Page 198 of Paradox
I'm certain I love him one-hundred percent more each day than the day before.
It's overwhelming, but good. Like being surrounded by dense humidity. I feel it from my head to my toes, and in everything I do. The only problem is that, right now, the pair of us are also radiating so much nervous energy that the truck cab is a pressure cooker of anxiety, and I can't feel the love anymore.
I know it's there.
I know he's beside me.
I know he's doing this all for me, but— "I need to get out."
"We're almost there."
My feet slam back down on the truck floor. "Stop the truck, Eden!"
He reaches for me but I swat him away then spin to grab the door handle.
"The parking lot is a few hundred yards away."
I don't look at him, my eyes focusing on the handle. "Please."
Again he doesn't respond, and I know he won't stop until he reaches the small parking lot behind Daintree's main street. So I pop the handle.
Frigid wind rushes into the cab, slamming against the side of my face.
It sounds like a jet engine in my ear.
I feel Eden grab ahold of my sweatshirt, but I refuse to close the door.
The truck slows, and when it's close enough to the curb, I push the door further and pull myself free of Eden's grip as I jump out—slamming the door closed behind me.
I catch his eyes in the rearview mirror as he drives away.
He knows trying to get me back in is a pointless endeavour. If he expects me to be at that cafe, he needs to give me this time on my own.
A baby cries behind me and the reality of yet another of my rash decisions hits me at full force. It's like those scenes in movies where the camera pans out really fast, showing just how big the area around the character is and how truly small they are in comparison. There's nothing to protect me here. I don't even have my phone.
My head whips around and I look down the road we just came along as though running back out of town is an option.
Turning back around, I stare forward—my eyes instantly dropping to the sidewalk when I see how many people are on this side of the street.
It makes no sense. It's barely past nine in the morning on a freezing Tuesday in February. Why the hell aren't these people at home?
I quickly look to the other side. It seems empty in comparison.
I step off the curb and onto the road.
I wait for a VW Bug to pass, then I'm jogging across.
I wrap my arms around myself, and walk.
A few years ago I came here with my mother to pick up a gift for one of her friends. A handbag from a local leatherwork designer. I remember the shop smelt amazing. We walked up and down the entire main street, my mother commenting on the window display of every shop, but refusing to enter any of them until reaching the cafe where I'll meet Eden. We had a nice lunch, and talked a lot about not much at all. It was easy. It was nice. But things were always nice when the conversation was light.
I hope Eden waits outside for me.
Or better yet, I hope he'll wait at the truck because I don't think I can walk towards the cafe on my own.
I actually can't do any of this on my own.
Why did I get out of the truck?
