Katya’s eyes were trained on the road, guiding us to wherever it was we were going. I felt slightly uneasy being taken out to an anonymous place, though Katya’s presence served to assuage me somewhat. The main source of tension milling within came from the fact I was inside a car. It had been ages, longer than I could remember, since I’d allowed myself to be carried along by a moving vehicle. I just hated them. Nothing about driving seemed safe to me. People were so blasé about it, treating their licenses as a right rather than a responsibility. The idea of careless drivers in charge of big, quick-moving hunks of metal worried me infinitely, and I’d resolved not to entrust my life to these people unless it was absolutely necessary, until now. I wondered why I had been so simply persuaded by this girl. I wondered, aside from the superficial aspects, what it was about Katya that I found so attractive, and as I let my mind tinker freely with these thoughts, a possible answer came to me: it was her who had instigated our… whatever it was that we had. I figured, since this was only the second time that a girl had taken the initial interest in me, that was what I found so exciting and wonderful. That was why I was allowing her to guide me wherever she wanted.

Neil Young’s Harvest provided the soundtrack to our journey, his soothing voice and simple notes filtering weightlessly throughout the car like a calming breeze. This had been one of my mother’s favourite albums of all time, so I knew it well and appreciated that Katya too enjoyed it. It helped to dispel any unnerving thoughts that may have tried to pervade as this expedition unfolded.

Among the worries about driving and ignorance as to where we were headed was the nagging incredulity regarding the piece of machinery I was in. A Mercedes-Benz for Christ’s sake! I tried to register an idea as to how this could have come to be, but nothing stuck. Katya must have seen the bafflement in my eyes, because after a while, she began to explain.

“It was a gift.” She said simply and I was instantly thankful that I hadn’t had to ask.

“Pretty elaborate gift.” I responded, hoping for further clarification.

“It was from my Dad for my Eighteenth.” She spoke frankly, I sighed inwardly and eyed out the window.

“Oh.” I didn’t know what else to say. I felt like a fucking prick for unwittingly bringing him up again and didn’t know whether Katya would prefer me to change the topic or ask hard questions. I knew which option I preferred, though the main objective I was trying to achieve was to impress the girl, so I had to show her that I could be mature and not easily deterred from serious conversation. “So, do you think it was a gift of love or a gift of guilt?” was the first thing that came from my mouth. I almost winced after saying it, unsure if the inquiry was too probing. Katya took a few moments to answer.

“Guilt. Definitely. We didn’t speak for years and then he just came back and… I don’t know. I guess he was trying to buy back some love or respect or whatever. He’s loaded and he thinks money will fix everything.”

I was drawn by her words, finding myself completely fascinated and intrigued and wanting to know more about her.

“But it won’t.” I replied, half asking, half saying. Again Katya took a few seconds to respond.

“As far as I’m concerned nothing can fix what he did.” A long, lingering silence followed, louder than the words that preceded it. Neil Young still sung but neither of us listened. We were momentarily locked in our own heads.

“What was it that he did?” The question was in the air before I’d decided whether it was a good idea to ask or not, my instincts taking over quickly to cease my mind’s unyielding banter.

“I’d rather not talk about this right now.” She said with finality and I surmised that the topic was done for the moment. From there on she just drove as I watched the world pass me by out the window, Neil Young’s constant voice providing a distraction and an excuse for the silence between us.

As the car put kilometres between itself and the city, I noticed the moon ahead, large and bright. My eyes stayed on it for a while and as time went by, it became obvious to me that Katya was just following the moon, driving us away into outer-space. These thoughts comforted me until we stopped, still, perched atop a hill staring out at the dark, star-spangled sky. It was pretty, but when I looked downward the prettiness turned to beauty. Below us, at the bottom of the hill was a lake, glistening in the night, reflecting the moon’s light.

“Come out and sit with me.” Katya said softly before unbuckling her seatbelt and exiting the car. I slowly followed suit whilst watching her take up residence on the vehicle’s hood. Within moments, I was beside her, both of us sitting cross-legged. The serene scene settled before me as Katya asked “Do you smoke?”

