'87 Chevy

“Russia has almost 6,000 nuclear warheads. It's only a matter of time until they use them.”

“I agree. Tensions are getting crazy high between us and CRINK. It's the Cold War all over again, man, but I don't think this one's gonna stay on ice for long.”

“What could we do against their combined hydrogen, Craig? Nuke em back? Destroy the entire world?” Rhett laughs blackly and glances at the girl next to him. She's looking at her hands. He thinks he shouldn't have brought her here. Sunlight doesn't belong in a grimy basement.

The first man speaks again. Smoke floats up from his cigar, eerily, like his very soul is separating itself from his body. No wonder he's depressed; he's the only 22 year old she's ever known to smoke those nasty things. “Nah. We have no choice but to surrender and become their slaves. You see, the bombs aren't weapons. Not really.” He leans forward and shakes his head. “They're power tools. America was nice while it lasted, boys, but we have a long held-off appointment with the devil that he intends on keeping.” His shaded eyes flicker over the glum faces of his companions before taking another drag of his cigar.

She pulls her feet up on the couch and lays her head in Rhett's lap. His fingers run through her dirty blonde hair, and her eyes drift closed. She's so tired of listening to their bleak predictions. They claim to be fellow believers; where's their faith? It all goes out the window when conspiracy theories come around. She'd rather do her part now—enjoy life now—let World War III come when it comes. They're letting a future event ruin the prime of their lives, while they live them in dusty old cellars, just waiting to say I told you so. Well, maybe they'll get their satisfaction. They'll have that small comfort while they work alongside their countrymen in concentration camps. Good for them. She'll take her own satisfaction in a shared smile today, maybe, or the gift of a listening ear tomorrow. To be remembered for living in the moment—that's what she wants.

“Paige.” He shakes her shoulder gently. She blinks up at him, grabs his wrist and looks at the time on his cheap Timex.

She groans. “Did y'all really talk all night?”

“And then some. C'mon. Let's go get breakfast.”

They take his old pickup to the Whataburger two blocks away. She runs a worn hairbrush through her thick hair and tosses it in the backseat. “Why is Craig so depressed? He acts like a character in a tropey TV show. You know, the one who got his heart broke in high school, so now he's not functional in society, and he has to treat the entire world like it's their fault? He's so… creepy.” She shudders.

He smiles and fingers something in the breast pocket of his plaid shirt. “No. He's just Craig. He's always been a doomsday prophet.”

She jumps out of the truck as soon as he opens the door. She pulls on his arm and teases him about wearing work boots on a weekend. She orders an iced coffee and a breakfast sandwich. The pudgy cashier raises her drawn-on eyebrows at Paige's cut-off jeans. “$8.30.”

She pulls a slim leather wallet out of her purse. Rhett takes it out of her hand just as quickly and stuffs it back into the oversized bag. “I've got it.” The cashier's face grows a little more dour. He pulls the strap of the bag up over her bare shoulder and looks a little sad that she'd try paying for her own.

“Oh.” She blinks up at him with big brown eyes, a vulnerable look flickering over her normally bright veneer. “Ok.” She smooths her hands over her baby blue tank top and looks outside at the passing traffic. Rhett orders his breakfast and they sit at the table, talking about normal, mundane little people-things like coworkers and funny little incidents at the grocery store. Her eyes keep wandering to the road.

She climbs up into his old square bodied Chevy and grabs his hand in both of hers. “Rhett.”

“Yes, Paige.” He looks into her eyes with a slight smile. He could look at her face forever. She's not conventionally beautiful, but there's something that makes you look twice. Maybe it's her eyes. They always have a restless glint in them. It stirs equal parts fascination and fear in him. She jumps around from this thing to that like a bee in a field of sunflowers. It would kill him if she flew away from him. Her cheeks carry a blush of hopeful innocence when she looks out on the world. She trusts too easily; she's gotten hurt too many times by too many people, yet she keeps living and loving. That's an admirable quality in a world full of jaded hypocrites.

“Take me away from this town. We can be gypsies.”

He hesitates, the line between his eyebrows deepening. “We can't just… walk away from everything, Pay.” He says it softly, trying not to hurt her feelings. He has obligations to help Craig put a new motor in his car today; he has work on Monday, bills to pay next Friday. Life is a far cry from the movies.

She squeezes his hands. “Why not? We can do more than walk— let's run away.” She smiles a painfully optimistic smile.

Paige hasn't quite grown up yet; that's what he thinks sometimes. Other times, the things she says or the depth in her eyes as she stares out of a window blows him away. “There's nothing left to see here. Same people, same old story since grade school. There's so much in the world, Rhett! So much beauty, and joy and love just waiting for us out there in the unknown. Don't you want to know what's out there?” She kicks her mismatched flip flops off and brings her tanned feet up into the seat, so she's sitting on her legs. “I do. I want to dance all night in Miami, like you see on TV. I want to watch shooting stars on a California beach. I want to hike my way up the tallest mountain in the country, and then climb the tallest tree there! And scream, just because I can! I want to sit in the sunshine on a bale of hay and drink milk fresh from a cow. I wanna live so hard that I forget all the horrible people in my life exist, and when I come back here and see them again, I want them to look at me, and look at everything I've done and how real and happy I am that they just… walk away. I want them to know that they'll never meet anyone like me.” Her chest rises and falls vehemently with the passion of her words; her pupils are wide as she imagines her dreams. He realizes that Paige is going to go, with or without him. It's not even her choice. She was just born with something different in her veins. He imagines this rusty old town without his ray of light.

He can survive without the familiar street signs and landmarks of his teenage years.

Old friends like Craig will be all right without him.

He can't breathe without Paige.

She turns to him slowly. “Maybe I'm crazy. Am I crazy, Rhett?” She bites her lip and looks at her hands.

More than anything in the world, he can't stand seeing her sad. It drives him to these extremes.

He cups her face with his free hand and kisses her. “If you're crazy, so am I.” He pulls the faded red truck into reverse with a grin.

Her breath hitches. He backs out of Whataburger, onto the road leading out of town, and hits the gas. Tears come to her eyes. She yanks up the console between them, disregarding the clutter of receipts and pencils there, and throws her arms around him. She says the only thing he's been waiting on since he met her a year ago, weeding his grandmother's garden just out of the kindness of her beautiful, giving heart. “I love you.”

He kisses her hair. His heart nearly beats out of his chest, as he looks out at the signs of his hometown fading away. He thinks about it for half a second, then grins again. It's right. It has to be right. “One more thing, Pay.”

“Anything.” She dries her eyes and looks up at him.

“I'm going to marry you, if that's all right.” Her mouth falls open when he reaches into his breast pocket and holds out a small black box. His fingers fumble awkwardly as he offers it to her. Why did he say it like that? It's too soon. That must be why she's not saying anything; she just sits there with her hands clapped over her mouth. He's known his heart for months, but she's always been slower. The pulse in his wrist goes into overdrive as he tries to take back what can't be unsaid; he attempts to backtrack. He laughs apologetically. “That's not exactly how I planned on doing it. You don't have to answer right—”

“Yes!! Yes, Rhett, I'll marry you!” Her freshly dried eyes brim over with tears again. Her shock wears off slowly; they look at each other and laugh, without even knowing why. She hides her face in her knees and squeezes his arm tightly, somewhere between sobbing and laughing.

He yells in open exuberance out of the open handcrank window. “We're getting married!!”

“We're getting married,” she repeats in a whisper.

He takes her hand and slips the simple band on her finger. They swerve and she grabs the wheel, keeping them on the road.

Happy tears slip down her face. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”