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Somewhere during our relationship, I had become a terrible passenger. It was my instinct to randomly grab the handle of the door in a panic, point at things on the road as if Chris hadn’t seen them - the man had never been in an accident, of course he’d seen them - and drive a hole into the floor where an invisible brake pedal might be. I could sense my body tensing up and preparing to become that nightmare of a passenger as I squinted to see through the veil of thick grey that enveloped the windshield. ‘You’re going to make it worse Alaina, just shut up and let him drive.’ I told myself,
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When I read this paragraph I thought to myself “ oh my she is writing about me “. Ha
