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This is what even I would call the boondocks. It is a terrible piece of land, sparsely populated by farmhouses with dense overgrowth, visible under the new fallen snow. If it wasn’t for this snow, the houses, trees, ground, would all be a collage of brown. Once, these houses oversaw vast farms. The pride of New York long forgotten. Today, the farming has stopped, and most commute to Albany for work in boxes within boxes. It is sad. The freedom of farming must have been amazing. It’s awfully fun to think about throwing it all away, and starting over simple. But, these thoughts pervade my head and as the Mercedes-Benz barrels over the county route, I remember that my driver is a tool. I buckle up, and hold onto the oh-shit handles, ever the ready. The looks on my fellow passenger’s faces reveal quite a similar feeling.

The driver, Bill, drank a 40 ounce beer within the last hour, his license is suspended, and is doing 60ish on a winding back road posted as 45. The road is wet. Truthfully, I’m scared shitless. I make a cross over my chest, neither knowing the significance or proper form. I figure every little bit helps.

To Bill’s right, is Alec. Alec is one of my best friends. In fact I wouldn’t have even have gone on this crazy night ride if he hadn’t have been here with me. I’ve known him for many years, and seems to be a man of good judgment and sense, even through the few of his character flaws.

I’m sitting behind Alec, and next to me, is Stacy. She’s a friend. A girl. A friend-girl. I once heard there was no such thing. What liars they are. She’s well-to-do, but overly nosy and stereotypically female. I’d kill for her if it came down to it, but she can’t know that. She’ll wrap you around her finger, a spider making its kill, if she can. No, its not pretty.

And then there is Remand. The youngest, still in high school. I think. Alec’s younger sister and one of the most annoying humans ever. She is dumb and talks with a high-pitched voice. Despite these annoying flaws, she is very sincere, and stupidity can be an underrated quality sometimes.

They’re all screaming at Bill, as he drives like maniac. Passing cars that needn’t be passed, and not paying attention to the road. I think Bill has a death wish. It's true the fastest way to learn about yourself is through self-destruction, yet I’m in no mood to become part of Bill’s experiment. He relaxes the accelerator and the alcohol in me soothes me in no time.

I’m looking across the rolling, forgotten hills of state pasture. The fresh snow is even all around, and the nearly full moon illuminates most. With the white wet snow, the moon's glow is carried through the hills, and you can see farther than you could on a clear summer day. The stars litter the backdrop sky, falling below the horizon line, and causing a very definite sense of my world. There isn’t an end, but it feels like I could reach out and touch night sky like a wall.

Bill again speeds up his deathtrap. It’s a solid car, and feels sturdier than most plastics you get from Asia. We remind Bill of his status, and he reduces speed. He shuffles through the music, and settles upon rap. I understand why I usually don’t care for Bill. It is nothing personal at all, but we are just two brands of people. He's materialistic and undeservingly arrogant. He tells us he had sex with a girl in a hot tub last night. I doubt his story, and wish I could glimpse Alec’s eyes as he tells the story with uncharismatic determination. I must believe him. I really have no choice. So I’ll just shut up. Say nothing. It works best for me. Tonight, I just want to blend in.

I consider my death, in this flying gold German box. It would be terrible. I wonder who would show up to my funeral. My thoughts are interrupted.

“So what’d you think of tonight?” Stacy turns and says. No on can hear us from the music and wind of a cracked window.

I admit that I didn’t have fun. I never wanted to go at first anyway.

“I didn’t want to either. But Remand asked me to. She had a tough day”

I say that it wasn’t any sort of party. Just people hanging out. Like we do back home. I tell her I’m never going anywhere with Bill again. I really don’t want to.

The Mercedes rears ahead. Passing a semi, but with legitimate cause. It still puts people on edge, and excites a brief uproar of four letter words towards the driver.

I have brief conversations in the car. Golf with Alec. Politics and a decent conversation on desires with Stacy. I don’t bother to talk with Remand. We’re separated by Stacy, and she seems preoccupied with her cellular phone. Several years ago, a friend and I had a conversation about Remand. We both concluded that we’d probably have sex with her given the opportunity, but that she’s a huge *****, and wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Even though I’m in a distressing situation, the alcohol and weed help keep me sane and docile. I’d probably be attacking Bill violently otherwise.

