A Stroll with Mr. Dollard

The convertible soars through pine trees and their shadows, gently rocking me as the engine hums a lullaby. I trace the floral pattern of my skirt with a pearl nail, admiring the stone on my ring finger. It emanates rainbow beams, reflecting the rays of sunlight that are penetrating the forest. I imagine a nursery with a rainbow mobile spinning above a crib. The car suddenly zips around a curve and the force knocks my head against the passenger window. Baxter Road is narrowing and the dark pines surrounding us begin to suffocate. They pass by too quickly, as if they were only pages of a flip book. My head floats, wobbly on my neck. My eyelashes feel heavy and begin to smear my vision. The inner lining of my stomach inches up my esophagus.

"Sweetheart?" I purr. He does not respond. "Can we slow down just a bit? I'm feeling dizzy."

"We're already late. I told you we didn't have time to stop at the bank."

A sigh escapes between my bubble gum pink lips. He is right. I should not have made him stop. "I'm sorry."

"Look, I just don't want to give Mr. Dollard any reason to make things difficult for us. He doesn't have to sign the easement, you know? He might ask for money. He might not sign. If he doesn't, well..."

I lean toward him and lay a tulip petal on his Burberry cheek with my lips. He places his hand on the back of my neck and rubs the soft skin behind my earlobes with his thumb, his touch turning my blood streams into wind chimes. We flip around another bend and suddenly we are under an iridescent blue sky. I see the tiny town in the distance. I had not known until today that Baxter Road led anywhere. No one seemed to know about it.