Page 48 of Ms. Lead

“My head is a little muddled at the moment, unfortunately. I’m not sure what I think about anything, to be honest. Especially us.” His words are stilted and far away, as if his foggy thoughts have clouded his voice too.

His answer does nothing to ease my mind, however. It was his typical ‘dance around the topic without discussing the topic’ deflection. That’s not going to work this weekend. It resolves nothing.

“If you had to guess, what do you think you would say about us?”

I’ve seen him use this tactic to get answers from people during his interviews, and he even told me that it’s what he does in situations like this.

He recognizes it, and I can see a genuine smile now out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help the smug smile of my own.

“Well done,” he beams with obvious admiration.

I take a slight bow but keep quiet, leaving room for him to answer.

He again takes a while to answer, and I worry at what verbal concoction he will come up with to not answer me directly again. If he tries, I may need to pull over, and I will not be responsible for my actions.

I grip the steering wheel a little tighter as I wait. My palms are sweating as my anxiety rises. I didn’t realize how important this was to me until just this second.

His eventual answer comes slowly. “If I had to guess, I would say that we…are still up in the air. The jury is still out, as it were.”

He seems pleased with his answer, but I’m not.

“Why?” I ask. I’m not going to let this go. It’s too important. And I want it resolved before we get to our destination. “What more does this jury need to hear? What witnesses? What evidence? What questions could this jury still have?”

He seems surprised but doesn’t hesitate to respond.

“What exactly are your expectations of me? Alright, Bianca. Logistically, how does this work since neither of us will budge on moving? And what about children? You still want them, I presume? Well, you know full well my opinion on that topic, as much as that horrifies you.”

“Horrifies me? What on earth do you mean by that?”

I did not expect him to rattle off items so readily and so vehemently. It’s as if he’s been listing these things in his head for a long time, waiting for the right moment to spring them on me.

“You know exactly what I mean. When that condom broke on the boat, you were so afraid of my reaction that you didn’t speak to me for hours afterward. I was vilified for a reaction I wasn’t having while I was trying to be there for you, to support you. I was pushed away to give you space, and all it did was give you time to turn me into a monster in your mind.” He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. “When you first woke up after I carried you upstairs, one of the first things you did was apologize to me. As if I was going to be irate with you for what happened. You were afraid of me, Bianca. I’ll never forget that look on your face, and I never want to be looked at that way again.”

That’s it. I flick my turn indicator and move to the far right lane of the highway, then pull off onto the shoulder.

“What are you—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

Throwing the car in park, I turn to face him. I reach over and gently pull off his sunglasses because I will not discuss this with a reflection of myself, and I want to see him while talking.

“I was never afraid of you, Oliver. Ever. Yes, I was afraid. You got that part right. But I was afraid of what you were thinking of me. I thought that you would think that I somehow made the condom break or was trying to trap you because I do want children someday. I don’t know.” I throw up my hands in exasperation, out of breath, and out of words.

“What would ever lead you to think I would blame you?” He grabs my hands, and it feels like the first time he’s touched me in days because it is. “I was very careful to specifically tell you that I didn’t blame you.”

“I didn’t say it made sense….”

He chuckles, lifts a hand to his lips, and kisses my knuckles, keeping eye contact with me. A jolt goes through me, and it feels like the tether between us that’s been silent for days is singing again.

It pulls me forward and must do the same for him since he leans in to meet me across the console, and his lips brush mine lightly, but then with more insistence.

The next thing I know, our hands are in each other’s hair, and everything between us is just getting in our way.

A light rapping on the driver’s side window startles us both, and we jump apart as if electrified. A highway patrol officer is standing outside the car with an amused smirk. He’s older, with gray hair in a severe buzz cut. He’s definitely seen some stuff in the line of duty.

Shit.

“Roll down your window,” he orders, motioning as if I don’t know what that would mean. I do so and paint on a quick smile.

“Hi. Officer. Sorry about that. We just stopped briefly to have a conversation. But we’re done now, so we can get on our way and finish our drive to the Grand Canyon, where we’re staying.”

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