1Step after step Travis indulged in his happiness. He wasn't just happy, he was static with ecstasy, so full of it that his chest felt like it would burst from it. The walk would cool him down. Already it was relaxing him before he could blow a fuse in his mind.
Everything was beautiful. The night. The haze covering the full moon like a silk curtain. The breeze breathing coolly on his face. Even the grass that grew through the cracks in the road. All of it. It was all too beautiful for his emotional complexion to handle.
He walked with a huge, unmoving grin on his lips that stretched his cheeks as far as they'd go. His hands were in his pockets, thumbs poking out, wiggling little circles at the air. Crazily, he could've stripped naked and ran and ran, screaming like a lunatic escaping from his ward, and wouldn't have cared. Shaking his head, Travis laughed at the thought of it, as if it were actually happening now. To think of it. Conservative Travis running out without clothes, his willy flapping in the air like a political statement. Conservative Travis who still lets his mother lick her thumb and rub it on his face if there happened to be a smudge of dirt on his cheek. He breathed in deeply. The air smelled of dew, freshly settling below the starred night. His lungs and chest expanded, filled by the air, and as he let it out through his mouth it came in the form of a joyful shout, heard by no one but the moon and the sky.
"She loves me!" he then screamed. "And I love her!" The stars blinked and twinkled as if to giggle at his joy.
I could die happy, he thought. A strange ending to a perfect day, but that wasn't the point. Travis had an odd feeling that he'd never be able to recreate such satisfaction and happiness again in his life. If he died tonight, he'd be able to treasure the feeling forever.
He bit his lower lip, closing his eyes, trying to recapture the good night's kiss he'd gotten from her. Effortlessly, he could feel her lips upon his, the palm of her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to her. His hands were on her hips, feeling static electricity running up his veins from his fingertips. For those short seconds, the two of them were molded into one another, inseparable, blending their body heats as one.
Then the porch light flicked on, making them jump. They froze, faces inches away from one another, turned sideways to look at the screen door opening. Her hand was still on his neck, and his fingertips lifted gently from her hips.
A tall man stepped out, clearing his throat. His hair was jelled neatly in waves, and his dark brown goatee was spiky, giving off small flints of reflected light at the tips. There was a homely aroma that came off of him, hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, although it had the slight resemblance of potpourri, but more masculine. Jenna smoothened the wrinkles from her jean skirt. Travis rubbed his neck uncomfortably where it met his jaw line.
"Dad!" she exclaimed, "You scared me. I thought you were mom."
The man looked at his watch, then up again smiling, "You made it back just in time."
"Like I promised."
"I wasn't worried. Say goodnight, Jenna, and then go on upstairs. We've got church in the morning."
She turned and hugged Travis, squeezing him tightly. Their faces were so close that their cheeks rubbed. His face was surrounded by her long blonde hair. His face flushed red, eyes watching her father raise an eyebrow at the gesture. Into his ear she whispered, "I love you Travis." It was the first time she'd ever said it to him. Just then his eyes grew large, and then she let go, turning to go inside.
Her father smiled at him then said, "If that kiss had lasted any longer you would've been late for her midnight curfew."
"Yeah, um, about that."
"Don't worry, Travis. I'm okay with it. I know you well, better than you think, and I'd much rather see her kiss you than any other guy I see walking at school everyday. I'm the reason you two got together if you don't remember."
"I remember, Coach."
"You don't have to call me that here."
"Well I just want to say thank you, Mr.-"
"Just call me Larry," he said before Travis could finish.
"Thank you, Larry," he said, feeling a little odd for calling his basketball coach by his first name. "She means a lot to me, and I would've never been with her if it weren't for you."
"You're a good kid, Travis." Travis smiled at that, enjoying the esteem coming from him. "Do you need a ride home?"
"No, I can walk. I don't live far. It's a beautiful night out anyways."
"Better be careful. There's always loonies out at night."
"No worries."
Then Larry turned, shutting the door behind him.
