“Yeah, I was,” I say, thinking wistfully back to my life before Blake arrived.
“And so I bet myself that I could ruin it for you.”
If I’m not going to hit him, I feel like the only proper reaction to this is to stare at him, slack-jawed, for about three hours.
Instead I ask, “What were the stakes?”
“No ice cream for a year.”
“Seriously?”
“Starting when I got back home, of course. I’d need ice cream to make it through those three months at your place.”
“What did you get if you won?”
“Nothing,” says Blake. “I wouldn’t reward myself for ruining somebody’s life. That would be wrong.”
I punch him.
Yes, it’s a low move to punch somebody in the middle of a truce, but there were extenuating circumstances. Dude ruined my life, and he didn’t even do it for extra ice cream.
It’s the best punch of the fight so far. Perfect placement to the jaw, superb follow-through with my fist, and it doesn’t even hurt my hand all that much, although that could be the result of my sheer blinding rage.
As the guy in the cowboy hat pointed out, the side of the highway is not an ideal place to be fighting. Much can go wrong. Let’s look at the following example, in which a sixteen-year-old kid punches his cousin in the face. The cousin, rather than falling to the ground in a heap, stumbles backward in a daze.
Under normal circumstances, the act of stumbling backward in a daze immediately after receiving a punch to the face is not such a big deal. Sure, the subject could trip and injure his or her tailbone or accidentally bump into a table and knock over somebody’s cup of coffee, but it’s not typically life-threatening.
The problem with the stumbling occurring in this particular location is that there’s a road right there. And this isn’t some tiny dirt road where horse-drawn carriages are on their way to purchase supplies for the long winter. This is a road with lots of fast cars.
So when I punched Blake and he stumbled, a car was headed right for him. I won’t deny that I felt a strong sense of regret about throwing that particular punch, which will stay with me for the rest of my ruined life.
28.
No, I don't just stand there and let Blake get run over by a car! I don’t even consider doing that! Jeez! What kind of person do you think I am?
It’s not like a semi is barreling down upon him. It is, in fact, a very tiny, economically priced, two-door sedan that I’m sure gets excellent gas mileage. Still, it’s going seventy miles per hour, and there’s little question that it will splatter Blake on impact.
There’s no time to grab him by the arm and pull him back to safety. If I miss his arm, he’s doomed. My only choice is to dive at him and knock him out of the way. I might die. If I do, I apologize for the abrupt ending of—
29.
Sorry. Didn't mean to end that last chapter so soon. I was distracted by the car.
I dive at Blake and push him out of harm’s way. We both fall onto the shoulder of the road.
The driver of the tiny car blares his horn as he zips past us.
I stand and help Blake to his feet.
His eyes are wide. “You…you saved my life.”
“You would have done the same thing,” I say.
Blake shakes his head. “Nope.”
Another horn honks. I glance to my right in time to see a semitruck barreling down the highway.
Blake dives at me, pushing us out of harm’s way. We both tumble onto the grass by the side of the highway.
“Okay, maybe I would have,” says Blake. “That’s surprising.”
We both lie there for a minute, catching our breath and trying to recover from the shock.
“You saved my life,” says Blake. “You endangered it, and then you saved it. How can we be enemies when we’re willing to sacrifice ourselves for each other?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “It seems stupid.”
“This is a bond we can’t break. We’ll always have this moment.”
“I’m sorry I kidnapped you,” I say.
“I’m sorry I ruined your life.”
“I appreciate your apology.”
“What if I try to repair the damage I’ve done?”
“That would be cool.”
“I’ve been a terrible cousin. But I think we should start from scratch. I understand why you were happy. And I’d like to be happy like that too.”
“Really?”
Could this be the start of an actual friendship? I’m going to say no, probably not, but maybe it’s the beginning of an era when Blake and I can cohabitate. I’m certainly willing to try to make things better.
We get to our feet again.
“Your car’s on fire,” says Blake.
“I see that.” I sigh. “You know, it really was a terrible car.”
“It was all right. It got us this far.”
“Are you trying to write song lyrics?” I ask with a smile.
“What?”
“Song lyrics.”
“Huh?”
“What you said rhymed with what I said. Car and far rhyme.”
“Oh. No, I wasn’t trying to write song lyrics.”
“I didn’t actually think you were. I was making a joke.”
“Hmm.”
I give him a playful punch on the shoulder. He gives me a playful punch back. I think the punches hurt both of us, but we don’t want to say anything.
It may sound weird, but I truly believe that Blake and I are going to be fine from now on. Am I glad he came into my life? Not particularly. Have we gained a new respect for each other? I dunno. Maybe if you really stretch the definition of respect. But when we were about to get splattered on the highway, we both risked our lives for each other, and that means something.
The next two and a half months aren’t going to be so bad.
I take out my cell phone. I
