One True Loves(68)

If I go home to Sam, it needs to be with the confidence that I will never leave him. I owe him that much. I mean, I owe him everything. But taking him seriously and not toying with him is the absolute least I can do. And I’m aware that even then it might not be enough.

By loving the two of them, I am no longer sure about either. And by being unsure, I might just lose them both.

Romantic love is a beautiful thing under the right circumstances. But those circumstances are so specific and rare, aren’t they?

It’s rare that you love the person who loves you, that you love only the person who loves only you. Otherwise, somebody’s heartbroken.

But I guess that’s why true love is so alluring in the first place. It’s hard to find and hold on to, like all beautiful things. Like gold, saffron, or an aurora borealis.

“The guys inside said it’s going to snow tonight,” Jesse says as he gets back in the car. He has a pizza in his hand. “I got us a pepperoni and pineapple pizza, your favorite.” He puts the pizza in my lap.

I feel myself feigning a surprised smile. I can’t eat cheese. “Great!” I say.

And then we’re off, heading back to the cabin over the same snowy streets. Jesse takes the turns confidently now, like a man who knows his way around.

But the roads are winding and they curve unpredictably. I find myself grabbing on to the handle above my head not once but twice.

“Maybe slow down?” I offer after the second time.

I glance at the speedometer. He’s going fifty in a thirty-five-mile zone.

“It’s fine,” he says. “I’ve got it.” And then he looks at me briefly and smiles. “Live a little.”

I find myself relaxing even though we’re going just as fast. In fact, I become so at ease within the car that I am actually surprised when I hear the whoop of a cop car stopping us.

Jesse pulls over, slowly but immediately.

My heart starts racing.

He’s driving with no license at all.

None.

“Jesse . . .” I say, my voice somewhere between a panicked whisper and a breathy scream.

“It’s going to be fine,” he says. He’s so confident about everything. He always has been. He’s always the one who believes everything is going to be fine.

But he’s wrong, isn’t he? Everything isn’t always fine. Terrible things happen in this world. Awful things. You have to do your best to prevent them.

A middle-aged man in a police uniform comes up to Jesse’s window and bends over. “Evening, sir,” he says.

He has a no-nonsense haircut and a stoic stance. He’s got a short frame, a clean-shaven face, and hard edges. His hair, even his eyebrows, are starting to gray.

“Good evening, Officer,” Jesse says. “How can I help you?”

“You need to take these turns a bit more cautiously in this weather, son,” the man says.

“Yes, sir.”

“License and registration.”

This is my nightmare. This is a nightmare I am having.

Jesse barely shows a moment’s hesitation. He leans forward into the glove box and grabs a few papers. He hands them over to the officer.

“We’re in the beginning of a storm. You can’t be driving like it’s the middle of June,” the cop says as he takes the documents from Jesse and looks them over.

“Understood.”

“And your license?” The officer looks down, staring at Jesse directly. I look away. I can’t stand this.

“I don’t have it,” Jesse says.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t have it, sir,” Jesse says. This time I can hear in his voice that he is struggling to maintain his composure.

“What do you mean you don’t have it?”

I just sort of snap. My arms start moving on their own. I grab the envelope I left in the car when we drove up here.

“Officer, he’s just come back from being lost at sea.”

The officer looks at me, stunned. Not because he believes me, but because he can’t seem to believe someone would try a lie this elaborate.

“She’s . . .” Jesse tries to explain, but what’s he going to say? I’m telling the truth.

“I can prove it to you,” I say as I look through the envelope and pull out the article from years ago about Jesse being missing. His picture is right there, in the middle of the clipping. I hand it over to the cop.

I’m not sure why he humors me enough to take it, but he does. And then he looks at the picture, and then at Jesse. And I can see that while he’s still not convinced, he’s not entirely sure I’m lying, either.

“Sir,” Jesse starts, but the cop stops him.

“Let me read this.”

And so we wait.

The cop looks it over. His eyes go from left to right. He looks at the picture and then once again at Jesse.

“Say I believe this . . .” the cop says.

“He got back a couple of days ago,” I say. “He’s still waiting on a license, credit cards, really any sort of ID.”

“So he shouldn’t be driving.”

“No,” I say. I can’t deny that. “He shouldn’t. But after being lost for almost four years, all he wants is to be able to drive a car for a few minutes.”