Carwash

I’m in a carwash for the first time in twelve years. I’m trembling slightly, but he doesn’t notice. Suddenly my heart starts pounding, pounding. My brain is hot and squeezing. I can’t look him in the face anymore. My eyes are lowered and darting around the car looking for something that will make me feel better. For a moment they flick to my door handle. Could I quickly open the door, slam it, and run out of the carwash before the brushes return from the back of the car? No, he’d think me a fool. Oh God, they’re on their way. Too late! Oh shit, I don’t think I can take this! Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh my God. Just focus on your breathing. Oh God. They’re moving back behind us again. I can breathe a bit. I gingerly put my hand on the back of his, glancing for just an instant at his face. I think I’m going to be all right. I love him. I’m grateful for his steadiness. Oh shit, it’s time for the rinse. He chose the deluxe wash. I can only hope that there’ll be only one rinse. I’m feeling a lot steadier, but I don’t know if I could handle another ten minutes of this. Oh sweet relief, things seem to be winding down. Yes, definite signs that this ordeal is about to end. Oh, thank God. I’m smiling at him. No, I’m beaming. He really is the best. And this has been a wonderful day.