The ominous glow of the headlights ahead filtered through the rain as it continued to fall. I sat in his BMW and glanced over at him. Ben hated listening to top 40 music, but he turned the radio station to 102.7 for me anyway, which made me smile. We were listening to Gavin DeGraw’s I’m in Love with a Girl. I was singing along to the lyrics and was surprised when I saw Ben singing the words as well. Sensing me watching him, he turned, quickly looked at me, and stopped singing. “If I ever wrote a song, this is the one I’d have written about you,” he said. Then he turned the radio up louder, and the lump that I had in my throat earlier returned.
We had been together so long that sometimes I lost sight of what I loved about him. At this moment I knew it was just everything; the way he carried his six-foot frame, his short dirty blond hair, his dimples, and the way he commanded attention from everyone with his confidence. Sometimes it seemed to border on arrogance, but it only made people notice him more.
Growing up he was all surfer, and even as an adult he still was. I smiled thinking that as a kid he had such a bad mouth, was hotheaded, and most teachers said he had a poor attitude, but I never thought so. That was just his way. As I looked over at him driving on the freeway I realized it still was his way, and God I loved him.
He looked at me as he pulled off the freeway, continuing to drive through the streets of LA. “What?” he said while turning the radio down, just as the song ended.
Grinning at him, I reached over the console to place my hand on his thigh and ran it up his leg. “We’re going to be late to your first award party, and it’s all your fault.”
With a shit eating grin on his face he said, “So fucking worth it,” as he changed the radio station.
We stopped at a traffic light, and I took my hand off his leg to turn the radio station back. I heard tires squealing, and when I looked up, I saw a big black SUV with heavily tinted windows jackknifed in front of us. Its passenger door opened, and a man in a ski mask jumped out holding a gun.
I screamed at Ben, “Oh my God, he has a gun!”
Panic set in instantly, and I struggled to breathe as he approached Ben’s side of the car. “Get the fuck out of the car!”
I was frozen in place as my body riveted with fear. What’s going on? In my panicked state, I hit the lock button on the door, but the car was already locked. My sweaty palms were shaking, and I grabbed for Ben. He looked at me, and I knew he was trying to contain his own emotions. “Just keep calm, Dahl.”
My eyes were locked on the gunman as his eyes shifted to mine. Terror shot through me as he tapped his gun against the window a couple of times and then pointed it at me.
Frantically, I started beating the dash and was screaming, “Drive, Ben drive!”
He pounded the steering wheel with his fists. “We’re fucking blocked in.”
He grabbed my hand tightly, while his other moved to open the car door. “Call 911!”
I was petrified. “What are you doing?”
“Whatever happens, don’t get the out of this car.” His voice was deep and quivering. “Do you hear me?”
I heard the click of the door and screamed, “Ben, don’t!”
He stepped onto the pavement and I yelled, “You don’t have to be the hero! Come back!”
Not taking my eyes off Ben, with trembling hands, I managed to dial 911 before the phone slipped through my fingers.
I heard a shot. Ben fell to the ground. “No! No! Noooo!”
My vision started to blur as I swallowed back the bile in my throat. My screams faded into squealing police sirens. The sirens grew louder as I grew numb, and It’s Not My Time by 3 Doors Down played on the radio while everything I knew ceased to exist.
THE DIARY OF DAHL
Life is full of sadness
Life is full of heartache
I like the silence of it all
But as I fall further into the darkness
I should try to keep my place in this world.