This isn't weird.

Buggin' Out

"You're late."

Tess slid into the passenger seat, punctuating the reprimand by slamming the door far harder than could be mistaken for careless. It had been twenty-six minutes since she'd stomped out of his apartment, and Ben knew very well that she was going to make him suffer for those six extra minutes for the duration of their journey.

You're a cunt, Ben replied in his head, but restrained himself from voicing the words. The last time he'd spoken to a woman like that, his punishment from the universe had been swift and severe, ultimately leading him here to this miserable moment. Sorry, Cassie, he thought with a guilty twinge, before pushing the memory as far back into his mind as it could possibly go. He picked up his thermos, filled with the tepid coffee he'd brewed the night before, and took a sip. It was stale and acrid, but overall, not that much worse to his taste buds than fresh coffee, and since he was resigned to feeling sick and anxious for the next few days anyway, it seemed unlikely that it could make his nerves feel any worse. He'd need the energy. He wanted to get as many miles behind them as physically possible before they had to stop for the night, and there was no chance in hell he was going to let Tess behind the wheel of his car.

"Well?" he asked.

"I-84," she replied gruffly, and they headed toward the interstate in dead silence. After thirty minutes of this wordless, purgatorial tension, she finally spoke. "Mind if I put on a podcast?"

Ben was surprised that she even asked his permission, though he suspected his answer would have no bearing on her choice to proceed. "Sure."

He regretted his answer at once. Tess plugged her phone into the aux cable, and within a few minutes, a woman with a soothing, dulcet voice was filling his head with the true story of some grisly midwestern murder spree. Too proud to admit his discomfort, he endured thirty long minutes of graphically detailed death and dismemberment in the worst possible order, until his breaking point was finally reached, and he abruptly ripped the cable out from the stereo and whirled to look at Tess. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" he exclaimed.

She stared back at him with an innocently deadpan expression that she had most definitely picked up from Indigo. "It's educational," she said impassively.

"You're fucked up. You are fucked up," Ben muttered. "Put in some fucking earbuds."

Tess shrugged and obliged him with only the faintest hint of a smirk. Shuddering, he turned on the radio, hoping that a bit of mindless background noise would cleanse the disturbing images from his head. It worked, more or less; there was too much on his mind for some cannibal in Kansas to take up much space. He was replaying memories in his head, the best and worst moments of his time with Millie, contemplating the things he could have done differently, the things that might have been. Trying to imagine how it would go if and when he caught up to her. Would she be touched by the lengths he'd gone to be with her? Furious that he'd disrespected her choice to go off alone, and worse, brought Tess along with him? Did she regret their conversation, realize that she still hated him for the unforgivable things he had done and said to her?

The day was sunny and mild, the heatwave having finally broken, traffic was smooth, and they were soon passing by a long stretch of scenic landscapes. With Tess absorbed in her podcast and the radio playing a pleasantly upbeat rotation of songs, his mood was beginning to lighten. He settled into daydream about the best case scenario, Millie falling into his arms, delirious with joy to be reunited, listening with an open mind as he explained the medical history that had triggered his terrible behavior, fully understanding, fully forgiving, fully nude in a motel room a few short hours later...