Reckless Abandon by Jeannine Colette
I open the car door, begging entrance into a world of speed and carelessness. I’ve always done things by the book. Tonight, I want to be reckless.
It could be the liquor talking, but I don’t care.
“Where are we going next?” Luke turns up the stereo. All the way up to the point your eardrums try to close in protection of the onslaught of erratic beats and heavy metal.
“Anywhere you want, baby bro! Tonight I feel like flying!” I bang my head on the doorframe as my butt falls hard onto the passenger seat of his Mustang. I raise my hand to the spot that should hurt but surprisingly doesn’t.
Luke shakes his head and laughs. “You’re gonna feel that in the morning. You’re numb drunk.”
I twist my face and think about how drunk I possibly am.
Do I know where I am? Yes. I am in Luke’s car.
Where did we just come from? The bar? Yes. The bar.
I’m not too sure how many drinks I had. My guess is three, four, seven . . . wait.
My mouth pulls in and my throat clenches as I release a warm air belch. The quiet kind that leaves a liquor aftertaste in your mouth.
Positive assessment: I am drunk. Just enough to feel really f*cking good, but not enough to drive. That is why my baby brother is bringing my ass home.
“Drive.” I order.
“Yes, Ma’am!” Luke salutes me and puts the car in gear.
When you live in a rural town, driving at night can be dangerous. With dark winding back roads and the only light coming from your own vehicle, you have to proceed with caution.
Not tonight.
“Let’s run the night!”
Luke changes gears and we zip down the roads he knows like the back of his hand.
“I like drunk Emma!” he shouts over the music, and I just close my eyes and smile.
I like drunk Emma too.
Sober Emma does everything right. Practices every day. Follows the rules. Dates the right boys.
Boys. Fucking boys.
I almost forgot about the douche who broke my goddamn heart. I spent the entire day torn up over him. I wasted years of my life being there for him.
And then he left me.
Just. Like. That.
“Faster!” I hear the words pour out of my mouth but don’t actually feel my mouth move.
“Really?” Luke asks.
I open my eyes and look over at him. My eyebrows scrunch close together and give my best stare down. “Faster!”
With a lead foot, Luke drives. Rapid, thoughtless, and uninhibited.
The heavy bass shouting through the sound system makes the car vibrate and my pulse race. I hear Luke sing along. My mind is a rush of adrenaline and my fingertips rise above my head and then out the open window. The passing wind makes me feel alive and wild.
Luke takes a turn and the tires of the car screech, my body slightly rises from the seat. I have to grab the door to get my bearings. He straightens out with precision and my heart pounds.
That felt so f*cking good.
With his hand on the gear he shifts with each sharp turn, losing ground over hills. The wooded confines become a blur in the black night. The fast passing gravel ahead is all I see.
The world around me starts to move. Fixing my eyes on the dash, I try to ground myself but it’s not working. The wild movements make my head feel dizzy. My stomach rolls up and away from itself. I think I’m going to puke. We should stop.
We should . . .
The tires squeal. A loud bang comes from Luke’s side of the car and the force of the impact slams me into my door.
Spinning.
We’re spinning.
Luke’s hands are grabbing violently at the steering wheel. He’s out of control.
It’s happening too fast.
My head smacks against the door and then toward the windshield. Like a rag doll, my body is shifted. I have to grab hold of something but I can’t reach anything.
The glass implodes. I raise my hands to cover my face from the shattering shards. My arms are covering my eyes. I can’t see anything but I feel the weightlessness of antigravity.
I start to pray but the words can’t get out of my mouth fast enough.
The car crashes hard into the ground with a force so powerful . . . so fierce . . . so . . .
Silent.
“How much further to the top?” Leah whines, clenching onto her roller suitcase. The casters make a thumping sound, banging against each step as she pulls it up the mountain of stairs.
“We could have taken the bus.” My voice is an I-told-you-so singsong, slightly wincing, as I try to tame the ache shooting up my left arm. It’s my less-dominant one and not made for lifting a suitcase vertically up a hill.
We’re both a little snippy from our long day of travel. It has been an episode of planes, trains, and automobiles to get us here. Yesterday morning, we woke up in Columbus and boarded a plane to New York, only to transfer to another flight to Dublin. After a serious layover and a few pints of Guinness, we boarded our third and final flight to Naples, Italy. With seventeen hours of travel behind us, we were elated to board a hydrofoil to take us to the island of Capri.
We are tired, we want showers, and a glass of Prosecco wouldn’t hurt either.
I raise my gaze to the incredible surroundings. When the boat pulled up to the Grande Marina of Capri, I had to blink to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. The sight so surreal, Schubert’s Ninth Symphony played in my head as a virtual theme song.