by Kevin Anderson

"He's gone crazy." Gina was a big fan of stating the obvious.
"Well he is driving an El Camino. That’s never been the trademark of sanity."

The man using his head as a percussion instrument suddenly stopped and sat up abruptly. Then he began speaking or possibly even yelling. We couldn't hear anything from where we were, but I do remember him looking as if he was an actor in a silent movie –- exaggerating every pronunciation of whatever it was he was saying.

"What do you think is wrong with him?" Gina said.

"I don't know or care. Maybe he has to pee.”
Gina turned back toward me. "Look, Craig, do you have something to say? Seriously, cause this dancing around crap is getting old."

My moment was gone and I felt my courage leave me like helium excepting a ruptured balloon. She was now the aggressor and I didn't feel very accusatory anymore no matter what Gina and Pitt were doing behind my back.

I sank a bit into my seat and reached into my shirt pocket. I removed a collectable Dumbo PEZ dispenser, one of the many toys we all collected. I quickly dispensed a grape candy and popped it into my mouth, then held the dispenser out to her.

"PEZ?"

It was the perfect peace offering. We had met in a PEZ chat-room, talking about all the finer points and irrelevancies of stem colors. Knowing Gina, she thought the gesture romantic.

The thin and tight lines bordering her mouth relaxed, opening back up into luscious pink lips. A silent moment passed as the rest of her features softened and her face started to resemble the girl I had fallen in love with. Just for a moment I was taken back and I wondered if I could fix this.

She took a candy and held it to her mouth then suddenly gestured to the dispenser. "Doesn't that belong to Pitt?"

"Yeah," I said taking a deep breath. "I took it off him when he fell asleep. I'm holding it hostage until he kicks in for gas. Tired of him freeloading."

I could tell she wanted to say something in Pitt's defense, but she hesitated, swallowing words as she pursed her lips.

That's when I knew. Pitt and her were together. And this was not fixable.

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" I said, not really sure if there was an answer I wanted to hear.

Her lower lip dropped, quivering a bit. I thought for a moment she might even produce a tear but then she suddenly looked out the back window. "What is he doing now?"

"Who?"

"That guy." She pointed over Pitt's sleeping head.

My gaze followed, once again finding the man in the El Camino. He was now slamming his head up against the driver's side window and still mouthing some unheard silver-screen dialogue.

"Jeez," I said. "Somebody get a net."

Gina shifted in her seat. "He really needs to switch to decaf." She started to laugh then abruptly looked down at her seatbelt. "Damn!"

"What?"

"This belt hates me. It unbuckles whenever it wants to and sticks when I want out." She tried clicking the buckle back together but it kept slipping apart.

"At our current speed I think you're pretty safe."

"Just help me," she said. "Why don't you get this damn thing fixed?"

I reached over, grabbing the buckle. "It's a bit tricky. You have to hold the button down and click it in before you release..."

Our hands touched and before she could catch herself, she pulled hers away. Her reaction felt like a knife turning in my gut.

Happy birthday to me.

I finished securing her belt then turned around and faced forward. With my hands on the dashboard I leaned into the steering wheel, gently resting my forehead on its rim. I wondered for a moment if Mr. El Camino had received any kind of satisfaction by slamming his head into the horn.

"I know you don't love me anymore," I said.

Gina let silence speak for her as she sat forward in her seat.

"But... do you even like me?" I felt her hand on my shoulder and I tensed up waiting for her to speak, but the next voice I heard was not Gina's. It was Pitt's.

"Do you guys know there is a guy back here slamming his head against his window?"

"Yes," Gina snapped.

"Well, why do you think he's doing that?" Pitt said.

"Why would anybody do that? Craig thinks he has to pee."

"Wow!" Pitt said.

Gina turned to look back. "What?"

"He just broke the window with his head," Pitt said.

This got my attention. I sat up and spun around.

The man in the El Camino was bleeding in rippling waves, from his forehead.

"Maybe someone should go see if he's all right," I said.

"Are you nuts!" Gina's eyes met mine.

"I didn't mean somebody us. I mean somebody else," I said much harsher than I intended.