Running Free

A 74 Dodge Monaco sedan cruises down the highway, the driver holding a cigarette, sad music plays through the aftermarket radio via Bluetooth, the exhaust rumbles, the 440 cubic inch engine dares somebody pull up beside it. He gripped the steering wheel with a grit on his face, thoughts racing faster than that car ever could. Nothing like taking this beast out for a drive; the power, the solid feel of each gear change and the clutch is perfect, all the work to get the large sedan to handle whatever the road could throw at it. His finest work, the struggle, the years of dedication, the pain.

He awoke that afternoon to the same apartment, it was what it was, not much, his friends wanted him to come over, so he did, with no plans.
“Uncle,” their son greets him, “I missed you,” with a hug.
His best friend of ten years or so, the time line is hard to pin down sometimes and his wife, he had introduced seven years ago, for a fact. They talked, laughed, played video games, watched things. It was good when he could get over there, the car was well known, backing in a space at their apartment, it was rare that the kid wasn’t in the window filled with excitement and ready to show off his latest Lego creation, or talk about some “new” cartoon, he and his friends saw at some point before the kids conception.
“Look at these new memes,” she would be ready to show.
“You want some coffee,” he would ask at some point.
The guy could spend hours there, often spending the night, two of his last friends from back then, the others either moved on, ended up not being friends to begin with, or were dead. He laughs when his friend messes with his wife, the little games they play, poking and annoying each other, scaring her, biting each other, joking around, sometimes they both would mess with her.
“If I was your wife, I’d poison your coffee,” she used to joke.
“And if I was your husband, I’d drink it,” he would retort.
He was there when their son was born, he was few people welcome over her parents house. He was there when her mom died.
“Here’s your daughter and her boyfriend,” a nurse announced when she was briefly in a nursing home because she was sick.
“Nope, that’s my son,” she replied as the nurse looked confused, seeing as he’s black.
A funny story she likes to recant. It was good times, sometimes they played spades, back alley, or magic the gathering. One time he actually won a game of spades and keeps the scorecard on his fridge- the one time he ever won. He would stay for dinner, but wouldn’t stay much longer.

Tonight he was meeting some other friends not too far away at a bar. People he met through another friend that isn’t around much since he didn’t need to stay with him anymore. Initially he was surprised that they still wanted him to hang out, a nice throuple with three kids. He’s only known them a few years, but they enjoy his company here and there. It was a relatively enjoyable time and she was there- not really directly his friend, but theirs, though she is kind and shares his faith. Have you ever wanted somebody you were sure you didn’t deserve, yet the idea was exciting that it could work, even for a little while? Or maybe you thought you weren’t good enough? He sought after her, not foolish enough to make the proposal, why chance the risk? He likes her, he likes them, they drink, smoke cigarettes, sing karaoke.
She is just a doll,” he sighed.
“She is, isn’t she,” his friend replied, sitting next to one of his wives.
“I really feel like I like her.”
“You should say something, man.”
“Ah dunno… I don’t think she likes me like that. I know better,” he looks at her from the window..
There isn’t but maybe another one or two he has feelings this strong for, but he knows everything about him is just wrong for being with somebody. They enjoy the rest of the night, there are other friends and once again he feels alone, even if he isn’t the only single person there. The only place he doesn’t feel alone, is with two other friends; his ex and her husband, although it may be because he gets laid. Sure she’s married- they still were, when they dated. But here was just a reminder that it was he seemingly was meant to be alone. He would talk to the others and they seemed to like him well enough. Another hour passes, nobody really intended to get real drunk, some left already, the rest were getting ready to leave as well. The throuple left with those who needed a ride, it was just him and her, she was captivating, he joked about her economy car and she laughed, there was a small heart to heart where she told him things he thought he shouldn’t be privileged to know. The type of conversation that doesn’t typically lead to anything, although he could assume she preferred their status of acquaintance where it is, anyway, although he felt her hug goodbye lasted a bit longer than usual, that could just attest to the topics at hand.

He didn’t drink enough to get anywhere near drunk as per his constitutional resilience. He gave her a wave at the light and he drove away. Drove across town with no intentions of going home anytime soon, no he wanted to drive. He drove downtown through the large buildings seeing the sights, seeing people still around in the clubs and bars, drove past the skate park almost tempted to see if anybody he knew was still lingering. He thought if he should finally just open up, despite people seemingly not understanding the years of mental strife, yet it’ll just be the same platitudes and diatribe they seem to hold on to, likening to some sort of positivity religion. Why can’t they grasp that the forces at work are more powerful and the ones they hold dearly are not allies of his, hope is not to be trusted, happiness is a façade of despair- only fleeting at best. It mattered not what he tried… how he thought… degree of effort… it made little difference. To fly so close to the sun, only to catch glimpses through the clouds.
Damn it all. This Dodge was his pride, the only thing he managed to complete- that the powers that be allowed to happen. On the expressway he opens it up for the first time, the only material item that really mattered, sanctuary in the desert of failures. Rage briefly consumes him, angry, loathing, pissed at reality, but it passed as he passed one fifty-five on the speedo. He lit a cigarette, a moment of solace. There was no accepting whatever fate kept in store, even if he was one of those seemingly existing just to spare pain from others by natural order- only way he surmises his existence. Long since grown tires of failed relationships, projects that lie dormant, dreams never close to being seen, only test drove, things just being arms length away, every time he reaches out, the hand pulls back all the same.
He wants to get away from it all. Opens Facebook on his phone, makes a public status that reads; I’m running away from the bullshit. Running free. Sent. Cranked his music as loud as it went, griped the steering wheel and floored it, he’s taking this car with him whether fate, or who, or what ever likes it or not, he closed his eyes, holding shut without a peek until he’s truly ran free and he can feel it in his soul. The police officer he passed as if he were sitting still, finally caught up to him, seeing nothing but a smile left.