The Evening We Sat In The Truck And Let The Engine Cool

The engine ticked softly as it cooled and I kept my hands on the steering wheel even after you said my name because if I turned to look at you I knew I would say something I could not take back.

The sun was already low behind the grain silos and the sky held that thin orange light that made everything feel borrowed. Dust clung to the windshield and the cab smelled like oil heat and the faint sweetness of the apples you had brought from your mothers tree. We had parked at the edge of the field where the road gave up and the grass took over and the cicadas were loud enough to fill the spaces we were avoiding.

You leaned your head against the window and watched the light fade. Your reflection hovered in the glass over the fields and for a moment it looked like you were already somewhere else. I remembered teaching you how to drive this truck years ago laughing as you stalled it again and again. You said it was stubborn like me. I said it just needed patience.

When you finally spoke you did not start with the thing that mattered. You asked if I thought the town would ever fix the old bridge. I said probably not. You nodded like that answered something. The engine made one last sound and went quiet and the silence that followed felt deliberate.

We had grown up two streets apart and somehow never crossed paths until after college when both of us came back with plans that did not survive contact with home. The town took us in the way it always did quietly without comment. We started running into each other at the market at the gas station at the river and slowly those coincidences turned into something expected.

That summer was all heat and late evenings. We sat on porches and steps and talked until the stars came out. Sometimes we touched and sometimes we did not and the restraint felt like its own kind of intimacy. People noticed. People always noticed. We pretended not to.

In the truck that evening you reached into the bag and handed me an apple. It was warm from the day and the skin was tight and perfect. I turned it in my hands instead of eating it. You said you were leaving in the morning. You said it gently like you were talking about the weather.

I stared out at the field and tried to imagine it without you in it. The grass moved in waves and the air smelled green and alive. I thought of all the almosts we had collected and how heavy they felt now.

I asked where you were going. You told me the city name like it was already familiar. You said there was a job and an apartment and a chance to be someone who did not circle the same few blocks forever. I nodded because I wanted that for you even as something in me tightened.

We sat there as the light drained away completely. The first stars appeared and the temperature dropped. I offered you my jacket and you took it without comment. The fabric held my heat and you leaned closer without quite touching.

You said you wished I would ask you to stay. The words were quiet and careful. I said I wished you would stay without being asked. We both smiled and it hurt.

When it was time to go I turned the key and the engine roared back to life too loud in the quiet field. The headlights cut across the grass and for a moment everything was bright and exposed. I drove you back toward town slowly like speed might break something.

We parked in front of your house and the porch light came on automatically. You unbuckled and sat there for a moment longer. Then you leaned over and pressed your forehead to mine. We breathed the same air and did not kiss.

You left the jacket on the seat when you got out. I watched you walk to the door and disappear inside. I did not turn off the engine right away. The jacket lay where you had been holding the shape of you.

Later that night I drove back out to the field alone and sat in the dark. I held the apple and finally took a bite. It was crisp and sweet and gone too quickly.

In the morning the truck was cold and the jacket still smelled like you. The town woke up and the road waited. I started the engine and let it warm and then I drove without knowing yet which direction I would choose.