The engine is screaming, the speedometer winding down while the tach redlines. The entire car shakes and vibrates, hitting limits, the wheel lurches. I’ve gone from cruising at high speed, shifting into lower gear to slow the drive without touching the brakes and she’s fighting every second of it until she finally slows and I take the corner easy. This is the closest analogy I have to the change. To how I have to slow myself down when I’m leaving them. Choke it down, brake the engine, and then let the whole thing adjust as it will to the change until it’s controlled again. I know they want me to talk, to be here. They want me to shine for them. I can’t. Everything in me is pushing me back, still going too fast, still running too hot. The weekend is still burning too brightly. *** “Is Jewel here? Is Jewel here?” He’s come to pick me up, and from the first second he walked in everything spun back into high gear. Touching, kissing, breathing him in. It’s never enough. Even wh...
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