as I shut the door.
I make a mental note of what he wants and hurry down the steps, unlocking the truck by pressing the key fob in my pocket. The first drops of rain hit the top of my head, and my boots slip and slide in the slick mud.
“Damn it, I just polished the leather,” I gripe, keeping my head down, so the rain doesn’t get into my eyes.
Jokester will kill me for dragging mud into the new truck, but I don’t care. It’s a truck; it’s meant to get dirty.
Once I’m safe in the driver’s seat, I press the button on the dash and let the engine rumble for a few seconds. I tilt my head back and rest my eyes. I inhale and exhale to test my breathing. I’m doing pretty well that I’ll be good as new tomorrow.
The sound of the rain getting louder has me opening my eyes to see Mime getting into the passenger’s seat. He closes the door which mutes the weather outside to a low hum.
“You’re coming with?”
He nods. With one finger, he points to himself, then me, then down the road, and lastly, shakes his finger at me.
“I would have been fine going alone. You don’t have to worry so much.”
His eyes harden, and his fingers curl into the leather seats.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I know yesterday was scary. I apologize, okay? Now, let’s go before this hurricane wipes us out.” I stretch my arm over the back of the seat and turn my head over my shoulder. I haven’t ever been the type to look at the screen in the middle of the dash.
The tires spin against the mud; it splatters against the sides before the truck finds traction and finally starts to reverse. I press on the brake, turn the windshield wipers on, and stare out the window at the thunderous sky. This moment reminds me too much of the night we lost our parents. Mime’s hand touches my shoulder to bring me out of my daze.
I curl my hands over the steering wheel and muster up a slight grin as I glance at him. “Let’s see if I can lure Ryan into the truck without him kicking and screaming.”
Mime reaches behind his seat and pulls out a neon green rope.
“We are not going to hogtie him, Mime. Clever, though. A solid Plan C if A and B don’t work. Here,” I give him my phone and turn on the GPS. “Tell me when I need to turn.”
He gives me a thumbs up and presses the knob to turn on the radio. Jazz music flows through the speaker and both of us groan in horror.
“Turn it off! Turn it off!”
Mime panics and presses three different buttons and turns the opposite knob to the right to find another station. It lands on country, and we exhale a sigh of relief. Both of us agree that’s better than what was on. “Either someone really listens to that shit, or someone is fucking with us.”
He grunts in agreement and dabs his finger in his ear.
“Drama queen. Your ears aren’t bleeding.”
Mime snickers at his own joke.
When he laughs, it’s the only time I get to hear how his voice might sound. I imagine it’s deep and hoarse, cracking like our grandpas did. But Mime’s voice cracks from not being used. I’d give anything to hear him say one word, but I stopped trying for that a long time ago. Pushing him wasn’t helping. I just had to adjust to the new reality that my brother had lost his voice rather than force him to do something he didn’t, and doesn’t, want to do.
I think he’ll speak one day again. It will take something or someone life-altering for that to happen, though, so I’m not going to hold my breath.
But I hope.
“Rain isn’t too bad,” I notice, dipping my head over the wheel so I can see out the windshield. It’s windy, but that’s it. The rain isn’t coming down hard, which makes this the perfect time for accidents to happen. I bet the station is busy.
No, I can’t go down that road. Because if I do, I’ll think about Taylor, and I’ll get in my head and start blaming myself.
Mime points to the left, and I turn on my blinker as I roll to the stop sign. Since there’s hardly any traffic, I’m able to turn without having to wait, passing a bunch of tall trees on one side and open fields on the