Stacy turns. “Bill is such a douche”.

We have a private laugh, and when asked about what we found funny, we reply something that happened earlier.

It is easily 1 or 2 am. I have no idea. My own phone died hours ago. I refuse to charge it until it dies. I find my phone constraining. It rules my life. A quarter-pound box of plastic that rules my life and it is very pathetic. When I’m not of it, I feel free. I have control again. Shunning technology permanently would be useless. It does its job. I just hate it for it.

I make mental note preparing for the day tomorrow.

“I’m so ready to be home and in bed” Stacy slurs. She’s been drinking. Her and Remand are drunk. I feel good. Alec isn’t drunk at all. Bill, is probably fine. But Bill is a lightweight in all accounts.

I feel old. My body doesn’t want to party. It wants to rest. I push it and abuse it, and it treats me well. The story of my life is the things I don’t think about, they come well for me, and the things I want, never end right. It’s a decent trade-off I suppose.

Tomorrow, I’m hanging out with a friend. A girl. A friend-girl. Different from Stacy. A girl I desire. She has no idea.

The car, hits something large in the road. I guess a log. Alec guesses a pothole. Bill says nothing. Three large lights appear directly in front of the car. Several hundred yards away. It catches everyone’s attention. Stacy gives me a paranoid look. I’ve learned to deal with the paranoia caused by marijuana’s habitual use. You smoke more of it. I’m the first one to relax as I realize it is a train, bound by tracks, that eventually counter swerve with the road. It passes, hissing and breaking. Making a vulgar racket. This is not my destiny.

Tomorrow I’m spending my evening with a friend-girl. No such thing? Why are they all wrong now? Forever I’ve been duped by what “they say”. **** they.

I’m distracted by the fantasy of Bill’s awful driving getting us pulled over. The officer asking for Bill’s information. Learning Bill’s license status. Realizing he is under a legal age and has been drinking. Later, raping the rest of us of any chance of returning home without at least a hassle and a story to tell the following Monday. Red and blues, red and blues. Cops are deceptive. Fake cars, low profile lights. They’re doing their job. I hate them for it.

I’ve known this girl for half my life and then some. She has no idea these feelings have surfaced. We dated a couple times before when we were young. Too young to have real relationships and real feelings. Too young to care. We are intimate.

I get a glimpse of the river, flowing north and south. It is icy. A chilly February has left if filled with blocks of ice. Too small to damage boats, but enough to make the river look like shattered glass. Glass, fallen to the ground, broken into thousands of pieces, yet well contained by two earthy banks. These ice blocks, carry the moon’s reflection amongst their bodies, and gives a subtle view of a river, dead with cold.

Tomorrow, I’m going to pick her up in my new car. Dressed to perfection. Smelling godly. The perfect amount of suave and handsome. I’m not nearly perfect. But I can act, and it will show.

“Do you have your iPod on you?” Alec asks. He wants to borrow it because his own had died. When an iPod dies it is truly dramatic. I tell him no. I don’t have it on me. It is in my car.

Where are we going again? I think we’re going on a date to a hockey game. Or maybe it was a basketball game. I can’t remember. It could be both.

The moon dips behind some dense clouds passing through, completely out of place. The world is cast into utter darkness.

Of course she doesn’t know it is a date. It is a guy and a girl being friends. But by every means it is equivalent to a date. I’ll even pay, before she gets the chance.

The radio in the car switches stations. It heads to a classic radio station.

“This is Lying Eyes. A true classic folks. The Eagles, only on Jrock, 106.”

The solemn song puts a damper on the mood in the car. I’m immediately grateful Alec has seized control of all music decisions. He won’t make my choice, but it will be closer to my taste.

It might be the booze. It might be the high. I suddenly feel so mortal sitting in the back of Bill’s car. Being mortal is a good thing, I tell myself. If people have 1000 years to accomplish something, do you think they would accomplish anything greater than in 70 years?

