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Los Alamos

It was then, his eyes off the road, that they hit the rock. There was a loud pop, as startling as gunfire, then the sudden lurch as they felt the car swerve to the right, sinking to the flapping tire.

“Christ,” Connolly said, stopping the car. “Now what the hell do we do? Do you have a spare?”

“In the boot.”

“Christ. He got out to look.

“Can you fix it?”

“This one’s shot,” he reported. “We’ll have to change it.” He looked around the empty landscape in the dwindling light. “Do you have a jack?”

“Whatever’s back there. There’s some sort of toolbox, I think.” She opened the trunk. “This? I don’t know what any of it is. What’s the matter-don’t you?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“I thought Americans knew everything about cars.”

He didn’t answer but instead started struggling with the jack, trying to assemble the handle, and getting down to look under the chassis.

“Can you manage it, do you think?” she said.

“Let’s hope so. Unless you want to spend the night.”

“Can I help?”

“You can stand out of the light.” He looked up. “What’s so funny?”

“You. Nothing. You should see your face. Like a cross little boy. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“I’ve seen it done. You have a better idea?”

“I could walk back to the ranger station and bat my eyelids and get him to fix it. He’d come like a shot.”

“I’ll figure it out,” he said, fixing the jack in place.

She sighed. “Men. What makes you all like that, anyway?”

“Like what?” he said, only half paying attention.

“You never want to ask for help. Directions. A man will never ask directions. Just drive round and round and never ask.”

“Want to hand me that?” he asked, pointing to a wrench. She jumped up, ready to help.

“Scalpel,” she said, handing it to him. “Sponge.”

He looked up at her. “You’re having fun.”

“I know. Isn’t it awful? I am. I’ve always wondered what it would be like, stuck in the middle of nowhere. Rather exciting.”

“It’s going to be a lot more exciting if we don’t fix this before it gets dark.”

“Never mind. We can always sleep in the car.”

“There’s something to look forward to,” he said absently, unscrewing the lugs on the wheel.

“Oh, poor Michael, still longing for bed. Jinxed, that’s what it is. Still, there’s always the car. I’ve never done it in a car, have you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.”

“Really? What’s it like?”

He stared at the wheel, trying to determine the next step. “Right now, I don’t know which is more annoying, you or this tire.”

“All right,” she said, “I’ll be quiet. That’s the thanks one gets for being cheerful. What is it like, though? In a car.”

“Cramped.”

She got a cigarette out of the car, then sat near him, watching him work. The heat had gone with the sun and she drew her legs up, huddling over them and smiling to herself in unexpected contentment. After a while he needed the flashlight, so she held it for him, training its beam on the tire while she studied his face in the shadow.

“I wonder what else you can’t do,” she said, “besides fix cars. I mean, I don’t know anything about you. What do you like? What are your politics? Why aren’t you in the army, for instance?”

“Eyes. I have a lazy muscle in my left.”

“What’s that? You mean you don’t see properly?”

“No, the right compensates. It’s not serious, just serious enough to keep me out of the army. They figured I’d make a lousy shot.”

“Did that bother you?”

“For about ten minutes. Then I felt grateful. There, now you know something I’ve never told anyone.”

“What else?” she said softly.

“I don’t know. Hate team sports, except baseball. Not very handy fixing things around the house either. That help?”

She shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

“What, then?”

“Nothing, I guess.”

“That’s a load off my mind,” he said absently, still concentrating on the lugs. “Damn.” The wrench clattered to the ground.

“Have a break,” she said, handing him her cigarette. His sunburned face glistened with sweat in the narrow light. “This is jolly, isn’t it?” She looked around and up at the sprinkling of early stars. “I love the desert at night. It comes alive then.”

“Don’t tell me with what.” He took a drag on the cigarette, following her gaze upward, then settling back on her face.

“There, that’s better,” she said. “We may as well enjoy it.”

“What, breaking down?”

“Mm. Being marooned. Can you think of a better way to get to know someone?”

“Hundreds.” He handed back the cigarette. “Is that why we’re here? To get to know each other?”

“It’s away. I wanted to get away. From the Hill. I couldn’t know you there.”

“And now you do.”

“A little. You always learn something out here.”

“Such as?”

“All sorts of things. You’re stubborn. You like to finish things.”

“Don’t you?”

She paused for a minute. “Not always. Sometimes I just-walk away. Go somewhere else.”