Across the Universe

iii.

They had been driving for maybe an hour, and Nixon was already losing her mind. He played no songs, spoke not a sentence, and frankly, she couldn't quite stand it. She didn't expect full-blown conversation and magical bonding, but she at least wanted music. She'd been driving by herself for the past 2 days and it had been louder.

"Can you speak?" she finally says, earning her a startled glance from Christopher. "I'm sorry but I cannot stand this silence. I'm actually going deaf."

Christopher smiles. "Yes, I can speak. I just thought you'd prefer that I shut up, seeing as though you keep looking for reasons for me to leave."

Nixon bites her lips and glances out the window. She sees the peaks and troughs of the Californian valley outside, the sunlight streaming through the window - it's a beautiful sight, and she wishes she had a phone or camera to capture it.

"I'm sorry," she finally says and she's surprised to hear that the words actually sound sincere.

He casts a glance at her through the rearview mirror, and she can't help but be captivated by his eyes. It had bothered her, the fact that she could be so trusting of a stranger, and she drew it all back to his eyes. She knows it sounds stupid and cliché, but with all the honesty she could muster, she realized that it was - is - his eyes. They're big, light brown and a little droopy, but there's an honesty that shines through it. There's kindness and truth and summertime that radiates through those beautiful eyes, and she can't help but let down her guard when she's around them. It hadn't been obvious at first, but it was when she stared right into them as she pointed the (toy) gun at him that she had pinpointed what it is about him. And as she looks at them now, she feels the same vulnerability, the same desire to drop the facade and just be her. To tell him anything and he would understand. But she knows that beyond the jaded and cynical exterior lies a hopeless romantic, and she can't let that version of her get the best of her and make her weak when everything in the world depends on her being strong.

"What for?" he asks, but there's a small smile on his face and she knows he just wants her to say it.

"For being a bitch at iHop," she says with a laugh. "For pointing a gun at you. For thinking the worst of you." She breaks away from his stare, because it's so disarming, and stares back at the valley. "I don't want to, you know," she confesses in a small voice. "I just have to. I've made the mistake of trusting before and I've heard the stories and all the Ted Bundies and Zodiac Killers out there and...I just don't want to be another Jane Doe. Another statistic."

She feels heat rise at how much she's shared and she opens her mouth, about to apologize, he says, "I'll identify you. And look for you."

She casts him a confused glance and he smiles. It's disarming in a different way. Not like Luke or those other classically handsome assholes - in a boyish, trusting way. "I mean," he clarifies, "if you ever get Ted Bundied, or something, I'll look for you. You won't be a Jane Doe."

"I'll be a face in the newspaper."

He laughs. "Yeah. On the Missing Persons segment."

"Oh, thank god. Thank you, Christopher. I'm completely reassured."

"Oh man," he says with a wince. "Call me Chris."

She adjusts her body, so that she's facing him. "But that feels so monosyllabic. Christopher rolls off the tongue. Nice and clean."

"It's what my mother calls me when I've done something wrong."

"Very professional and crisp. Christopher."

"Please, stop."

"Christopher."

"I'm going to play Queen to drown you out."

"You'd prefer me singing Bohemian Rhapsody to me saying Christopher?"

He pauses, contemplates and says, "I can't believe I'm actually saying this but I think Christopher might actually be the lesser evil."

Nixon laughs and punches him on the shoulder, before leaning back and resting her head against the window. "Chris," she tries. "I could get behind that."

🍃

In the next two hours, she's sung maybe 4 Queen songs and learnt that Christopher Mckinney has two step-siblings, Jewish ancestry, myopia and is majoring in International Relations at NYU.

"That's so fancy," she says. "You could totally get your own show, like Christian Amanpour." Nixon holds up her hands and says, drawing a rainbow, "Christopher Mckinney. Or just Mckinney."

"That sounds terrible."

"You're right. I'd never watch it."

Christopher scoffs. "It'd be an amazing show. I have so many cool quips and fun facts."

Nixon snorts. "Cool quips. Fun facts. You sound like my 5th grade Science teacher trying to get with the times."

He looks at her, feigning hurt. "I am so freakin' cool. Okay." He pauses and adds in, as if an afterthought, "Sis."

At that, Nixon nearly collapses in laughter, and soon Chris join in. She'd never met someone so awkward in her life. Even Kevin, who had the same vibe, hadn't been such a gangly, awkward Jewish boy stereotype.

"Okay," he says. "If you're so cool, tell me something about yourself."

"I'm supremely uninteresting."

"Says the teenage runaway heading to South Dakota, who says vague sentences and points a gun at me."

"I pointed a gun at you," she corrects, before biting her lip and thinking. She looks at him, contemplating giving a totally BS answer and rolling with it - but she's grateful for the truth he gave, and honestly, she's tired of lying. "Well, I lived in Oakland for around 2-3 years - and not the bougie side, mind you. But before that, I actually did live in South San Francisco. Born and raised there, actually."

"Why'd you move?"

She licks her lips. "My dad was in a car accident. He died, and we were swallowed in debt and so my mom packed up our lives and drove us off to Oakland."

He looks at her, reaching out and squeezing her hand. "God, I'm sorry." He pauses a moment, then adds, "My dad bailed on us when I was really young. Or rather, my mom took me and left him, because he was a piece of shit. To her, not to me. My stepdad's a shithead too, but only to me. He's good to her, so I put up with his dickhead moves."

Nixon casts him a wry smile. "Look at us, two fucked-up, dad-less losers headed to South Dakota, of all places."

"I have one condition."

"What?"

"I've a little detour in mind."

Nixon narrows her eyes. "Spit it out, Mckinney."

Christopher glances at her, the sun reflecting off of his glasses. "Have you been to L.A.?"