All Night

All Night

As I reverse out of her driveway, I check my cell phone’s iridescent blue clock. 5:25 a.m. I grin to myself; I’m still not technically spending the night if I leave now. I love loopholes. She assures me that her parents are heavy sleepers, anyhow. Often she begs me to stay until they wake up, then sneak out her window. Quiet girls can be much crazier than they appear, I think, as I light a thin cigar.

Cigars are a tradition leftover from high school, when we were underage and the act of smoking one was a sort of rebellion. I turn on some classic blues-rock and try to forget about the friends I lost after high school. I try to focus on her, and the intensity of this new, wilder relationship. The memories of my out-of-state friends fade a bit.

I leave the orange-streetlight glow of the small farm town for the dark highway. The full moon sends its brilliant white rays of light filtering down through the cloud of smoke and water vapor hanging over the lumber mill’s smokestack, and I stare in sleep-deprived awe at the glittering mass, oblivious to the road, oblivious to the shadowy trees and fields whipping by.

My mind never left her house; I see from behind a thick, clouded window. The moon intensifies my detachment, and soon part of my brain is nagging at me, telling me to turn back, drive back to her house, and crawl back into her room through her window. I clench and unclench my hands on the wheel, trying to remind myself why I had to leave her. Consequences, responsibilities, reality.

I shake my head a bit and take a deep puff off the cigar. The freezing night air whistles in through the small slit at the top of my window, skittering across my face, tossing my hair around, keeping me awake. I inhale some of the cigar smoke and let it burn through my lungs, bringing tears to my eyes and invigorating me. I wonder if this is what it would be like to be a werewolf; racing through the night under the full moon, wide awake and wild.

There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t be doing this. Work tomorrow, well, today, in 4 hours. Her parents. The risk any young couple takes when they get this involved. Complete trust and openness with another individual, and the responsibility of having the same things invested in me by her.

I smile at the thought. Life would be empty and dull without risk. The smile turns to a grimace as I pass my turnoff. A gravel driveway materializes out of the dark; I pull in, triggering a booming chorus of deep barks from an unseen dog. Throwing it in reverse, I whip the car back into the road and around. The deep barks fade to muffled thumps before they are finally lost amid the whoosh of the night air, the undulating guitar riffs, and the steady hum of rubber on pavement. I take one last puff off of my cigar and then flick the stub out the window.

I idle slowly up my driveway and park the car, then ease the door shut. Whispering quiet ‘shut ups’ to my two dogs as they come bounding toward me, I tiptoe across the gravel, careful not to make it crunch underfoot. The sliding door takes a minute to open and close without a sound, and at last, I’m inside. But I can’t shake the intoxicating full moon feeling. Leaving her was so hard; returning would be so easy.

I slide quietly back through the door and sit on the edge of the porch, staring out over the wet treetops and into the city lights that illuminate the valley, miles away from me. As I flick my lighter and pull the flame into the end of another long cigar, I imagine her staring back at me from behind one of those far-off lights.