“I’m getting too tired to drive,” Liam says gruffly. “My eyes are closing. I’m sorry.”
“No worries,” I tell him. “I know you weren’t planning on doing this tonight. Sorry for roping you into it.”
“I decided to give you a ride because I wanted to. You should be at your sister’s wedding,” Liam says. His voice is laced with sleepiness as he turns to his friend. “Hey, Owen? Can you take over, man? I’m seriously fading fast here. Getting tunnel vision, and everything.”
His question is answered by a loud snore.
“Dammit,” Liam mutters.
“I wish I could take over,” I say in disappointment. “I’m wide awake.”
“Do you mind if I stop at a motel, Helen?”
I am a little annoyed that Liam won’t even attempt to call me by the name I prefer. “I think I made an error in judgment,” I inform him.
“What do you mean?” he asks,
“From the sound of your voices, I would have guessed that you guys were no older than your early thirties...”
“We’re actually both in our late twenties,” Liam tells me. “I’m 28, and he’s 29.”
“But you get tired fast,” I tease, “like old men.”
Liam laughs lightly. “I know we seem childish and carefree,” he says, “but we actually do have crazy hours. It’s Friday night, so you can bet that we both haven’t had a full night’s sleep all week.” He yawns loudly. “Okay, I can’t even make it to a motel. I saw a sign for a rest stop a few miles back, and I’ll pull over as soon as I see it. I think Owen has blankets in the trunk.”
“A rest stop?” I ask nervously. “Is that safe?”
“It’s safer than crashing and dying.”
I ponder this for a moment, but as I’m worrying, I feel myself beginning to yawn. I must be getting old, too, for I could also use a nap. When Liam pulls over and parks the car, I am already dozing off. I hear the car door open and close as he moves to the trunk to gather blankets. He opens the door nearest to me and drapes a blanket over my legs.
“Feel free to lie down and get comfortable,” he tells me.
“Would it be better for you to come and rest in the backseat?” I offer quietly.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says. “I’ll be fine in the front.” He shuts the door and moves back around the car to the driver’s side. Once he gets into the car, he locks the doors and turns the heat up. “Wow, Owen is completely out,” he observes as he tugs a blanket over his friend. “He doesn’t seem to mind sleeping like this. I think I’m tired enough not to care.”
I unbuckle my seatbelt and stretch my legs out on the seat. My feet collide with my backpack, and I reach out to lift it and place it on the ground to give myself more room. I begin to feel slightly guilty that I have so much space while the men are cramped in the front of the car. I assume that they are both much taller than me, and they must be very uncomfortable. I arrange the blanket over my legs, looking awkwardly in the direction of the tired doctors.
“Liam,” I whisper, trying not to disturb Owen.
“I wish you could see this,” he responds.
I hesitate. “See what?”
“The stars. We’re still out in the country, so the light pollution from the cities isn’t hiding them from view quite as much as I’m used to. They’re just blanketing the entire sky, like snowflakes on asphalt. There’s also a little sliver of moon; not big or bright enough to distract from the stars.”
“What does it look like?” I ask him softly.
“The moon?” He pauses thoughtfully. “It’s like... God’s fingernail clipping.”
This causes laughter to bubble up in my throat. I touch one of my fingernails to refresh my concept of the shape. I trace the gentle curvature and imagine the moon. “Thanks,” I tell him softly, pulling the blanket snug around my neck. “I can see it clearly.”
“Good. I’m going to turn off the car now,” he tells me. “I am worried that it could be bad for the car, or bad for us if I leave it running. If you get too cold, let me know.”
Nodding, I try to get comfortable. My legs are feeling a little frozen, so I bring them closer to my body. I wrap my arms around my middle, hugging myself. Listening carefully, between the sounds of Owen’s snoring, I hear Liam’s teeth chattering. I suddenly feel awful for making him do this. I consider inviting him into the back seat again, and maybe moving close to him so that we can both keep warm. The idea makes me a bit nervous, but it’s the least I can do since I got us into this mess. As my shoulders begin to tremble violently, I acknowledge that having some body heat near to mine does not sound so terrible at the moment.
“Liam,” I whisper again. “Are you sure you don’t want to...” Halfway through my sentence, I realize he is asleep. I can hear the change in his breathing. I am saved from needing to ask an embarrassing question, and potentially getting into an even more embarrassing situation. As I drift off to sleep, I imagine countless snowflakes scattered over asphalt. It’s an enchanting image, and I might use it in a book someday. I can also picture the glowing fingernail of God, scratching the sky fondly, the way one might caress a sleeping pet.
Chapter Seven