Dan woke with a shudder. He'd been having weird dreams for the past three days. Dreams where he was flying. It wasn't him that was flying though; a plane was technically doing the flying. One of those personal aircraft deals. He would fly through clear skies over a lake and some mountains with deciduous trees growing all over. Being so high in the sky, so close to the sun made him feel warm inside and out. That warmth and happiness would not last long. Soon he would realize he was not alone - he would suddenly realize he was flying a large passenger jet. This time, just like all the others, a stewardess came into the otherwise-empty cockpit, and handed him a cup of coffee. The coffee was scalding and the steam swirled oddly in the recirculated air. He heard the door to the cockpit close, but beyond that, his attention was directed solely towards his coffee. The grey wisps rose and formed the shape of a cigarette, a Jeep, and then a plane's propeller. He had been so distracted by the images that he had not been paying attention to his duty, and he realized that the plane was taking a nosedive. He felt lightheaded. All those people he was supposed to be responsible for, businessmen, teachers, children, that stewardess with the nice tits - they'd all be dead because of him.

Just as the plane was about to be swallowed by the sea - that was when he always woke up.

He felt the body next to him stirring. Shit, he thought, I woke Laura. Laura had picked up a second job to supplement her current secretary gig. She was always stressed and snippy when she got home at 11 each night. She lifted her head slightly and she let it drop back down, accented with a sigh.

"Dan," she muttered into her pillow, "I have to be up three hours. I've been exhausted for the past month."

He rolled onto his side, facing the window with his back to her. He had plunked his cheek into a puddle of drool. "Sorry," he whispered. He readjusted the pillow and tried to fall asleep.

The next morning was just like every other morning. Lukewarm shower, store brand sugar cereal with milk that smelled a bit off. Empty orange juice container left in the fridge; every morning he shook it, heard a couple of drops move around and put it back on the shelf in frustration. He poured the coffee Laura had made for him down the drain. It had probably been sitting for over an hour anyway.

Statistics class was at 9. The textbook had been $150, used. He felt uncomfortable being the oldest guy in the lecture hall by at least six years.

The professor was using PowerPoint. Dan couldn't focus - the slide was just a bunch of symbols. It may as well have been blank. He wondered if this was why he put off higher education for ten years. The last thing his mind had processed was his professor saying the class was not allowed to use their TI83s on the midterm. What a waste of $90. He couldn't help but feel guilty that Laura worked all day to support them while he worked part time and tried to get his bachelor's even though he couldn't concentrate enough to take notes in stats.

After class, he went outside, sat on the hood of his Jeep and lit an unfiltered Lucky Strike. Laura didn't like him smoking. Not because it was bad for him, but because they were $5 a pack. That was more than half an hour's worth of work, she'd said. It wasn't that he wanted to defy his girlfriend, but he needed something to calm himself down. He would have these fits where he'd sweat and tremble and think he was going to die. Going outside for a smoke seemed to prevent the spells. He'd been getting them since the doctor's visit about one year ago when he wanted to know why he was suddenly covered in bruises and tired all the time. Laura had sworn up and down that she didn't kick in her sleep.

He was able to justify the cigarette smell because he spent a good portion of his day with college kids. He never smoked in his Jeep; he hadn't before, when he actually had the money to smoke. He referred to his Jeep as his pride and joy. When you live in a small town, there's only one road in and out. Here, it was Route 36. There was nothing he loved more than driving down the empty highway and shifting into fifth.


That night, when he got home from work at the video store, Laura was there; she was cutting up vegetables for soup. Stock was simmering on the stove. She wasn't supposed to be home for another hour, at least.

"Hey babe," she said, not looking up from the counter.

"Hi doll." He took his jacket off, making sure the breast pocket stayed closed over the pack of Luckies. "You're home early."

"Yeah." Her voice dropped. "I got laid off at the bookstore."

"Oh, hun..."

"It's okay. I've saved up a bit of money for emergencies. It'll give me time to find a new job." Dan knew he had some strange look on his face, because Laura's calmly assertive face fell a bit. "Don't worry about it. Besides, this'll give us more time together." She put the knife down on the counter and sauntered over to him and gave him a soft, sweet kiss on his cheek.

He grinned. They hadn't fucked for three weeks. She had always gone to bed while he was trying to get his homework done. He leaned down and scooped her up in his arms. She giggled and planted kiss after kiss on his neck as he marched to the bedroom. He threw her onto the bed. She was still laughing.

