How Much I Love by Marie Force
Chapter 26
DEE
Since we get a late start, we drive six hours to Albuquerque the first day and arrive around nine p.m. And yes, we know Albuquerque is out of the way, but neither of us has ever been there, so we take a detour to the north to check it off the bucket list of all the places we want to go together that we made during the ride. We hold out for dinner at a local restaurant and stumble into a hole-in-the-wall place next door to our hotel that has some of the best food I’ve ever tasted outside of Giordino’s. We walk back to the hotel and fall into bed, exhausted from the long day.
In the morning, we take a couple of hours to explore Albuquerque. We wander around Old Town, and Wyatt buys me a gorgeous bowl from one of the galleries we visit and two small cacti for our new home. However, I take a pass on his suggestion to check out the Rattlesnake Museum.
“I can’t believe you don’t want to learn about rattlesnakes,” he says with a playful pout.
“I’d have nightmares for days if we went there, especially when we’re driving through rattlesnake country.”
“If you’re gonna be that way about it.”
“I’m gonna be that way about it.”
Since our goal today is to make it to Austin, Texas, we don’t linger for long in Old Town and hit the road shortly before ten for the eleven-hour drive to Austin.
Wyatt seems tired after doing all the driving yesterday, so I insist on taking the first shift.
We have the windows down and sing along to the eclectic selection of music he plays on the Bluetooth. Everything from Lil Wayne to CCR to Eminem to Tim McGraw to Selena. He’s impressed when I sing the Selena song to him in Spanish.
“Your musical taste is all over the place,” I tell him.
“I like songs, not genres. If a song speaks to me, I add it to my playlist. I don’t care who sings it or whether someone my age ought to like it. My grandfather is a huge Rat Pack fan. He had me listening to Sinatra and Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr. when I was a little kid. I knew all the words to their songs by the time I was eight.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“This is his favorite.” He plays “My Way” and sings along.
He’s got a great voice, which I learned about him that night in Miami when we stayed up all night listening to music. Since we left Phoenix, I’ve also learned he wants to stop at every cheesy tourist trap we pass on the road, which has me calling him Clark W. Griswold.
“If you don’t want to see the world’s largest mud hut, I’m not sure we can make this relationship work.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
We laugh and joke and tease and sing and eat the healthy trail mix he buys from the convenience store when I would’ve gone for chocolate and chips. I can already see his influence is going to be good for me.
Being on the road with him is the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life.
Much later that night, we’re driving through the ghost town that’s West Texas when we see a sign for a bus stop that cracks us up.
“Who in the hell is coming out to the middle of nowhere to catch the bus?” Wyatt asks.
He took over the driving when we rolled into Texas a few hours ago, and I’m manning the playlist.
I’ve added some of my favorite salsa and hip-hop songs to keep things interesting as we drive for miles without seeing another car.
“I could put the cruise control on ninety, put my feet up on the dash and take a nap, and we’d be totally fine,” he says.
“Except you’re not going to do that.”
“But I could. Have you ever been on a more desolate road in your life?”
“I don't think so.” I keep checking my cell phone to make sure we still have service out here. So far, so good, but I wouldn’t be surprised to lose service at some point.
We drive for what feels like forever before we see headlights coming from the other direction.
“Check it out!” Wyatt bounces in the driver’s seat. “Someone else survived the zombie apocalypse!”
“That’s such a relief. Maybe we can form a new community with the other survivors.”
As the vehicle approaches, the bright lights blind us after so much darkness.
“What the hell’s he doing?” Wyatt asks as the other car closes in on us.
The car seems to be partly in our lane, or it appears to be. “I can’t tell if my eyes are playing tricks on me or what.”
Wyatt slows down and inches closer to the far right side of the road as the other vehicle comes so close to us, it nearly sideswipes us. He has no choice but to wrench the wheel to the right, which sends us careening off the road into the brush.
I scream as I grab the handle above the passenger door window and hold on until the car comes to a jarring stop about ten feet from the road. Thankfully, the airbags don’t deploy.
Behind us, we hear a loud boom as the other vehicle crashes.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asks, his expression panicked.
