Day Eight Part II

I posted these out of order.
After Panera on Friday night, I drove to see Santanna. For a long time, I just sat there in the dark, looking at her. She always looks so happy. So little, and sweet, and just.... everything good I remember about us. I sat in the darkness, and let the tears roll down. I thought I had been through with all the crying, but something about seeing her - up close and real - made my heart constrict and my eyes smart with tears. Levi, I miss you so much. Why don't you love me any more?
I didn't plan on getting out. I was just going to sit there and listen to the radio and just.... feel the closeness. But then I saw a white paper tucked under the windshield, fluttering limply in the night breeze. A note? For you? From whom? The curiosity burned. It was probably just a random flyer, but..... what if it was from her? What if it said Hey cutie look for me at work.....? Or....? Oh, the thoughts were viscous. I didn't go crazy. I sat there and brooded. Did it even matter? Based on our conversation at The West, you were now very territorial about your stuff even your trash, and you might get angry. I could picture you.... that is, the new you, the cold sinister angry one.... appearing in the darkness and yelling me at me while I bawl and bawl. I just want to know what's going on in your life, babe.
Well, finally curiosity got the better of me. I got out the car, and marched over. Cautiously, as I approached it. I wasn't sure of your schedule and I didn't want to chance running into you. As amazing as it would be.... the deliciousness my heart craved would be overshrouded by the hurt and bitterness of the rejection and anger and... coldness.
It was just a flyer. My heart hadn't been pounding, but I felt a deeper sense of calmness when I saw the stupid advertisement. Praise God. While I was so close, I peeked in. To my shock....
It was clean.
Bare.
Empty.
It even looked vaccuumed out, no trace of crumbs.
No trace of rumpled receipts.
No crumpled food bags.
No rotting crumbs.
Leaky drinks.
I didn't understand it. Why had you cleaned it? When? When did you get the time????? The last time it was clean.... we did it together, for Thanksgiving break, I think. It was always something that we did together. :'(((( Remember? Remember the water? The soap? The dollar store supplies? The music? The heat and thirst? The hot, sexy sweaty kisses? Sonic and the movies? Me rear-ending the old man's car? All the memories.....
I remember cleaning out Santanna for the first time, with Steven, back on campus. Steven threw a fit when I had him go sneak your car out of the guys dorm lot and bring it around behind the gym. "I'm wearing a Turkish suit!!!" But he was such a great sport and helped me dump the trash and wipe out the scum and brush the crumbs off the seats. You were sooooo surprised... and touched...
Who did you clean your car out for this time?
You lived with it a mess all the time. It didn't seem to faze you, so I had trouble believing that you would do it for yourself just because you got tired of the junk. But yet.... the puzzle had me going crazy. Clean, clean. If you got tired, you would have just emptied out the trash. But dang this car was vacuumed, wiped down, immaculate. I contemplated it.
Were the notes still there?
Panic gripped me like a vise. Had you been erasing every last trace of me?
It was hard to see through the glass, but I could see white notecards still on the visor. Relief flooded my being. Oh, praise God. You had done a thorough job, and yet left the notecards.
It gave me hope.
Pitiful, unhealthy hope... but hope.
I clung to it like a kitten drowning in a riptide stream.
He hasn't gotten rid of my gifts yet, my memory.
While I was looking at the driver's visor, I noticed the passengers.
..............it was down.
Down, as in currently. Someone had ridden with you and it was during the daytime when the sun was out, and they had pulled the visor down.
Who?
Was this the person that you had cleaned the car up for???
So many questions.
I finally broke down and...... don't hate me, babe. I got out the extra pair of keys. The ones that you always knew I had. In reality, they weren't mine. They were Kendon's, just in case. But I had asked for them back. SO when I said that you had my keys... I meant it.... but deep inside I knew it was still dishonest. But I couldn't let them go, I couldn't. It felt like giving up the last little grip of control I had. I just couldn't bear to be locked out of your life literally.
I sat inside and sniffered for perfume. Nothing. Just clean, cool scent of a clean car.
The keychain that I got your last Valentine's Day was still in the middle section, scratched and dirty as heck. Like all the other memories of me... tainted with your anger and hate.
In the back, I saw the book the Five Love Languages.
That really stopped me.
I figured it being in the back seat of your car meant you surely weren't reading it. But you hadn't ditched it. I found that interesting..... it made me hurt so bad, touching it, seeing that you had indeed ripped out my note and discarded it, along with the lyrics from Maroon 5. Maybe you kept the book to help you with your new girlfriend? I don't know. All I know is that it hurt and was confusing.
There was a laptop case behind your seat.
Your computer?
Someone else's?
Were you fixing it for someone?
I thought of my computer.... how we met... all those wonderful memories. My heart was cold, and my body was cold, and I was stressed out and shaking. There was only one receipt to look at, but I dared not take it.
Little Caesars on Rockwell, Monday the 11th at 21:44. A change from Taco Bell, I guess.
Leaving Santanna was like dying.
It was like a physical blow.
I left, and I ran back to my car, and turned the music and heat way up. Back in my own comfort zone.... the life you had exiled me to.... but not the life I wanted.
I drove home and cleaned for dorm day, but my heart wasn't in it.
My heart was still with Santanna in the cold, dark parking lot of Walmart, waiting for our Levi to come home to us safe and sound.