"Relax," he said, using his index and middle fingers to close her eyelids while she bit her lip to hold back the giggles. He knelt down and kissed her collarbone. He ran the pads of his fingers down her neck, over her shoulders and down her arms. He'd forgotten how soft her skin was. He watched her chest rise and fall with each deep breath she took, eventually reaching out and tracing a line down her sternum, between her breasts, stopping just at her navel. Dan smirked and laughed to himself; I'm such a tease. He leaned down to kiss her lips, but she did not kiss back. She'd fallen asleep.

Dan went outside to have a quick smoke. He thought about how there was something seriously missing between carrying his giggling girlfriend to the bedroom and this cigarette. There was a roar overhead, and he looked up to see the flashing lights of a Columbia 300. He ground the butt into the sidewalk with his sneaker and went back up to the apartment.

The next two hours were spent watching a shitty family comedy and eating an equally shitty TV dinner (the corn was dry but the turkey was still partially frozen) when Laura came out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes.

"I'm sorry, babe. How long was I out for?"

"Just a couple of hours."

"God, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I've just been so stressed and..."

"Shh.." He rose gave her a kiss. "Don't worry about it. I put the soup in the fridge. Let's just go to bed." He took her and led her to the bedroom. He was too tired and too happy lying next to her to have another cigarette.

That night there was a fourth dream. This time, the stewardess asked if he wanted cream or sugar, and he told her he took his coffee black. He took the cup with his right hand and she left him alone in the cockpit. The steam swirled around his hand like it was trying to grip his wrist. His surprise and the heat of the cup were enough for him to drop it. Coffee was everywhere; in his lap, on the floor, on the panel. It seemed like it was running down the walls too. He leaned over, trying to dry the instruments with the red tie he was wearing, but he couldn't reach them. Maybe the tie was way too short. His vision went spotty and he felt his hands tingling. The plane dove downward towards the ocean.

He crawled out of bed, and pulled on his pants and a T-shirt. He snatched up his coat and went downstairs to smoke a Lucky.


Laura wasn't there in the morning, as usual, so he went about his usual routine. There was fresh milk and more orange juice in the fridge. She must've gone grocery shopping with her new free time. The pot of coffee sat on the counter. He unplugged the machine and ate his cereal at the kitchen table.

He drove to school in his red Jeep. It wasn't a far ride, but it was necessary for him to calm his nerves before class started. He hated the university, but he felt safe inside the Jeep. He'd had it since he was 24. Even before he met Laura in the waiting room of the temp agency two years ago. They had gone out for lunch that afternoon. He had driven. They ate cheap pizza and she talked about how she didn't expect to have such a hard time getting a job just out of college. He told her he'd been saving up for flight school. He'd wanted to be a pilot since he was five. "I'm tired of floating from job to job," he's said. Work was shitty when you only had a high school diploma. "I want to do what I want, like all those other lucky people."

He showed up late for stats; it wasn't uncommon. The TA pressed a short stack of paper into his hand as he came in the door. The midterm. He cursed his shitty attention span. He knew he wasn't cut out for college, and he didn't care about business at all.

He found a seat and looked at the first page of the exam. The characters moved around on the page. Okay Dan, he told himself. You've bullshitted your way through worse situations before. This is no different. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but his mind was blank. At the end of the two hours, he turned in an exam that was blank except for his name and a sketch of a Zivko Edge 540. He skipped his other classes and went for a drive, stopping only to smoke a cigarette here and there. He was an hour late to work.

He returned home around 7. Laura was roasting a chicken. The apartment was warm and smelled of garlic and rosemary. She skipped up to him. "How was your day, darling?" she sang.

"It was fine," he said, tugging at his coat. "I'm just tired is all. Long day." He hung the coat in the small closet in the equally small hall, then sat down at the kitchen table to pick through the day's mail.

"Aren't you going to ask how my day was?" She pulled off her apron and tapped her foot. Her cheeks were rosy from the heat of the oven and hair was falling out of her sloppy ponytail. She really was beautiful, even in the grey sweatpants she was wearing. It was hard for him to be upset when she was in the room.

Suddenly animated, Dan leapt from his chair and knelt at her feet. "I'm sorry, dearest." He grabbed her hand and kissed it for effect. "How was your day?"