Now here he was, a few blocks away from Jenna's house, thinking back to that one significant moment. He couldn't have been more thankful of that day when her father had introduced her to him. Shyly, he'd shaken her hand, and in that small moment all three of them knew. They knew something, although not entirely sure on exactly what. It was as if a small spark and ignited. Small, and yet big enough to recognize that there was a definite charge of electricity running between the two of them. Touching her hand had felt like swishing a three pointer with his eyes closed. So perfect. So smooth.
Up until that day he'd never noticed her before, even though they went to the same school. But from that day on, everywhere he turned down the halls, somehow her face always managed to catch his attention. It had actually been her father's idea for them to go on their first date. Strangely enough, it had been a success.
Travis's cell phone rang then, breaking his train of thought. "Hello?" he answered.
"Hi Honey, are you coming home?" The voice on the phone was tired, worn to the full extremity of the day's end. It was a warm voice, the kind that could feed heat to a candle's flame and make it grow.
"Hey mom. Yea, I just walked Jenna to her house. I'll be home pretty soon."
"Walked? I thought you took the car."
"I did, but we left it at the bowling alley and walked from there. It's nice out so we thought it'd be a good idea."
"Oh Honey, it's dangerous out at night. I'd rather you be driving than walking home by yourself."
"I'll be all right," he said, nagging a bit to let her know he was grown enough now that he could handle a walk.
"All right. Did you have a good time?"
"Yep, yep. What's up? Why'd you call?"
"I just opened a letter from North Carolina University," she paused and Travis braced for the bad news, already his joy starting to fade, "and they accepted you! Plus they're giving you a full ride Basketball Scholarship!"
"What!" he said incredibly. "That's great!"
"I know, Honey! Isn't it?"
"How come I didn't' see the letter earlier today?"
"It was under a pile of bills. You must have missed it."
"Thanks for calling mom. I'll see you in a few minutes. I'm almost home."
"All right. Congratulations, Travis."
"Love you, mom."
"Love you, too."
They hung up, and Travis jumped in the air, screaming and hooting, fed by excitement. He was amazed by how perfectly these pieces were falling right into place. Invincible, that's how he felt. No doubt about it. He could've taken on the world without breaking a sweat. How perfect life can be when you want it to be. North Carolina was the same University both he and Jenna had applied to. They'd both planned on going there even before they met, and now they would both attend there together. Maybe in life there are no coincidences. Maybe they were destined to be together. Again the kiss's sensation returned to his lips, stealing away his attention. He thought of her as the ultimate suppleness of beauty.
Just then an immense, bright light filled his image. The headlights of a pick up glided above the road, coming his way. The honk tooted once, then twice again quickly. What does this guy want? Travis thought. Then a long horn followed, ripping a scream into the fabric of silence. What the hell's he want from me? Then the headlights veered off road. coming straight towards him. A game of chicken was on. Travis realized this much. "I'm not moving," he said softly, feeling as invincible as ever. With his hands stuffed in his pockets, Travis stood his ground. His face was bleached into the whiteness, his pupils narrowed into pinholes, and his jaw was so tight that it could crack walnuts. With another honk, chills rippled in his skin. Travis's lips parted, chin dropping with it. And then it happened. Within a blink of an eye, the front end of the truck slammed into Travis's hips. The right head light cut off dead. The impact made Travis's chest thrust forward, smacking facedown on the hood. Then the front tire caught onto his sneaker, gripping his pant leg underneath with it. The truck's suspension shimmered as the tires ran over his body helplessly. All of it happened in an instant, faster than the shutter of a camera opening and closing could ever hope to catch it.
The driver hit the brakes, and the truck slid a few feet on the loose dirt before stopping. For a long moment there wasn't movement anywhere. Then, from inside the truck, a muffled voice screamed, "Fuck! Shit! Fuck, fuck! Shit!"
