Post Chiefs Blizzard

Suppose they were married. Suppose that neither one of them wanted to be married. Suppose that both were too stubborn to talk about this dilema and so it was swept under the rug along with other items they did not want to talk about like how whenever he sleeps, he takes all the blankets and then snores loud enough to blow his hair past the crown of his head. Suppose that whenever she speaks, her pauses exceed minutes of conversation but then gets upset when she is interrupted. Suppose that he had slept with her sister and the only ones who knew of this event was him, her sister, and the family portraits that stared at them in the hallway where it happened. Suppose that she has the hots for her boss who is his ex-best friends ex-girlfriend.

Now, suppose that they attempt to make another get away, down the interstate. To the outskirts of Kansas City. After a Chiefs game. Through a blizzard. Yikes.

The windshield is fogged. The windows are fogged. In their younger years, maybe the car would be stopped in an abandoned parking lot, and they would not be yelling what they are currently yelling in bumper to bumper traffic.

"Issac, I literally cannot see. I don't feel safe with you driving like this," the wife, Alice, says.

"Well, what do you want me to do, Alice? We're already completely stopped in traffic," I don't know why they are saying names when there are only two of them in the car.

"Whatever, Issac," she throws her hands up in the air as if she has had enough. Disclaimer: she has. Cars around them honk as if something can be done about the quickly gathering snow. Former tailgaters at the game regret tailgating on the highway as rear ends are smacked into headlights. Insurance agents clap in glee in some distant, mirrors for windows building.

"There," Issac huffs, reaching for a soft microfiber towel to try to make the road visible. But, it won't work. There is too much coldness. There is too much snow. Too much ice. The soft red glow of tail lights balances ahead of them much like Gatsby and his green light.

But instead of wanting Daisy, they want out. They want off. They want the warm embrace of Taco bell.

As it stands, they will have to sleep in their car. They will have to share heat. They will have to rid themselves of the cold bitterness that sits on their chest at all times.

Alice wraps her coat around her. Shivers.

It is silent for seconds, minutes. Heartbeats glow through their wrists. Tiny whispers of what the other doesn't know.

Finally, it breaks. Silence shatters as the car horns come back to life. As bumpers slide into one another. The stress. The closeness leaks into their bones. And then...

"I'm cheating on you, Alice," her eyes are wet. She knew. He forgot about the nanny cam meant to capture cute, rare moments of their two dogs.

"With who?" He only knows she asks because her breath stops against the window, forms a halo of dampness.

"Jillian," her sister. Her own flesh and blood. Who is she most angry with? She won't ever know.

"I'm in love with Lucy," she turns to face him. An eye for an eye. He knows Lucy is her modestly attractive boss. He knew this was coming. All of his friends told him so. And yet.

His shoulders drop. No longer rigid from the weight of secrets. They spill across the floor. Under the mats weighed down by melted snow.

"Your sleeping habits annoy me," he says.

"Your eating annoys me," she says.

"You love the dogs more than me," he says.

"You don't wash the dishes or cook, ever," she says.

"You touch my keyboard when your hands are sticky and so my keys are sticky," he says.

"You use all my conditioner and act like it wasn't you, but your hair smells like coconut, Issac. Coconut!" Their voices drown out the lo-fi music that had been filling the void before. They are now yelling. A match of who is worse.

Cars begin to move around them. A river, ebbing and flowing. The sun retires. The darkness settles in. The air is heavy with words and confessions.

And just as quickly as it began. It stops.

Their chests are heaving up and down with the intensity of the situation. Sweat glistens on their foreheads.

"I still love you," he says to no one in particular. He doesn't miss the small smile that escapes from her lips.

"And I still love you, but is that enough?"

Issac shifts the car in drive.