Breathe, Connor. Just breathe.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Mentally, Connor Lorenzen knew exactly what he needed to do to bring his blood pressure back down to normal. It was an exercise that he'd practiced many times over the years - count backwards from ten, and control your breathing. Measured, controlled breaths. It was simple, and moreover, it always worked for him.
In.
Out.
Almost always.
Madison had left the car with her usual dramatic fervour, grabbing her shoes, growling a curse at him, and slamming the door with as much force as she could muster. As his mind slowly started to come back into focus, he couldn't help but thank his lucky stars that the door frame was cushioned by an absorbent rubber layer. Otherwise, the car might have been damaged, and --
"Wha- no, NO! MADISON, WHAT THE- ?!"
The heels dug into the hood of the Corvette with a crunch that echoed inside of the cabin of the car. Connor's eyes went wide, and his controlled breathing was brought to a halt, very suddenly. He couldn't help the surprised yell, and his hands went immediately to his head as he saw her drag the heels down the hood, inevitably leaving silvery scratches in their wake.
His mind went blank. All that he could see as the paint flaked off of the hood was a figurative explosion of dollar signs and the disappointed look of Stephen Lorenzen. That look of disappointment... it cut Connor to the bone. It said to him, 'how could you have been so irresponsible', and 'can't we trust you?'
Connor screamed a guttural scream and brought his hands down to slam the steering wheel. He slammed the wheel. Once, twice, three or four times, all the while yelling in frustration at the monster standing out in front of the car. After the fourth slam, his hands quivered, and immediately shot to the seatbelt, unclipping it. Connor barely remembered opening the door and stepping out, but his own very loud, very forceful slam of the door focused his anger towards the gremlin that he saw in front of him.
He had become unglued, and his red face and squinted eyes only added to the visage.
"Are you fuckin' crazy? You are, aren't you? Y'all can't go five fucking minutes without wrecking something, can you?" He slammed his fist on the door of the car. That hurt - it barely registered but he wouldn't do it again. His hands were too valuable.
"It's always something with you, Maddy. It's always some goddamned fight, or some lousy night, or some time you've gotta be right!" In any other situation, the rhyme would probably have been funny, but humour was the last thing on his mind as his blood boiled. Connor went to take a step towards Madison but hesitated.
That wouldn't be a very good idea.
Instead, he grabbed the handle of the door and flung it open again.
"Is that what you want, huh? Y'all want to be left at the side of the road in the fuckin' dark of night, all by your lonesome? Huh?" He punctuated his yell by slamming the door again. It made a satisfying sound, so he opened the door once more.
"It's just," he slammed the door and opened it back up, "not enough, is it?"
Slam.
"I care about you more than anyone else at this school."
Another slam.
"But it still doesn't matter, because you want to throw it all away," he opened the door and slammed it shut a fourth time, "over some words? Over a simple platitude?"
He opened the door, and this time, leaned over the open door, and pointed a finger at Madison.
"Fuck me? No, you know what?"
Connor forcefully sat down and slammed the door shut once more, this time with him inside of the car. Madison was still standing outside of the vehicle and directly in the way, so he put the car in reverse and slowly started backing up. At the same time, he rolled the window the rest of the way down and stuck his head out.
"FUCK YOU."
He punctuated both words with honks of the horn, sending violent sound waves hurtling towards his girlfriend. As a coda to his temper tantrum, he leaned on the horn for a good five seconds, stopping with another fist to the steering wheel, which much like the last, didn't feel very good.
Taking a deep breath, he tried to cool himself down. It would do no use returning home in such a rage, and having to explain to his parents how the car was damaged. Shutting his eyes for a moment, he leaned his head out the window once more.
"You wanna walk so badly? Have fun, Maddy. Try not to get eaten by a bobcat."
Having reversed enough, he put the car in drive and slowly started to creep up on Madison's position in the road.
Mystery of Love
Madison stood wordlessly on the side of the highway, arms folded into herself and lips pursed so tightly that the edges turned white, her eyes trained on the pavement below her so as not to have to acknowledge the car slowly pulling up beside her. It didn't stay long, only enough to wordlessly give her the chance to change her mind, but she'd made her choice. Dug her grave, made her bed – whatever you wanted to call it. Maybe it was pride or maybe she felt like she deserved it or maybe she was scared of the silence that would be the rest of the way home, she didn't know, but whatever it was she couldn't force herself back into the car, so instead she stared at the ground until she finally heard the hum of acceleration and only then did she look up.
Everything he said was right, but it was hard to have the mirror pointed back at her and hear everything she already knew or thought about herself. She could pretend she was satisfied that she'd gotten him to say all the awful things she thought she wanted to hear and she would, but only because it was easier than being hurt. Easier than accepting the person that she was and easier than accepting that even though she wanted to change, she couldn't because maybe this was just who she was and it wouldn't get any better and that anything else would just be her lying to herself.
And it made her angry all over again.
And it made her desperate. Desperate for Connor to regret what she'd pushed him to do and to stop the car and turn around for her and desperate for him to tell her that he was just mad and didn't mean it even though she knew he did, because it'd at least make her feel good long enough to chase away everything else she was feeling.
She could feel her legs shaking, but she didn't let herself fall to her ass and she couldn't let herself cry because she didn't know how and it was pathetic.
So instead, she threw her heels to the ground and dug her bare feet into the loose rocks beneath her, because at least she could control physical pain.
“My name isn't fucking Maddy,”
She'd tried to scream, but it was barely above a whisper.