The driver's door opened, creaking as its hinges turned. A glass bottle clinked to the ground and rolled. The driver stepped out, a stout young man with a neck as thick as his jaws. His hair was short, but neatly flattened down with gel. He walked around to the rear of the truck rubbing his face tensely. His lips trembled. He was trying to say something but wasn't able to get it out. Another door opened, the passenger's side, and a tall, lanky guy stumbled out. He nearly rolled his ankle and fell to the ground. Blond hair was spiked up above his forehead. His face was annoyed, irritated more than scared. More bottles clinked to the ground, this time two or three.
"Bill, let's get out of here," the passenger said, looking at Travis, his eyes as big as cue balls. A trickle of blood ran down to his eyebrow. He touched it with a fingertip and dismissed it, flicking it away. "Come on, let's get out of here, I said."
"What, are you crazy, Jared?"
"Someone might see us!"
"What if they already did? That's a hit and run!"
Jared tried to grab Bill by the shoulders, pulling him away, but his fingers slipped over the leather of his Letterman jacket. Bill shook him off without much effort, elbowing him away to break his grip.
"We probably can't do a thing for him! Look at him! Look at his legs!" Jared said. Travis's pant leg was tore in several places. Underneath, his skin was cut open, torn muscles and flesh left exposed. Painfully, Travis tried to breathe, wheezing like a sick kid with asthma. The two of them gulped sickly at the sight. Jared turned away, trying to prevent himself from gagging.
"We've got to take him to a hospital," Bill said.
"You're joking."
"Joking? Does any of this seem funny to you?"
"Let's reason things out for a moment here, Bill."
"What's there to reason? We hit some kid, and we need to take him to an emergency room."
"It's not that simple!"
"Why not?"
"You're drunk!" Jared said angrily, stressing a detail that Bill had apparently forgotten about. "They'll wrap your wrists with a nice pair of handcuffs. Don't you realize it?"
They both looked down at the few empty beer bottles that had fallen from the truck. These weren't the only ones either. There'd been quite a few more, the contents now guzzled down from inside them and the bottles tossed out somewhere along the road.
Bill walked to the rear of the truck, leaning on it for a moment, thinking. Then he stepped back beside the limp body on the ground. Travis groaned. The sound made Bill cringe, nearly bringing him to tears, but he swallowed, and somehow that made the feeling go away. His saliva tasted like cough syrup and felt slick down his throat.
"How could we be so stupid?" Bill said softly, looking up at Jared seriously.
"What we? You were driving," he said scornfully, like a child nagging, 'You started it!'
"This was your idea!" bill outburst, pointing his index finger at Jared, holding it accusingly like the muzzle of a gun.
"He was supposed to move out of the way! How can you blame it on me? He didn't even budge."
"'Let's play some chicken with him. Give him a scare,'" Bill mimicked Jared's voice, playing back a piece of the past like a tape recorder.
"I didn't force you to run him over!"
"How could this happen?" Bill asked rhetorically, "How the hell could this happen? It was supposed to be a game!" Then he shrugged, shaking his head sorrowfully, and in a whisper he said, "Only a game."
On the ground, Travis gave a sickly cough. A bit of spit sprayed on his lower lip, settling there. No blood came with it. The only blood was on his legs, tainting his clothes and skin in distasteful splatters. He coughed again, this time harsher as if he were choking or suffocating. His throat cleared, and he resumed breathing normally, although still heavily.
"I'm taking him to the hospital, no matter what you say. I'll drop you off right after."
"I'm not coming with you."
"What?"
"Listen, it's stupid for the both of us to get into this. You ran him over: You drop him off. My house is just down the road. I can walk from here."
Bill watched him in disbelief.
"You can't do this." A quiver arose in Bill's voice, near to a sob but not quite. Jared turned away, saying nothing, but Bill grabbed him by the arms and spun him around.
"Lay off me!" he said, pushing Bill away with both arms. They stared into each other's eyes in a ballistic glare. "If anyone asks, I wasn't with you tonight. I don't want to get involved in this. You hear me?"
Bill's brow twitched. He couldn't believe it. His own best friend was going to bail on him when things couldn't possibly get any worse. Jared took a step back. Their stare remained fixed, unbroken, and then he turned away, talking the road to his house.
