Electric Anxiety - Chapter 1: The Curfew

Early 2006

The wind blew through his dark brown locks as he pressed his right foot into the acceleration mechanism. His left elbow hanging out the driver’s side window, left hand gripping loosely at the leather covered steering wheel. His right arm up, extending out and around her. He was hers, though he was never quite sure if she was his. She was his morning, his evening, his lightness, and his darkness. Her beauty was enough to cause his heart to skip a beat and her ample cleavage enough to make his heart to race and race. Her burgundy mane of straightened curls topped her pleasantly white face with its two diamond blue gems at the center of it. Those two blue orbs that drowned in their own two fields of white grain, could capture his soul and make him feel safe. And all this at the tender age of seventeen. Her pleasantly plump torso, pressed up against his side, and his right arm was extended up and around her, holding her to him. Electricity seemed to jump from her body to his, all the while his foot pressed the accelerator harder, making them go faster. Peripheral vision turning blurry, tunnel vision setting in. His eyes glazing over from the pure bliss he felt, he could die right now a happy man.
 

Suddenly aware as she re-adjusts, and speaks softly in a cartoony, silly voice she uses when it is just the two of them, “Charming, can we stop for some Newports?”
 

“Sure, love,” he responded in a faux British accent, as he glanced at the clock in the car. Eleven forty-nine it read, giving him eleven minutes to get her home. That number was padded by four minutes though, since he set his clock in his car to be four minutes fast. His eyes darted from the clock to the road, noticing a yellow light ahead, he hit the accelerator even harder, just as she finished re-adjusting herself, with the side of her left breast pressing into his side, a jolt of electricity shot through his body and the sparks it ignited pressed him onward, beating the yellow light. Up ahead was the gas station he frequented, George’s Store; it sold cheap gasoline and had a small convenience store. He pulled up next to the gas pump nearest the front door to the store, and then pressed the button underneath his seat and the gas cap cover to his car popped open. After kissing her on the forehead, he opened his door and hoped out; he was on top of the world. He hurried inside the store, and uttered in his usual, ordinary voice to the Indian gentleman who was working behind the counter, “A pack of Newports and put the remainder of fifteen dollars on that tank right there,” then pointing to his car.
 

“Uh… minus four and carry the two… divide by twelve… and add the remainder…” muttered the man in his eastern accent as he tried to figure out what fifteen dollars and zero cents minus two dollars and seventy-four cents was.
 

“That’s twelve twenty-six,” responded our hero as he handed the clerk a twenty.
 

“Oh yeah,” muttered the clerk as he punched in the numbers and grabbed the pack of Newports from behind the counter and handed them to the protagonist along with a crisp five dollar bill and a receipt. After taking his change and grabbing the cigarettes and putting them in his leather jacket, he hurried back to the car, tossing the Newports in the open drivers side window at his beautiful lady, who was laying across the front seat listening to Icicle Work’s “Bird’s Fly (Whisper to a Scream)” on one of the local stations that plays eighties music on the weekends.
 

As soon as the small pack of ciggies came flying through the window she grabbed them and made another one of her funny voices mocking the Lord of the Rings, “Ooooh my precious...” This always made him smirk, he knew she did not smoke often, but when she did she would make a deal out of it like she was a starving Ethiopian child who had just been handed one of those giant turkey legs they sell at Disney World. Meanwhile, he pressed the button for the cheap stuff and inserted the gas nozzle into his car’s gas reciprocal, then holding the trigger to the nozzle as he leaned back against his car and lightly whistled along to the song, remembering the horrible remake that some thrash band did of it for one of those Scream movies. He watched as the numbers increased as the tank filled up. He noticed the price of gas was down ten cents from only a month before. And yet five years ago it had been a dollar less than it was currently, oh how times change so quickly. At that thought the pump slowed down as it reached the twelve twenty-six mark. Finally the pump came to a stop and the nozzle jumped as the flow of gas came to an end. After putting up the nozzle he jumped back in the car, right as she let out a drag of light gray smoke.
 

“Want one?” she offered as she sat up and adjusted her blouse, a half burned ciggies hanging out of her mouth.
 

“You know all I need is an addiction,” it was true he did not smoke them, but he sure as hell loved the smell of them; “thanks for offering though.”
 

She finished her cigarette quickly as he started up the engine and pulled back onto the road. He glanced at the clock, eleven fifty-six. She flicked her used butt out the open passenger-side window, before scooting back over next to him and leaning against him. The speed-o-meter approached, then past the posted speed limit, but he did not care, he had a curfew to beat. His eyes darting left and right, then back left again; he knew where the cops liked to hide and try and catch people, so he knew when to slow down enough. He finally pulled up to her cul-de-sac, and pulled in. The clock read twelve midnight. They had four minutes. She was finishing off her second cigarette as he pulled the car up to a stop in front of her house. The sparks flying still as he held her once again close to him. He looked down at her dark red mop of hair and took in the aroma of all that was her. Memories of the events and times they had shared before passed through his head and he knew he could spend eternity with her in his arms. Twelve oh one. Reluctantly he pulled his arm from around her and opened his door, then walking around to the other side he opened the door for her, then helping her out of the car. He noticed her hips, which would be great birthing hips. Then he noticed her lips, so tender and warm. It was too much, he was at a loss for words. So only one word came out.
 

“Well…”
 

“Yeah, I know, I had fun,” she said as they made their way to her front door.
 

“Well that is the important part,” his eyes wandering about in his nervous pool of anxiety. He noticed the sky, its dark navy star field being covered by low flying clouds that were being illuminated by the full moon. It was views like that that could turn atheists into God-fearing souls. “Look at the sky, it is so pretty… like you.”
 

“Yeah, I know-” she started before suddenly he had embraced her in a tender romantic hug, too afraid to go the step he wanted to take and to kiss her, and yet too bold to just sit there and do nothing. He knew he might regret it later, but he had to do it. He tilted her head back in his arms and pressed his mouth up against hers, feeling her tongue twirl around his, as they proceeded to tango in their mouths. From the other side of the door they heard the grandfather clock begin to chime that it was midnight, and he quickly disengaged from the kiss as she fumbled with her keys, she hastily opened the door and scampered inside, turning around quickly to wave good bye. He may not know if she was his, but he knew for sure that he was hers.