She laughed and kicked playfully at him. "Well, I applied at the drugstore, the tailor's. I even drove to the mall. Someone had better call me back; I don't want that gallon of gas I used up to be a waste. Half of the places in town won't even hire me for the night shift, 'cause I'm a woman." She shook her head. "Y'know, I don't even think that's even legal."

He pulled her down to the floor with him. She sat cross-legged and slouched over. "Darling, I'm sure anyone would love to have you. Anyone that doesn't call back is missing out on a very good thing." He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand.

"I guess I don't have to worry about money for awhile." Cue eye contact. "We don't have to worry about anything as long as we're together." She squeezed his hand back. "Besides, we'll never have to worry about money ever again in a little while. Isn't that right, Mr. CEO-in-Training?"

"Sure. Listen, do you need any help with dinner? Because I want to step out for some air."


The next few days consisted of more dreams, more half-full pots of coffee poured down the sink and long drives in the Jeep instead of class. That weekend, Dan and Laura went to the next town over to find a second job for her. Sunday evening, they retired to the apartment. Dan read the Sunday paper at the kitchen table, and Laura pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. He looked up.

"Hun," she started, "money is getting kind of tight. If I can't get a job soon, we're going to have to think of some other way to make money. It's two weeks to the end of the month and I'm kind of afraid we might be a little short on rent."

"I'll pick up more shifts at Video Paradise."

"That would be a good start. But I really think we'll need something a bit more substantial."

"Please don't tell me you're going to call your parents." Laura's parents were well off. Unfortunately, they were also total assholes; she would never accept their charity. Not that they would be willing to give it anyway.

"God no! No, hun. I figured, since you're staying local for school and work, and I have a decent amount of space between me and the office, I thought that maybe, if it came down to it, we could sell the Jeep."

He stared. He didn't blink for a full minute. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I'm doing the best I can, Daniel." She had used his name. She was frustrated. "We have to pay rent. We have to pay utilities. I have loans to pay off. I don't know where the rest of our money is going, but it's not in the account anymore. I thank God that you have insurance through school."

"My Jeep's a piece of shit! Why can't we sell your car?"

"Well, first of all, I can't drive standard." She clenched her hands into tight fists, but her voice remained calm. "Second, I work a professional job. I have to drive to customers' offices."

"I can teach you to drive it. I mean, we tried before. Why isn't my Jeep good enough for you?"

"You just said it was a piece of shit! What kind of image am I sending if I meet a customer to exchange papers and they see me in a dirty red Jeep with no doors?"

"This is fucking ridiculous. I've had that Jeep longer than I've known you." He instantly regretted saying this.

Her voice dropped. "Look, okay. It was just a suggestion, Dan."

He saw the tears welling in her eyes. They sparkled in the dim yellow light.

"Okay." He took a deep breath. "Can we see how things go? I'll pick up more shifts; you'll keep looking. I want us to both be happy."

She shook her head and went into the bedroom, slamming the door.

He fell asleep on the couch watching a Tony Robbins infomercial that night. Another plane crashing into the ocean. Monday morning, there was no coffee in the pot. "She's doing me a favor," he grumbled to himself. He got dressed and drove to work. His boss said he was a good kid, and he'd give Dan as many hours as he could afford. He said it was a tough business working a small place in a small town, especially with a Blockbuster a few miles down the road. "So you ain't goin' t' school no more?"

"Nah."

The instant he set foot through the front door that evening, Laura ran to kiss him. "Maybe I too hasty," she said over dinner. She had set the table with cloth napkins and a couple of those tall candles. I can ask my boss for a raise; I think I deserve it. Did you ask for more hours?"

"Yeah. I got them."

"I guess this is one of those times where we just need blind faith. You were right. We can work on this. We can both be happy. Together."

"I'm sure you'll get a phone call any day now."


Any day did not come soon enough. Dan cleaned out the red Jeep for the second time since he bought it. The first time was when they drove to meet her parents; she insisted he put the doors back on. Now the only thing he left inside was the car manual and a lighter in the glove compartment, because he didn't want Laura thinking he still smoked. Everything else, insurance forms, mostly-blank notebooks, napkins, the $150 textbook, an old pair of sneakers, it all went into a box. He taped it up and shoved it into the closet in the hall with his foot.

