Mike is Andy's brother, and Karen is the woman he lives with. They call each other Honey and Sweetie. I want to talk about Karen's last husband, who locked her in a room with him and then shot himself, but Karen and Mike want to talk about their politics, which worries me because it's a ten-hour drive to Andy's mom's house. I notice Mike did all the packing. I notice "Honey" is a nice preface to, "You forgot to pack my clipboard." Mike says that after Karen finishes her Ph.D. in physics, she's going to help him run political campaigns.

I ask, "Was your last husband involved in politics?"

Karen says, "It's a long story."

Andy, who is gripping the steering wheel too tightly, says, "I brought some chocolate to keep us awake for driving. Look in the cooler."

Everyone wants chocolate. Eating is a sacred form of entertainment on a car trip. I pass the box to the back, and Karen says, "Oh, Honey, do you want to share the heart?" Then she pokes her head inbetween the front seats, "Do you guys mind if we eat the heart? It's our year anniversary since the first time we rode in a car together."

I ask Andy if he wants to share, but he says he's sick of chocolate.

I announce I have to go to the bathroom. We stop at a rest place that is not really a place to rest, because there are piles of shit on the grass that people have tracked on the sidewalk, so you have to be on guard.

When we get back in the car, I notice Mike has m&m's. I wait to see if he offers us some, but he doesn't. "Mike," I say, "are you eating food that we don't know about?"

"Oh. I didn't know you'd want some."

Andy says it's my turn to drive. He says, "Please don't drive too fast."

"Look," I say, "It was okay for you to show me the mechanical stuff when I was learning to shift, but I think I can handle the speed limit. It's insulting to me when you tell me how to drive."

"I find if I stay at about sixty, I don't get tickets," he says.

I say, "Thank you for sharing that with me, Honey."

It's dark when I start driving and I can barely see the road. I follow a car that's the same make as Andy's and this way I can go faster because I don't have to see the road, just the tail lights.

"Karen, what about that story?" I say. Andy glares at me, so I try to think of something compassionate to say: "If you don't like to talk about it, I'll understand, I'm just really curious."

"I've told it so many times," she says, "I don't mind talking about it." She gives me the background, which I already know.

"Well, what made you stay with him? What was good about the relationship?"

"We had a lot of fun together. He was really good to me, just really possessive. I didn't like the possessive part, but I was too scared to leave. I would think about leaving but I never did it. When I told him I was thinking of leaving, just to try to get used to the idea myself, he shot himself."

"How was he good to you?"

"He was very supportive. Like, he left his job in Texas so we could move to Minnesota, where I wanted to go to school."

"That was nice. Was there blood?"

"When he shot himself?"

"Yeah."

"No, just in a small puddle by the door. He stood against the door when he shot himself. So he fell in front of the door. My first reaction was that I'd be stuck in the room. But I was able to drag his body away and get out. That was the bloody part."

By the time the story's done, my eyes are used to driving, and I go very fast, fast enough to pass. And Andy's too tired to say anything.