"All that crazy shit in general," he said. "It seems like it would fuck with your head. I mean - no offense, you seem pretty normal and all. For an actress, I mean."
I laughed. "Give it a while," I said. "I'll impress you with my brand of crazy."
"Hah." He paused, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove. "Go for it."
"Go for what?"
"Impress me," he said. "What's your brand of crazy?"
I was silent for a minute. My crazy was too much for someone like Elias - someone who seemed like a normal guy, if there was such a thing - to deal with. "Well, I can't give away all my secrets," I said. "But this is probably already on the internet anyway, so I might as well say it here. I took a baseball bat to all of Viper's shit, all his memorabilia and stuff."
"Yeah?" he asked. "So you smashed the shit out of a bunch of his collectibles, because he was fucking your sister? That's like, nothing."
"It was some really priceless stuff," I said, sheepishly. "Like a Heisman Trophy he acquired. And the bat was Mickey Mantle's."
"The asshole deserved it, didn't he?" he asked. "He's lucky you didn't take the bat to his ass. I'm only slightly impressed by the fact that you destroyed a bunch of collectibles."
"Only slightly?" I asked. "I'm not sure if I should be disappointed or scared that you don't think that's crazy."
"Eh," he said. "I wouldn't call it crazy. More like redneck justice."
"Redneck justice, huh?" I asked, my face coloring. All this time and effort trying to get away from my past and my behavior always betrayed me.
Elias looked over at me and winked. "Don't worry, darlin'," he said. "It's a compliment, not an insult. Where I come from, it means you've got some balls."
I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes, and I turned to look out the window, trying furiously to blink them away. Not now. Not here, in front of him, this guy I just met. I was not going to cry. I didn't even know why I was upset.
"Shit," Elias said. "I didn't mean anything by it."
I didn't know why I was crying, just that I felt like I'd been running on an adrenaline high for the last twenty-four hours and now I was crashing hard. I wiped a tear from my cheek.
Elias reached over and touched me. His hand on my leg was warm, the heat radiating through my body. Even through the haze of tears, his touch was electric.
"I wasn't saying you were crazy or anything," Elias said, sounding confused.
"I'm not a crier," I said, sniffling. "I'm really not. I don't know what my problem is."
"It's all right," he said. "I have that effect on women."
"Making them cry?" I asked. I couldn't help but smile.
"Well, sometimes it's hard to be in the presence of someone this good looking," he said, gesturing to himself.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, I can see how that would make them cry."
"Hey," he said. "You know what you need?"
"What?" I wiped the corner of my eye. At least he didn't think I was a total baby. Or was polite enough not to say so to my face, anyway.
"You like drive ins?"
ELIAS
Shit. I stole a glance at her. At least she wasn't crying anymore. I couldn't help but get a little panicked at the sight of a girl crying - what guy didn't feel that way? But I guess she had just broken up with her fiancé and shit. Most girls would be wallowing in a pint of Ben and Jerry's and listening to sappy music - that's how they did it in the movies, right? At least this chick wasn't like most girls-shit, she'd beat her fiancé's collectibles into pieces with a baseball bat.
That was fucking cool.
I could respect shit like that, even if it was crazy.
So, if she was shedding a few tears in the car now, who was I to judge?
"Do I like drive ins?" she asked. "That's kind of random. But okay. You mean like a movie theater?”
“Nope,” I said. “Like a restaurant. Up ahead. I’m starving.”
“Oh,” she said. “You mean a Sonic.”
I rolled my eyes. “While I appreciate the fact that you even know what a Sonic is, being a big movie star and all, no. It’s not a chain. It’s an old place. It's been here since the fifties.” I squinted, watching for it to come into view. “At least, it used to be here. It’s been a few years.”
“Since you’ve been back home?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” she asked.
“You’re awful nosy,” I said. I squinted as Linda’s Drive In came into view.
"What's West Bend like, anyway?" she asked, as we pulled into the parking lot.
I shrugged. “I don't know. Like any other small town.”
How the hell did I explain West Bend to an outsider? Real pretty on the outside but rotten to the core inside? Maybe it was just me and my brothers that were that way, all looks and no substance. It’s what my father used to say.
God rest his soul, my mother said when she’d called to tell me the news.
I’d laughed bitterly. Can’t rest what you don’t have, I’d told her.