Some punk kid bought the Jeep. Said he was real excited to take it off-roading. Dan knew the clutch would be gone in a matter of days. At least he still had a roof over his head, right? He could've lived in the Jeep. He owned it; there was no rent to pay.

Laura tried to hold him as the punk drove away, stalling in the parking lot. He pushed her away. He stood in the parking lot until the sunset, when he started seeing black spots on everything. He heard the roar of a 767 over the building as he staggered up the stairs and nearly fell into the apartment.


He rode a cheap second- or third-hand bike to work each day. It was humiliating, like he was an old man and needed a wheelchair because he couldn't be trusted to walk on his own anymore. The brakes didn't even work that well. He couldn't blame Laura; it wasn't her fault that they were broke. The Jeep was the most expensive thing they owned that they could actually sell. It made sense, but it still felt like everything he'd ever wanted been taken from him. How could he not resent the woman that was somehow connected to everything he lost?

He knew Laura was aware of his misdirected anger. He knew she was trying to do everything she could for him. On top of working full time and her job search, she was still at home cooking and cleaning, and she still had the energy at night for sex, even though the whole process seemed like just that - a mechanized process with no emotion attached. Just the way he scanned and shelved at the video store. He kept thinking about his dreams and how the Jeep hadn't been in them lately.


She was sitting on the floor in the living room, surrounded by paper and stolen silverware and his old pair of sneakers when he got home. He hung his coat in the closet in the hallway.

"You seemed really down lately. I was trying to surprise you by cleaning up everything that used to be in the Jeep, so I went through the box in the closet. But I found these." She pointed to small, neatly piled stack of paper on the floor next to her. "What's going on with school?"

He was too tired to care. He wanted her to feel as disappointed as he was. "I dropped out."

"You dropped out," she repeated.

"Not that I wouldn't have failed out anyway."

"You dropped out?" He knew he was searching every inch of his face for the start of a smirk or some other indication that this was all a terrible joke. He knew she would be unsuccessful. "How are you ever going to get out of the video store? How are we ever going to get out of this shit town? More importantly, how are we going to afford your medical supplies? I'm trying my best here." She pulled the hair away from her face; her eyes looked ugly. "I feel like you're not even helping me out. You have to go back, or this isn't going to work."

"No. It's a goddamned ultimatum. I won't take it." He walked back into the hall, still shouting. "You say you're doing your best like I'm not trying too!" He yanked his coat off the hanger and slammed the closet door. "This is fucking hard for me."

"Well, it's not exactly easy on my side."

"Yeah, but I didn't want this! You people are taking everything from me!"

She stood up and looked him straight in the eye. "Me? Daniel, I'm not taking anything. I didn't 'take' your Jeep. We agreed to sell it. We had to sell it."

"That's not what I meant." Her hurt expression twisted into confused. He took a deep breath. "You took me to the doctor."

"Daniel, I wasn't the one that told you that you couldn't fly."

"You took me to that doctor."

"You were sick! You were covered in bruises. You said your glasses weren't working anymore." It wasn't good enough. "I was worried. You were worried too, if you remember it at all."

"You took me to that fucking doctor."

"Well, god forbid I show one iota of consideration for you." She was packing everything back into the box. "It wasn't the doctor's fault; he just diagnosed you. It obviously couldn't be your fault; you didn't ask for it. So yeah, it must be me. I gave you diabetes because I want you to be miserable."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't be your handsome CEO in shining armor. That's not what I wanted."

"Well, tell me what you do want. Tell me what I can do. I'm all ears." She cupped both her hands to her ears and shook her head. Her hair flew everywhere.

"I don't want to talk about this."

"You don't want to talk about this because you don't know what you want anymore."

"I don't have to take this." He pulled his coat on, as violently as he could. He did all he could to communicate how angry he was. As he shoved his arm through the right sleeve, the pack of Luckies fell out of the breast pocket onto the living room floor. He and Laura both looked down.

"I think you should leave." Her voice was soft now.


He closed the door to the apartment quietly and slipped his keys through the mail slot. He made sure the front door to the building closed securely. The key to the lock for the shitty bike was with his apartment key now. He didn't bother to look up to see if Laura was watching him through the window.

It was late. In a small town like this, there's only one main road in and out. The reflectors on Route 36 glowed, pointing him in the right direction. 360 degrees. North. He extended his arms and ran.