Monsieur Death

Liam

“I don’t have a license, you know.”

“You already said that.” She had. She had said it twenty six times over the last two hours. “Somebody’s going to pull us over and we’re going to have to pay billion dollars that we don’t have!”

“You already said that too.”

“Look, I’m just stressed, okay?”

“Does repeating what you say twenty six times over make you less stressed?”

She turned around and glared at me. But she stopped repeating.

“Pull over.” I told her. She did.

“You see something important?” She asked.

“Yeah. I saw you were stressed out. Let me drive.”

“You know how?”

I nodded. “And I look older. That’ll make people much less suspicious.” I didn’t know if that was true, but she had tried so hard to keep me happy the last few hours, I figured it was my turn. We drove for another hour or so. Then my stomach rumbled, and I realized I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday.

I pulled over a corner store.

“Get whatever you want.” I handed her a hundred dollar. She pushed away.

“I have my own money.”

She stepped out of the car. As soon as she had disappeared inside, her phone rang. Across it read: Mom. I didn’t answer. It wasn’t mine to do. She stepped back into the car with a bag of chips and a couple dark chocolate bars.

“I knew you liked them.” She said, throwing them on the dash. “I’m not hungry.” She looked down at her phone. “Just now?” I nodded.

It rang again. She picked up, her expression set with icy satisfaction.

“Hey Mom! We stole your car and I have a sprained shoulder! And guess what! Me and my friend are half way to San Francisco right now! Hoping your bored without me! Cheers!” She hung up.

“She knows we’re going to San Francisco now.”

She looked down and sighed. “Sorry. I was just so angry.”

I nodded. “We all get like that sometimes.”

We got back on the road. We stopped at a diner on the road. We were fine until we saw the first flyer.

It happened when we were sitting down at the diner. She had order something I had never heard of before. I told her I wasn’t hungry.

Watching her was interesting enough. She saw me looking at her and said:

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For telling my mom where we were going.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Why were you looking at me then?”

I shook my head, and she flushed and looked out the window. She suddenly gave a violent jump. I put my hand on her arm.

“What’s wrong?!”

She pointed a shaking hand towards a blue and gray poster. Upon it was a picture of her.

“My mom....” she trailed off. “I’m really sorry. Now they’re looking for me.”

“I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“No. Maybe it’s better.”

She gave a sharp laugh. “Why would it be better?!”

I shrugged. “Things work in strange ways.”

She shook her head. “We have to leave.”

“Why? Aren’t you hungry?”

“I am..... but I can just eat on the road. The waiter asked me why I looked familiar. I didn’t know why.” She’s going to come over and see the poster and recognize me.”

I guess she was right. We got in the car and drove away. She got in the backseat this time, and heard her crying. I wasn’t sure what to do.

“We’re almost there.”

I heard her nodded.

“Your mom doesn’t deserve you.”

“What?”

“Or your dad. Or your sister. If they’re going to be jerks, there’s not much you can do about it. After all, soon enough you’ll be old enough to leave the house anyway, right? Which reminds me.”

I opened the well of the car and pulled out a new pair of clothes.

“Glad birthday?” I asked. I wasn’t sure that was the way you said it.

“Happy Birthday.” She corrected, but she was wiping her tears and smiling.

“Happy Birthday.” I said.

“Thank you, Liam.” Then her expression turned serious. “Only it’s not Liam anymore, is it? Monsieur Death? Or the Grim Reaper?”

“Actually, I kind of like Liam.”

She smiled again. “Me too.”

***********

We pulled over at a hotel around mid afternoon. We couldn’t see a poster anywhere, and we both needed a break from driving. Evangeline has the idea to rip off the license plate and buy a new one. We also found her mom’s license in the back seat and she said we might as well use it. She looked a lot like her, and her mom’s picture was from ten years ago. We checked in and order a meal to come up. Evangeline showered and changed while I ate, and then we switched out. By the time I came out of the shower, she had set up a board game and tried to teach me how to play.

It was called sorry, and I didn’t understand it very well, but it was fun, and afterwards we just sat and talked. Mostly, she taught me how to use a phone, which took a while, and how to eat spaghetti. Then we climbed out the window( we were on the first floor) and got back into the car. She drove this time, and seemed much happier.

She talked about the time she broke her arm, and when she shattered her collarbone, and the time she got a blood clot.

“You get hurt a lot.”

“Yeah.”

We were quiet.

“Did you ever hurt your foot?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You seemed to hurt everywhere else. And you limp a tiny bit on the foot.”

She looked at me, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d notice. Yeah, a fractured it in sixth grade.”

“Grade?” I asked.

She nodded. “The levels of school you go through to finish and know things.”

“Oh. So you were six?”

“No. You usually start around five or four and go up from there.”

I didn’t understand, but I nodded anyway. I was getting tired of everything I didn’t know.

“Hey.” Evangeline nudged me.

“What?”

She pointed up at the invasive structure over us.

We had arrived at in San Francisco.