Until the World Stops - L.A. Witt Page 0,66
of destroyed buildings, smoldering cars, and roving bandits, it was just quiet and nearly empty. The odd car drove past. People trickled into the drive-thru lanes of four fast food places I could see from here. Someone occasionally walked by, a mask over their face and a dog’s leash in their hand. It wasn’t like zombies had come through or aliens had attacked. It wasn’t like the war-torn cities and villages I’d seen in Iraq. It was like one day, most of the population had just…disappeared. Instead of a Mad Max hellscape, it was eerily peaceful.
Restaurants were still open for curbside and drive-thru, so at least that felt quasi-normal. We stopped for burgers, cheese curds, and Blizzards at the Dairy Queen drive-thru, and then Tristan parked his truck in the parking lot outside a clothing store. There wasn’t a soul in sight except for a couple of cars in the drive-thru we’d just left and a flock of seagulls lurking in the parking lot, probably waiting for some discarded or unattended food.
My Blizzard was melting faster than I could eat my burger and cheese curds, so I ate it at the same time. And why the hell not? The world was on fire, we were in the middle of a pandemic, my whole family might have COVID—why bother with arbitrary rules anymore? Dessert was part of dinner now.
Tristan apparently agreed.
As he ate, I did a double take. “Did you just… Did you just dip a cheese curd in your Blizzard?”
“Why not?” He shrugged unrepentantly. “You’ve never stuck a fry in your Frosty at Wendy’s?”
I blinked. “Uh. No?”
“Seriously?” He tsked, shaking his head. “You’re missing out, man.”
I regarded him dubiously. Dipping salty things into ice cream? Really?
Well, hell. Rules didn’t matter anymore, did they?
So I took a cheese curd out of the carton, dragged it through my semi-melted Blizzard, and popped it in my mouth. The hot and cold kind of canceled each other out, and the sweet and salty… “Wow. Damn. That is good.”
“Told you!” He dipped another cheese curd in his Blizzard. “My brother taught me to do that. And I mean, okay, he was a bit of a stoner in high school, so that might have influenced some of his snack ideas.”
I arched an eyebrow. “He was a bit of a stoner?”
Tristan looked at me. “What?”
“I feel like your brother wasn’t the only one in your house who had a thing with Mary Jane.”
He chuckled, popping the ice cream-covered cheese curd into his mouth. “Never said he was. He just did more than me or my sister. Like, by a long shot.”
I laughed softly. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”
“Pfft. Don’t tell me you never tried it.”
“I didn’t.”
“Bullshit.” He eyed me, then straightened. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Completely.”
“Not even once.”
“Nope.” I shook my head.
“But… But you grew up in Seattle, didn’t you? Wasn’t that, like, Weed Central?”
Shaking my head again, I said, “Everyone says it was, but I never saw it. I mean, we had some stoners at my school, but I was always so terrified of getting in trouble and getting suspended or something, I never did it.”
“You’re killing all my fantasies about Seattle, you know.”
“Sorry?”
“Next thing you’re going to tell me is that the Gum Wall is just a myth.”
I barked a laughed. “The Gum Wall is not a myth. And in fact I stuck a wad of gum to it myself.”
“You did?”
“Are you kidding?” I dipped my cheese curd in its intended sauce this time. “Everyone did.”
“I can’t decide if that sounds gross or awesome.”
“Little from column A, little from column B.” Funny—the cheese curd didn’t taste nearly as good in the marinara as it did in the ice cream. Go figure.
We kept chatting about whatever while we ate, and to my surprise, I could breathe. Here we were, surrounded by the bleak, empty reminders of the pandemic that had kicked down my family’s front door, and I still managed to shut it off for a little while. Or at least dial back the intensity. Just chill in the truck with Tristan and some junk food. I wasn’t relaxed, but I was more relaxed than I should’ve been under the circumstances.
I didn’t think of him as my husband most of the time since neither of us thought of this as a real marriage, but lately, who he was in my life had changed. A lot. We were a bit less like roommates now. Instead of just coexisting in the same space to save money, we spent time together. We