The question seemed way out of left-field but when I saw the joint in Katya’s left hand it made sense.

“Yeah.” I answered simply. Last year I’d started smoking pot every now and then with my mother, usually when she was stressed and wanted to talk to me about something. Katya lit the joint and took a few tokes before passing it to me.

“What do you think of me, Owen?”

We were both staring forward through the windless air. Katya’s words swirled in my brain like the smoke in my lungs. As my senses eased, my mind tightened. How am I supposed to answer a question like that? I thought. Options scattered wildly in different directions. Honesty, flattery, playing my feelings down; each seemed a viable selection yet each posed a threat to my chances. If I was honest, I’d be putting myself entirely on the line at a really early stage of our friendship. She almost certainly wouldn’t feel the way I felt, and I’d be rejected straight away. If I flattered her, I might come off sounding like a bad romance movie and the rejection stigma would still be in play. The best option seemed to be to lie and tell her she was “cool” or something plutonic like that. It appeared the safest way to avoid having my hopes dashed. Though, what if she wanted me to flatter her? What if she did feel what I felt?

Rhetorical questions are like deaf attackers sent to puzzle and destroy any lucidity your mind may ever find. I tried to fight them off, to mirror their deafness and shut them out of my head, but it didn’t work. When I opened my mouth to answer, I don’t think I even knew what I was going to say.

“I really dig you.” I started, honesty having apparently won out. “You’ve got a great voice, you like the same music I like, you love art, you’re good at talking to me…” My eyes remained fixed frontward as I listed her qualities, perhaps to avoid a sudden attack of shyness that might manifest if I were to see her. However, when I went to let her fingers take the joint, I saw her face for a second and the broad smile she was wearing took all possible timidity away. I felt an unbelievable warmness of pride in my heart at the fact that I could bring about such a beautiful grin. Everything seemed to be going right, so I finally added: “and you’re pretty nice to look at as well.”

It felt good to be honest, especially as I was of the opinion that she would reciprocate my feelings.

“That’s really sweet.” She replied, furthering my delight. “I just wanted to know because I’m going to do something now that might change those thoughts, and I just wanted to know what they were before I took that risk.” Her hand reached over to mine, to pass the joint, I thought. When I went to accept it, her free fingers wrapped gently around mine. I gazed down at the lake and we stayed like that for what could have been hours but felt like seconds before Katya leant over and placed a kiss on the edge of my lips. A sensation ran through me as I finally let my eyes take her in. With that gesture, she’d grown more attractive in my mind’s eye.

“Was that it?” I asked, fairly certain that it was and glad that such a minute touch in the grand scheme of things was of the same magnitude to her as it was to me. Then she answered.

“No.” Katya let her legs unfold themselves before sliding off the car. “It comes next. You’ve got to get off, though.” I was nervous, curious as to what lay ahead. Despite these nerves, I obliged. She directed me to the passenger side of the car and then handed me her guitar, then her amp from the back. She then went through the glove box and tape deck quickly, taking everything of worth out of the vehicle. By the time she was done, all of her stuff was laying on the grass beside me. I stood bewildered as she eyed me for a moment. Her words filled the space between us. “I hope you don’t think I’m crazy for doing this.” And then she leant inside her car, through the driver side door and pulled the handbrake. The vehicle had begun to take motion before I even registered what was happening. Katya and I came together at the top of the hill, standing side by side, watching as the Mercedes-Benz let the slope take it away.

We watched as it careened downhill.

We watched as it hit the water.

We watched as it sank slowly, falling to the bottom of the lake leaving Katya and I alone, watching the sea calm itself until it eventually looked as if nothing had ever transpired. I was speechless of her actions, unable to properly think. I turned to Katya and saw that her eyes were on mine, imploring, searching for some kind of signal that she hadn’t just killed all of the qualities that made her so attractive to me. I didn’t know what to say to her. After witnessing what I’d just witnessed, words didn’t seem enough. I dropped the joint from my hand and stepped softly on it, nullifying its flame.

When I kissed Katya she tasted like smoke but it felt good to inhale.