I progress back to my thoughts. I’m sparked with courage. I know this is the booze. I’m a tough drunk I think. I chuckle. Tomorrow evening, I’ll tell her I love her. Tell her she drives me crazy. That our chemistry is undeniable.

I catch glimpse of a deer warning sign along the side of the road. It feels trivial compared to the action sequence driving I already get with Bill at the wheel. Deer make an awful mess here in New York. No matter the time of year. It isn’t unheard of to be driving along, and never see a thing. That is until you wake up with a deer carcass half through your windshield and your airbag deployed into your face. Your front fender wrapped around a pole. I’m in the backseat though.

I don’t love her. Really I don’t. But we have undeniable chemistry. You can’t ignore it. Everyone around us feels it. But, we never talk about it. There is no point as it feels. It will change. One day. It will have to. You can’t ignore it. I won’t tell her that I love her. That I even think of her that way. That on winter nights I want to be snowed in with her. That here in this car, I want her in the backseat as she begins to sleep off her drunk on my rhythmic chest. But I don’t. I don’t dream of any of these things. And there is not a point to playing the creepy-stalker card if I’m not actually a creepy-stalker. I’ll save that one for when it really matters. The alcohol gives me courage, the weed deprives me of it. The combination makes me empty.

I feel a vibration under my ass. Stacy dropped her phone down into the seats and somehow it wedged its way right under my pants and gave my ass quite the tickle. Stacy’s drunkness corrupts her attempts at retrieving her phone. I do the work for her so she doesn’t reach down around my ass.

I remember that my girl’s birthday is next weekend. We had already made plans. We were going to go out and hit some bars. Have some fun. I know how she takes alcohol. It loosens her. Makes her talk. We’ll sit somewhere and start talking. I’ll look over my shoulder, he body will be slightly turned towards me. Her breasts and butt protruding roundly from whatever she’s wearing, and will distract me from whatever thoughts. I won’t stare and I’m not a pervert, but thoughts will creep into my mind about making her mine. Making love like humans. Taking her how I want her and showing her she’s not alone. My eyes will stay focused on her own pair. Glancing occasionally across the room or at her mouth. Giving her a sincere look. The kind that will not just appreciate her beauty, but appreciate her mind.

“Sometimes…I find it struggling for us to remain just friends”

It will say everything, and nothing. Meeting precisely our situation and denying what might be. It says I notice. I care. I can do nothing about it. That is exactly how I feel.

The car slows to the speed limit. I’m forever grateful for whatever chance it was that gave me this moment to catch my breath.I crack my knuckles that are blue from my death-ready grip. We’re still gliding along with the river. The Mercedes’ fine tuned suspension keeps the passengers feeling balanced at all time. Not once has the car been bounced around from the hills and sweeping curves backwoods driving requires. Only when we hit that muffler a couple miles back did I feel anything. I knew what it was. I didn’t say anything.

Valentine’s Day just passed a week ago. Maybe more. I resent myself for not having asked her out for it. Just dinner I would have asked her for. Nothing absurd. Nothing awkward. She wouldn’t believe it. Even a friend-girl wouldn’t have fallen for it. I’m a coward. Here in the backseat of a gold Mercedes nearly pissing myself with fear, realizing that if I fail with this girl, it is all my fault. I’m a coward. The definition of.

I remember New Years though. I went to Montreal with her, and a couple of mutual friends. Montreal is a city of sin for New York teenagers. Fairly drunk. Good times. And at midnight, as we watched the ball in Times Square fall, I reeled her in and tried to kiss her. She said she just didn’t want to kiss me. That it was nothing personal. I told her I didn’t want to overstep our boundaries as friends. I’m not only a coward, but a liar too.

The cowardly liar zips his jacket  up the rest of the way and pulls his hood up over his head. I don’t want to be seen. Amongst friends I’m even antisocial. I put my head down. If these are my last moments, I don’t want to see it coming. The pressure the world puts on you are really the last things you feel. I need to feel love I’m told. I must accomplish something they say. I’m measured by my materials. My possessions. I don’t need a thing. Not where I’m headed. I slouch down into the leather seats and close my eyes, my head resting against the glass window and I can feel the bleak moonlight on my eyelids. The world is fading fast.

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Keyword: wet road moment alcohol car love

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