KILLIAN

Nine hours later, I was still in a car with Stella Huxley.

I couldn't tell if I was annoyed, amused, or so confounded from exhaustion that I was losing my damn mind, but if I had to compartmentalise this journey with her to use later in my defence testimony, it would go a little something like this:

6:45am

We finally left the bed and breakfast. Stella insisted that she still smelt like a dog and had a bath, then fell asleep in said bath. I am not sure how she fit the explosion of clothing lying around the room into her one backpack, but by the time she dragged it to the car, the sun had well and truly risen. At least, I conceded, we were leaving before the morning rush hour traffic besieged the city of Bloemfontein.

7:10am

Returned to the bed and breakfast.

Stella forgot her glasses on the bathroom sink.

In light of recent developments, I insisted that a thorough inspection of the room be completed before attempting to leave again. Once she had acquiesced to that simple request, with no less than three eyerolls, she found a pair of her socks under her bed and one of her rings on the nightstand.

7:45am

Left the bed and breakfast for the final time.

Hit the morning rush hour traffic.

Stella wisely chose silence until we left the city.

8:15am

Stopped at the first petrol station outside the city because Stella had to pee.

Upon checking the dashboard, I was somewhat dismayed to note that we had not travelled fifty kilometres yet. We had about seven hundred to go.

8:30am

We had an argument about the music being played in the car. Stella insisted that she enjoyed listening to Cardi B's WAP, claiming that it was an artistic portrayal for the vindication of the rights of women.

She was lying.

About liking the song, not about the latter bit. I honestly do not think Ms. B was trying to do anything more with the lyrics to her song other than make it what it was... seeing as the subtlety of innuendo appears to not have been bothered with as well.

When I pointed this out to Stella, she promptly informed me that I was only thinking with my dick and I wouldn't understand because I was a man.

I chose silence that time.

9:00am

Stella refused to stop at a station when I had to pee.

She said that we needed to make up for lost time because we were running late.

9:05am

Stella stopped at the next petrol station when I reached for the polystyrene coffee cup she had drank from yesterday and began unbuckling the belt of my jeans.

9:15am

We bickered about the route.

I maintained that continuing on the N1 motorway towards Colesberg would be quicker than taking the N6 towards Aliwal North.

Stella made the argument that her route was more scenic, and we would drive through mountain passes. She also brought up the snow we had seen during one such trip over seven years ago.

When I pointed out that it was summer and therefore 100% likely that there wouldn't be any snow, she turned Ms. Cardi B on again and the volume max.

We took the N6.

11:20am

Miraculously, we managed a solid two hours of driving with little distraction other than the changing countryside.

I should have guessed that it was too good to be true. When we entered the slow-paced metropolis of Aliwal North, a quaint town on the banks of the Orange River- a border town between two provinces- Stella insisted we stop.

This time for clothes.

I chose to wait in the car.

That turned out to be an error of judgement on my part as her impromptu shopping spree lasted for longer than I could have possibly guessed considering she seemed to be acquiring herself a new wardrobe.

12:50pm

We departed Aliwal North.

Stella is no longer wearing bulky winter clothes, but rather considerably less than before. Her parcels take up much of the back seat of the SUV..

Now I am the hot one, pulling at the collar of my t-shirt that had begun to feel suddenly tighter around my neck.

1:10pm

Stella stopped the car mid-argument to fume silently at me.

I informed her that sitting with a leg curled under her while driving wasn't very safe.

She claimed that the car was perfectly fine in cruise control and the roads were stretching endlessly towards the next city- Queenstown- and that I was being a 'worry wart'.

I apologised- if only to get us moving again.

She did not put her foot under her again.

2:02pm

Stella stopped for a goat on the side of the road. She made me take a picture of her and the goat.

Then she took a picture of me and the goat.

2:05pm

Almost drove over aforementioned goat.

Stella has dubbed the SUV "Goat Bane".

2:45pm

Stella stopped the car on the side of the road during a break in a treacherous mountain pass, needing to pee.

She did not take well to my reminder that I was the one who told her to go at the last petrol station considering there wouldn't be another stop for some time.

Luckily for her, a few bushes off to the side of the road provided a decent amount of modesty for her, though when she returned to the car I thought I heard her complaining about a thorn in her arse.

***

We were approximately thirty minutes away from our destination. The drive was sluggish, and I couldn't fault Stella's caution as she manoeuvred the car through the narrow winding passes, the potholes that littered the tarmac occasionally, with an ease and confidence that came naturally to her.

It was easy to lose track of my thoughts while admiring the landscape out the passenger window. The mountainside was lush with green foliage, the sky endlessly blue as the sun descended towards the horizon.

