Page 58 of Crash & Burn

I walk over and take it from him. “A face mask.”

“Oh,” he takes a sip of his coffee. “Well anyway, finish packing. We got to hit the road.”

It takes me until now to realize that Eddie and I are going to be alone, together, for the next four and a half hours.

“Don’t look so glum, sunshine. We have somuchto talk about.” His smile is bright but not enough to hide his feelings from me.

He is nervous. I can tell.

And so am I.

I walk over to the bed and zip up my overnight bag. I pick it up to throw over my arm, but Eddie takes it from me before I can.

“Let’s go,” he says as he walks to the door, his backpack on, with my bag in one hand and his coffee in the other.

I grab my camera bag where it is hanging on the desk chair and follow him out.

The hotel is right off the highway, so we are on the road and driving within a few minutes. We sit in borderline-uncomfortable silence, probably waiting to see what the other is going to say. Breaking the ice first, Eddie asks, “What podcast are we listening to?”

This catches me off guard. “You don’t seem like a podcast person,” I reply. I’m wearing my white coffee-stained hoodie and matching white joggers. I took my shoes off right when I got in the car, and my feet are up on the dash. Mateo and I have always been road-trip people; I have only been on a plane twice. Growing up, we didn’t go on tons of vacations, but we would drive the seven or eight hours to see our closest relatives in Ohio.

With Eddie driving Mateo’s car, I didn’t waste time getting comfortable.

“You’re not a music person,” Eddie answers matter-of-factly, and I keep my eyes on the road in front of us. The highway lanes are relatively empty on this Sunday morning, further reminding me that it is just the two of us.

Maybe that is why I answer the way I do.

“I used to be,” I say, but now that the words are in the air, I realize that I don’t want to say anymore.

“I figured,” he says, but he doesn’t push. “Why don’t you connect your phone? I’ve been dying to hear what put you to sleep on the way here.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious, did you know that?” I deadpan. Mateo’s car is old enough to still need a cord to connect to the speakers, so I plug in my phone and press play on the podcast I had planned on listening toby myself.

At least we don’t have to talk.

The voice of a woman comes on as she teases what the episode will be about, and Eddie and I fall into a more comfortable silence this time. As we listen, I can’t help but sneak glances at Eddie as the episode begins. For someone who is usually so adamant with the mask he wears around people, he is actually quite animated. When he isn’t worried about putting on his happy face, he wears his emotions openly. He goes from confused to surprised to awhat the fuckface in seconds, and watching him is more entertaining than the episode.

After about fifteen minutes, he catches my not-so-subtle chuckle when the podcast host describes the crime scene, and his eyes pop out of the sockets.

“Okay, we’re done with that,” he says, and my chuckle can no longer be hidden. “I can’t believe you listen to that shit. Forfun.”

“I’ll turn it off,” I laugh. I grab my headphones to connect my phone to them.

“Let’s just talk,” Eddie says, causing my hands to freeze on the zipper of my bag.

“Or I’ll finish the podcast and you can listen to whatever you want.”

“No, I’ll get bored. Talk to me. Please?” He slightly turns to look at me, stretching outpleasewhile attempting puppy-dog eyes while also trying to watch the road.

I hate that it works like a charm.

“Fine,” I say, sitting back up. “What do you want to talk about?

“What did you think of the show last night?” Eddie asks. He has his left hand on the steering wheel and his other arm is resting on the center console.

This seems like a safe place to start.

“You guys did awesome. The crowd kept growing, and it looked like they really liked the set.”

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