"At least help me get him in the truck!" Bill shouted after him. Jared didn't respond. He just kept on walking solemnly, unaffected by any of it. Bill rubbed his face, massaging his cheeks and skin with his fingertips. Just then he had a sudden urge to drive off. Walking away from his problems just like Jared was. He flattened the palm of his hand on the glass window of the driver's side of the truck. His other hand settled on the door handle. Opening the door, a binging sound came on telling him he'd left the keys in the ignition. Boosting himself up, he sat at the wheel, ands gripped tightly around it. The keys jingled at his fingertips. Two key chain plaques hung from the mess of keys. One read, "Party without regrets" while the other cheered, "Life's a game. Play it to the bone." Both had been his mottos once. That ended tonight.
The two mottos had collided tonight: the game bringing out the regrets into the open. In the end, both had been proven wrong. He shook his head, saying, "No. This isn't right."
He opened the door and stepped out, taking the keys with him. Clutching his fists around the key chains and the cluster of keys, he pulled them apart, snapping the small plaques off. He tossed them down on the dirt, giving them up. He kneeled down beside Travis, leaning over him, hands over knees for support.
"Hey, can you hear me?" Bill asked, nudging Travis on the shoulder. His voice sounded as fragile as porcelain. Travis's eyes flickered open and shut. Then they squeezed tightly, and opened again slowly.
"Hu?" Travis answered groggily, sounding confused.
"Can you hear me?" he repeated.
"Yeah, yeah. Who are you?"
"I'm Bill. What's your name?" So much sorrow was riding on his voice, choking it down to a whisper that had sound but no breath.
"Bill."
"Your name's Bill?"
"No, no." he tried to think. "Travis. My name's Travis."
There was a moment's pause where neither of them spoke. Bill didn't know what to say, or how to put what he needed to say into words, rather.
"What happened?" Travis finally asked.
"You've just been in a really bad accident. But don't worry, I'm going to take you to a hospital."
"Where's Jenna?"
"Who's Jenna?"
"Jenna. I was just kissing her. Where'd she go?" Forcefully, he tried to sit up. He swung one arm over his chest, turning his torso to look over his shoulder, but his other arm gave out weakly under the weight. "Jenna!" he screamed for her.
"Travis. Try to calm down. Relax. It's just you and me here."
Travis's expression was easy to read. He didn't believe him. Either that, or couldn't understand what he was saying to him.
"I need you to try something for me, Travis. Tell me if you can move your legs."
Travis tried, grunting. He squeezed his thighs with his hands, trying to revive the nerves in them. It was hopeless. It was as if they weren't even there, unattached to the rest of his body. He cried out in pain, concentrating all of his efforts on the simple act that had now become impossible. Angry at his legs for not obeying and at himself for failing, he began to punch down at them. He struck at his thighs, at his knees and even down at his shins. As he was sitting up, beating himself for a feeling, Bill noticed a gash across his back and a black crack of blood on the back of his skull. Travis grew tired quickly, his mind filled over by a liquid dizziness, and he stopped swinging his fists.
"I can't," he said, his words coming out quivering at the lips.
Bill moved behind Travis, cradling his arms under his armpits. Tumbling, he lifted and dragged him to the truck. Travis screamed out in pain. Torn muscles stretched and pulled from his waist down. Bill lifted him up, bear hugging him from behind with one arm while opening the passenger door with the other. He sat him down, lifting and swinging his feet over inside carefully. Running around the front, Bill sat back down at the wheel. In a rush of panic he turned over the engine and started driving.
"We were playing chicken, weren't we?" Travis said. Blood from the back of his head poured out in thin streams, staining the seat. His head leaned back on the headrest limply, his mouth kept ajar, and his eyes barely open. As bill took a turn, Travis's head bobbed up and back, rolling on his neck without much support.
Bill hesitated answering, but then said, "Listen. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it to turn out like this. It was supposed to be a game. Only a game."
"I won, didn't I?" he gave a weak smile, drained of all of the glamour that it used to hold.
"You did."
"I'm so happy," Travis then whispered. He shut his eyes, treasuring the feeling forever.