“I think so. Are you?”
“Yeah, the seat belt didn’t feel good against my chest, but otherwise, I’m okay. I should check on the other driver.” He throws the SUV into reverse, drives up onto the road and heads back to where the other vehicle landed. “Try calling 911 and see if there’s service out here.”
As I make the call, I realize my hands are shaking. Thankfully, the call goes through, and I can report the accident, although I have no idea where we are.
“We’ll use GPS to locate you, ma’am,” the operator says. “Just keep the line open.”
“My boyfriend is a doctor. He’s going back to check on the other driver.”
Wyatt parks our car and turns on the hazard lights before getting out to jog over to the other vehicle. He returns a few minutes later. “Just grabbing the first aid kit. His head is bleeding. He says he fell asleep and is all apologies.”
When I realize how close we came to a devastating crash, I can’t stop shaking as I convey the new information to the 911 operator.
Help arrives fifteen minutes later in a helicopter that lands right on the road.
After I tell the operator the chopper has arrived, we end the call, and I get out of the car to watch. In the bright lights coming from the helicopter, I can see Wyatt talking to the paramedics. I wonder if the other driver knows he got lucky by nearly crashing into a car driven by a doctor.
With the paramedics on the job, Wyatt returns to our car, holding the first aid kit.
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Yeah, he might have a concussion and some broken ribs, but he’ll be fine.” He tosses the kit inside the car and then puts his arms around me. “That was scary.”
I cling to him as the adrenaline seems to leave my body all at once. “Sure was. You did a good job avoiding the accident.”
“All I could think about was what I’d ever do if something happened to you.”
“I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine.”
“Keep reminding me.” He brushes the hair back from my face. “You referred to me as your boyfriend.”
Laughing, I say, “Well, you are.”
“That’s a first for me. I need a minute to enjoy it.”
“I’ll say it every day if you want.”
“That’d be good.”
We stand there, holding each other until the chopper departs, leaving us once again alone in the dark.
“Come on,” he says, “let’s get going.” He holds the door for me and closes it after I get settled.
When he gets in the car, he looks over at me. “You sure you’re not hurt at all?” He rubs his chest as he asks.
“I’m fine, but are you? Should we get your chest checked?”
“I don’t think we need to. It’s just bruised from the seat belt.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I don’t take any chances in that area. Nothing to worry about.” He turns the car back toward Austin, and we set out, both of us subdued after our close call.
“You know,” I say a while later, “this was a sign.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nona is a big believer in the universe sending us signs, like the one you got when Jason called about the job in Miami. Think about what just happened. We’re out in the middle of nowhere, not another car in sight, and the one car we encounter nearly hits us head on. One or both of us could’ve been killed. It’s proof we’re doing the right thing.”
“I’m glad we’re doing the right thing—and PS, I already knew that—but I’m not sure I follow how it’s a sign.”
“We could’ve died right here on this lonely road in West Texas, Wyatt. We’re all going to die someday. You might go sooner than the rest of us, but it could’ve been me today if that car had hit us just right.”
“Don’t even say that. I can’t bear to think of anything happening to you.”
“I can’t bear to think of anything happening to you, either, but it will. Someday. In the meantime, we have to soak up every single moment of happiness and joy out of the time we do have without spending another second worrying about when it all might end.”
“It sounds so simple when you say it like that, but for so many years, I just didn’t think that was possible.”
“That’s because you were planning for worst-case rather than living best-case. You just needed me to show you that.”
He surprises me when he pulls the car over and turns on the flashers.
“What’re you doing?” I ask him.
Reaching for me, he tips my chin up to receive his kiss. “I’m so, so thankful I found you, and you showed me how to live.”
I place my hand on his sweet, handsome face and return the kiss with a bit of tongue that makes him gasp. “Have you ever done it in the desert?”
“Not in the Texas desert.”
That makes me laugh even as I continue to kiss him.
“As much as I’d love to christen the Texas desert, I’d be afraid of someone hitting us.”
“Good point.”
We reluctantly separate, but he takes hold of my hand and doesn’t let go.
I hope he never lets go.
