HONK HONK HONNNNNNNNK!

It was like a spike went through Trevor’s brain. The pristine gray Volvo behind him could tell that his jaw was on the floor when his foot should have been. Returning to reality, he inched forward the car length he was gifted, still trying to comprehend what he just heard in such a matter-of-fact timbre.

“Ha, yeah I get it. My ex is dead to me too.”

“No, I mean like, really dead. Like his mom probably crying in a church pew, body in the ground, or maybe in…God, I can’t think of what those things are called that hold people’s ashes…”

He knew it was an urn. Should he tell her it was an urn? Did the last guy die from thinking he knew everything? Maybe she’s hyper-competitive and stabbed him over a game of Trivial Pursuit. Who still plays Trivial Pursuit? Oh no, she’s looks to be getting frustrated now. Is this what happened last time? Maybe I should just…

“…an urn?”

“YES! Thank you! An urn. But yeah, he’s somewhere and he’s not breathing.”

“But—”

“Before you ask any questions, let me explain. First, he was abusive. Verbally, emotionally, physically, all of it. Called me every name in the book quite a few times, just for a cherry on top.”

Trevor clenched his teeth and eyes until they almost became one.

“Right? Not great. Second, he hates dogs. Who hates dogs? Terrible people, that’s who. Not reason enough, I know, but still like come on.”

Despite the freezing temperature, beads of sweat fell down Trevor’s brow, as all he could do was smile, nod and stare at her mahogany eyes. He could not believe her calm focus in discussing such a difficult topic — on a first date, no less.

“Third, and most importantly: I’m fucking with you.” She let out a laugh that would make a hyena blush. “I wish you could see your face, it’s priceless!”

“Ha. Yeah…that’s a good one! I can definitely say I’ve never heard that before on a first date.” Trevor nervously rubbed at his neck wondering about the level of truth coming from the passenger seat.

“Wait, did I actually have you convinced that I could be a murderer?” She paused and made a Shakespearean gesture toward her chest. “I don’t know if I should be flattered about my acting skills or offended.”

“Flattered, for sure.” Followed by his own sigh, and a grin. “You definitely had me on the ropes.”

Although his heart rate was still probably too high to be measured by his Fitbit, he was actually seeing her walls come down a little. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, being in traffic didn’t feel so bad anymore. Having a date confess to a murder might not even crack the top five of most uncomfortable moments in dating from the past year, so he couldn’t be too picky. He has yet to reinstall Tinder for good reason. It was honestly incredible to him that they just happened to meet in the grocery store two days ago and here they were now.

“What about you?” She asked, seemingly sincere. The semi-sadistic performance appeared to wash away the stench of the movie momentarily.

“Hmm. Well I have a tough act to follow now so it should probably be something good.”

The car continued to lurch forward one spot at a time, but Trevor could see that the commotion was not letting up. However, there appeared to be freedom in the right lane just beyond the flashing lights.

“Although you couldn’t tell it tonight, and it’s kind of nerdy, but I am a soap box derby champion and had a dream of being a stunt driver for movies as a kid.”

“Really? You’re right, that is definitely pretty nerdy.”

He looked down, burning a hole through the cheap mats. How was that the most unique thing he could come with? There are like six women in the world that could find that interesting.

“But it is pretty cool,” she gently indicated. “So long as it’s more The Fast and the Furious and less Matchbox cars.”

Ok, maybe seven.

He raised his head and, probably with too much excitement in seeing her smile, and said, “Definitely the Vin Diesel kind.”

“I don’t really get that vibe from you,” Katie said. Her thumb and index finger were together on her chin like she was trying to dissect an abstract piece in The Louvre. “I mean, you took me to see a movie that could have used hearts as subtitles.”

“I thought it was customary to take a first date to a movie with Hugh Grant where he’s very dreamy and very British?” He said incredulously.

Katie nervously tapped her fingers on her purse as though it featured its own guitar frets. “I mean some girls, sure. But not me.”

Why was she getting more tense? Was she feeling comfortable enough to be vulnerable? Was something off with her? Maybe, and he felt awful thinking that. She was definitely a very unique person, but Trevor found it endearing. We’re all a little off at times. After all, awkwardly fumbling through dinner and a movie are steps to find the weird that makes you smile when you aren’t sure why you should be in the first place.

“Ah, thank God!” Trevor exclaimed as he saw the line condense, ready for his night to continue with Katie.

As they finally made their way to the scene with only one car in front of them, there was no shrapnel on the ground or insurance cards being swapped. Just two police cruisers and two officers standing outside of them.

Well, that’s a relief. Trevor said on behalf of both his dinner plans and his conscience. It appeared that every car was being stopped and questioned at what could now be seen as a checkpoint of some kind.

Katie inhaled a breath, turned to Trevor, grabbing his face. She pulled him in and kissed him with impact. She pulled away, breathless yet frenetic. He was by no means mad about it, but his curiosity did pique.

“Would you maybe want to go out again sometime?” She asked.

“I—I mean yeah, absolutely. This has been pretty fun.” Trevor replied in a tone that he could only describe as shock.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath to center herself, and said, “Good. I only need you to do one thing for me.”

He craned his neck and smiled as they stopped. “What would that be?”

She reached into her purse, fired two precise, glass-shattering rounds, and Trevor could see her comedy career must have ended before it began.

“Drive.”