Tammy can see him starting to slump in his seat out of the corner of her eye. She shoves at his shoulder.
“Fenton! Earth calling! ”
He tries to stay with her, but he can’t. His eyes close and his head falls forward and to the side.
Tammy steps on it, then turns onto a gravel road, the back of the truck fishtailing behind them. She pulls to a stop at the end of the road. There is a graveyard to the left, the rocky shore and the river straight ahead, trees on the right reaching over top of the road and touching above the truck. Tunnel of love, she thinks. She lifts Fenton’s chin and turns his face toward her. He opens his eyes. Then closes them. He mumbles something that sounds like Sorry.
“Sorry? You better be sorry. You son of a bitch, Fenton. You better not have a fucking brain tumour. That’s all I need.” These episodes of Fenton’s are starting to scare her. She leans back in her seat, looks out at the glittering surface of the water.
“I’m here,” says Fenton. “I’m right here.” His eyes are still closed, and his hands are trembling a little, vibrating against the seat. Tammy slides over close to him, sweeps the garbage off the seat and onto the floor. She ducks her head so she doesn’t bump it on the ceiling as she straddles his lap. She pulls off her top and takes off her bra. Then she lifts up his T-shirt, pushes her bare breasts against him, and starts gently kissing his lips.
She kisses his mouth over and over again until he starts kissing her back.