Diverging Roads

"I can't believe you took the train here," I say, leading Brad through the dense foliage to my car.

"Library stop," says Brad, "right before Government Center. Everyone usually sleeps through it."

I check around the wheels to my car before I get in. Opossom is gone.

Max settles between us as Brad directs me back to the city. I'm actually glad to be with someone who knows where he's going.

Brad finds my stash of alligator bars in the glove compartment, tosses me one. "Crunchy outside, swampy inside," he says.

"Thanks," I say. "For getting us out of there." Max sniffs.

"No prob," Brad says, "I wasn't about to let a famous playwright burn to death in a library. That'd be...ironically messed up. Besides, I told your brother I'd look after you."

"Keith? When did you see him?"

"Ran into him at Cafe Mauricio's, a few weeks before you moved back. He was telling me all about his sister, the poor city bird, unable to survive on her own in the wilds of Miami."

"Please, my brother still has mom iron his boxers."

"So this was just...brotherly humor? Nothing more?"

"No...I...He thinks if you drive a Camry you're D-list. It's all about attitude. And not caring. I highly recommend the not caring. Plus, it's not like I'm in the tabs." Brad smiles uncomfortably. "Sorry, I didn't--"

"No, no, it's refreshing. Really. This not having to care." Brad runs his finger across the dust on his side window.

"So which way now?" I ask, quietly, as we approach a four-way stop.

"Left," says Brad, "or right. It doesn't matter."

We drive on in silence.