Everything he said was right, but it was hard to have the mirror pointed back at her and hear everything she already knew or thought about herself. She could pretend she was satisfied that she'd gotten him to say all the awful things she thought she wanted to hear and she would, but only because it was easier than being hurt. Easier than accepting the person that she was and easier than accepting that even though she wanted to change, she couldn't because maybe this was just who she was and it wouldn't get any better and that anything else would just be her lying to herself.
And it made her angry all over again.
And it made her desperate. Desperate for Connor to regret what she'd pushed him to do and to stop the car and turn around for her and desperate for him to tell her that he was just mad and didn't mean it even though she knew he did, because it'd at least make her feel good long enough to chase away everything else she was feeling.
She could feel her legs shaking, but she didn't let herself fall to her ass and she couldn't let herself cry because she didn't know how and it was pathetic.
So instead, she threw her heels to the ground and dug her bare feet into the loose rocks beneath her, because at least she could control physical pain.
“My name isn't fucking Maddy,”
She'd tried to scream, but it was barely above a whisper.
As the car crept by Madison at the side of the road, Connor's hands dug deeply into the steering wheel. He squeezed the leather so tightly that he could hear it constrict under his hands. He could see the scratch on the hood almost directly in his line of sight, and every time he looked back it caused his blood to boil. The audacity of Madison to demand he say something that meant as much as a wooden nickel, to express a platitude — was it not enough? The time spent on the phone, the gifts, the constant check-ins? The kindness he paid to her family; her disabled sister? Was it not enough for Madison to understand how he felt? Why did he need to say anything at all?
His blood boiled as he slowly cruised by his girlfriend, hearing the thud as she threw her shoes down on the side of the road. So she was going to have a temper tantrum, scream and yell, carry on. Yet he knew exactly how this song and dance would go. She would avoid him for days. They would both make the effort not to see one another, not to be around each other. Then Connor knew he would reach out. She would ignore him. So he'd have to make some gradioise gesture, arrive with flowers or a gift of some sort. Madison would forgive him.
Life would continue.
It happened so often; he said something that offended her, she yelled at him for something he'd done in a dream. Fights were commonplace, arguments a measure of course, and yet through all of it, the two of them still shared a fondness for one another. After all of it, Connor always knew that the two of them would eventually end up back together. It would all happen, time after time, until the one time where it wouldn't. Was that now? Was that time coming? No, he decided. The end of the school year and their respective future paths would sort that out, in time.
Connor knew that the decent thing to do would be to stop, let her get in, and take her home. Call her an Uber, even. He should do something — anything but leave her here at the side of the road. His eyes settled in to the dent in the hood of the car, and his blood boiled again. The hell with her. She wanted to sabotage herself, wreck the things that she claimed to feel were important, then she could learn this lesson on her damned own. Reaching over, Connor turned the stereo volume up as loud as it would go. The station was playing some Blake Shelton song; he couldn't place it off-hand, but it drowned out anything coming from behind him.
Pressing down on the accelerator, Connor glanced in the rear-view mirror at his infuriated girlfriend, slowly becoming smaller and smaller. He really shouldn't be leaving her behind.
"God, fucking FUCK!"
He slammed the steering wheel with a fist as his frustrations boiled over. He shouldn't, but he was. It was just another bump in the road. Just another chapter in their story. They'd both cool down, eventually — but that was tomorrow's problem. Connor sighed angrily, and floored it.
She'd forgive him; she always did.
Love worked in mysterious ways.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in It Won't Be Like This For Long))
His blood boiled as he slowly cruised by his girlfriend, hearing the thud as she threw her shoes down on the side of the road. So she was going to have a temper tantrum, scream and yell, carry on. Yet he knew exactly how this song and dance would go. She would avoid him for days. They would both make the effort not to see one another, not to be around each other. Then Connor knew he would reach out. She would ignore him. So he'd have to make some gradioise gesture, arrive with flowers or a gift of some sort. Madison would forgive him.
Life would continue.
It happened so often; he said something that offended her, she yelled at him for something he'd done in a dream. Fights were commonplace, arguments a measure of course, and yet through all of it, the two of them still shared a fondness for one another. After all of it, Connor always knew that the two of them would eventually end up back together. It would all happen, time after time, until the one time where it wouldn't. Was that now? Was that time coming? No, he decided. The end of the school year and their respective future paths would sort that out, in time.
Connor knew that the decent thing to do would be to stop, let her get in, and take her home. Call her an Uber, even. He should do something — anything but leave her here at the side of the road. His eyes settled in to the dent in the hood of the car, and his blood boiled again. The hell with her. She wanted to sabotage herself, wreck the things that she claimed to feel were important, then she could learn this lesson on her damned own. Reaching over, Connor turned the stereo volume up as loud as it would go. The station was playing some Blake Shelton song; he couldn't place it off-hand, but it drowned out anything coming from behind him.
Pressing down on the accelerator, Connor glanced in the rear-view mirror at his infuriated girlfriend, slowly becoming smaller and smaller. He really shouldn't be leaving her behind.
"God, fucking FUCK!"
He slammed the steering wheel with a fist as his frustrations boiled over. He shouldn't, but he was. It was just another bump in the road. Just another chapter in their story. They'd both cool down, eventually — but that was tomorrow's problem. Connor sighed angrily, and floored it.
She'd forgive him; she always did.
Love worked in mysterious ways.
((Connor Lorenzen continued in It Won't Be Like This For Long))