Free Happenstance by Jamie McGuire Page A

pulled away, he hung on, so I kept my arms around him,
squeezing tighter.
    Once his arms relaxed, he handed me his keys. “Would you drive?”
    I froze. “I’ve only driven the Driver’s Ed car, and that was over
two years ago.”
    “You can do it,” he said. He opened the door and helped me into
the driver’s seat; then he jogged around and climbed in next to me.
    I nervously turned the key in the ignition, adjusted the seat and
mirrors, all while trying to recall everything I learned about driving. I
pressed on the brake and then pulled the gear into drive, pulling forward. I
paused at Main Street before driving out of the parking lot. “Where do you want
to go?”
    “Anywhere. Just drive.” He reached over and took my hand into his.
As I turned right and headed out of town, Weston rested his head against the
seat. “Everyone was apologizing to me today. It felt so weird, because I don’t
feel like I lost anything. I should feel different. Is it weird that I don’t?”
    “I don’t know how to feel either. I try not to think about it.”
    “Maybe it’s not acceptable, or maybe others wouldn’t understand.”
He turned to look at me. “But we get it. We can talk about it to each other.”
    I waited for him to expand on that thought. The Erins couldn’t
make good on Alder’s promise to make me miserable, now, and that was a good
thing. But I didn’t want to be the first one to say something so appalling out
loud.
    He looked up. “I’m sorry they were hurt. I’m sorry they lost
their lives, but I feel sort of . . . relieved. It feels like such an asshole
thing to say, but it’s the truth. Don’t you feel the same?”
    “I’m not glad they’re dead.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s a
relief to know they can’t torture me anymore.”
    Weston squeezed my hand, and after that. We didn’t talk much. I
drove until the gas light lit up on the dash. By then we were an hour south, in
Stillwater. Weston directed me to the nearest gas station and showed me how to
pump the gas.
    “You hungry?” he asked.
    “A little.”
    “Okay, I’ll grab some chips and a pizza pocket or something.
Mountain Dew?”
    I nodded. “Thank you.”
    He hung the nozzle on the pump, and then ran into the station. I
stood there, not sure which door to get in. When Weston returned, he watched
me, puzzled.
    “What are you doing, babe?”
    My purpose, where I was, and even my own name were lost on me,
because of what had just come out of his mouth. I’d heard other couples call
each other sweet terms of endearment, and I heard mothers say such things to
their children, but no one had called me anything but my name, and a few
colorful slurs. I’d always imagined what it would feel like, to hear someone
who loved me call me something simple and sweet, and it just came out of Weston
Gates’s mouth.
    I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
    “Do you want me to drive?” he asked. When I didn’t respond, he
took another step toward me. “Are you okay?”
    I took a few quick strides and jumped on him, wrapping my legs
around his middle and my arms around his neck, kissing him hard.
    He kissed me back. The sacks he was holding crackled as he
hurried to wrap his arms around me.
    When I pulled away, he smiled. “What was that for?”
    “I don’t know. I just needed to.”
    “You should follow your gut more often,” he said, kissing me
again.
    He asked me to drive, and five hours after I left work, I pulled
into Gina’s driveway. There were two police cars and another car, dark blue
with the Oklahoma Department of Human Services logo on the driver and passenger
doors.
    “Oh my God,” I said. I turned to Weston. “I don’t know what this
is about, but you have to go.”
    He shook his head. “No way. We’re getting through everything
together now, remember?”
    Hot tears burned my eyes. “I appreciate that. I really do, but this
is humiliating. I don’t want you to hear whatever they have to say.”
    “What are they