Nancy Rish waits for Danny at the railroad crossing, as she was instructed. She looks around, nervous, unsure if whatever Danny is up to is illegal. She thinks about firing up the engine and driving away, leaving Danny to whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into this time.
But she can’t bring herself to do it. She loves him. She wants a life with him.
A normal life.
Is this a normal life? she asks herself. Waiting by a railroad track in the middle of nowhere at three in the morning? No, this is far from a normal life.
But Danny has promised this is the last time he’ll do something like this. And at least it—whatever it is—is not drug dealing.
Even if this isn’t a normal life, maybe a normal life is right around the corner. A little voice inside Nancy’s head tells her she’s just fooling herself. But she’s already here, already waiting. What would Danny do if she drove off without him?
He almost slapped her the other day. Whatever he is into is stressing him out to the point that he was almost willing to hurt her.
It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to abandon Danny now. If she did, she might as well go home and grab Benji out of bed and run away. But where could she go?
The answer is simple: nowhere.
If she runs away from Danny, she has nowhere to run to.
She bites her fingernails and looks around impatiently.
Danny comes walking toward the car, emerging from the darkness like a phantom. He is carrying a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.
Nancy scowls at him as he opens the door.
“There aren’t any drugs in there, are there?”
“No,” Danny says, irritated. “I already told you I’m not dealing.”
“Then what are you doing?”
Danny leans his head back against the headrest like he’s worn out from a hard day’s work.
“You don’t want to know,” he mutters.
Danny is filthy. His pant legs are dusty, and his hands are caked in what looks like a muddy mix of dirt and sweat.
Nancy opens her mouth to speak, but Danny cuts her off with a curt “Let’s get going already.”
Nancy starts the engine and drives away. The headlights slice through the darkness. They drive in silence for several minutes.
“Pull over up here,” Danny says, pointing to a gas station. “I need to make a phone call.”
“At this hour?”
Danny doesn’t answer, and Nancy doesn’t press him. She pulls off into the gravel parking lot and stops the car. She leans back and closes her eyes as she waits.
She doesn’t see Danny pull a tape recorder out of the duffel bag when he gets to the pay phone.