Beside me, Stella was silent, occasionally humming along to a tune that came through the speakers- mercifully we had compromised and for the most part some Indie rock had dominated the sound system.

We had spent the majority of our relationship in the very area we were passing through and heading towards- young and carefree, our responsibilities so far-off we could scarcely imagine what they'd entail while we found happiness in a bottle of cheap wine or vodka, sitting with our toes in the sand and the waves of the ocean rolling over our ankles.

I wondered if Stella was remembering it, too.

Did she recall when her car broke down on the road beside the coast, the winter so bitterly cold we had huddled together under my jacket until a tow truck arrived?

Was she also reminiscing on the first time we met, in the biggest lecture hall on campus when she opted to sit down next to me out of dozens of open seats?

Our first kiss, spurred on by drunken courage and a dare by one of our friends at the local student pub?

The first time I held her hand- under the blanket atop my bed while we watched a movie together on my laptop in my student residence on campus...

I tried to bring out the ever-present resentment that always followed when I thought of her, but for some reason right then it was absent. Perhaps being immersed in the environment that had created us was too revered to do a disservice to some of the happiest years of my life by clinging to those negatives.

I turned my gaze away from the flashing green scenery, considering her.

A pair of aviator sunglasses dipped over her nose while she had pushed her actual glasses into her hairline, her bangs sprouting out like wayward grass from beneath them. She wore her hair in a messy knot, pushed out of her face, and her forehead curved into a delicate slant and then dipped into the arch of her nose. Full lips permanently tilted a little upwards in a smile finished the look, with a solitary freckle just to the left of the flare of her nose.

She seemed more comfortable now in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of Daisy Dukes that left the tattoo on her thigh open for scrutiny. It was new, something she hadn't had when we were together, and I was instilled with the same thing that had come over me when I had seen her dressed in nothing but her panties and a pyjama top that morning.

Stirrings I had no right to.

A yearning so strong it almost choked me.

I couldn't dwell on that now. She had left me... left me without the courtesy of saying goodbye. Left me to pick up the pieces of the life she left behind.

"How is Colin doing?" I asked, attempting to divert my thoughts from her. At least if we were talking, I couldn't think too much about the past that haunted me.

Her brows rose in surprise, clearly not expecting me to show any interest in her beyond her ability to drive us to a friend's wedding. "He's fine..." she answered cautiously, nibbling her bottom lip in an uncertain tell. "Retired now. Still complaining about the birds eating the fruit from his trees in the garden."

"Please tell me he doesn't still try to shoot them with a pellet gun."

I was awarded half a smile for that quip. "Potato gun actually." She shrugged. "Until he realised that was damaging his fruit and trees more than scaring off the birds. Now he spends his days in the garden with the hose."

I could imagine Colin Huxley- abrasive, short and predominantly bald- shaking his fist at a fig tree and shouting curses to the leaves. "What about Garth?"

Stella's smile withered slightly. "Fine, I guess. What about your parents?"

"Good... well, Dad is set to retire next year. I suspect him and mum will move back to Dublin to be closer to their families."

She nodded her head, her profile carefully devoid of expression.

My mum had never liked Stella. Pauline Beckett was conservatively Catholic, set in her beliefs and ways, whereas Stella was... not. When I brought home a girlfriend for the first time who had rainbow coloured hair- it did not sit well. It went from bad to worse when Pauline noticed Stella's tattoos, and then catastrophic when Stella outright blasphemed in front of my mother.

When Stella had left me, I had felt that part of the reason why was because of the relationship she had with my mother... but I was never provided with all the reasons. I had spent weeks speculating over our problems, running through my mind the more serious arguments we had over the years.

But the closure I sought had always remained out of reach. Perhaps it was never meant to be attained, and looking at her now, I was beginning to realise that even if I had it, it wouldn't have been enough.

"That's to be expected," she agreed neutrally.

"Dad was diagnosed with cancer last month," I admitted, then slammed my mouth shut. Did I have any need to divulge Stella of my life-changing news when she had opted out of it? Probably not, but my mouth didn't seem to think so.

The only sound inside the car was that of the music drifting softly through the stereo, Stella's gaze fixed on the road. Long moments passed and she didn't say anything, and when she did it wasn't what I expected.

"What kind?"

Most people would offer apologies and sympathies. Most people would reach out, turning sad eyes in my direction, and some would become outright uncomfortable. Cancer was such an ominous word, laden with death and grief before such things could even become a reality.

"Renal cell carcinoma," I told her. "Kidneys."

She nodded once, her knuckles tightening against the steering wheel. "Chemo?"

I shook my head even though she wouldn't be able to see the gesture. "Not yet. The doctors advise other treatments before that." I hesitated slightly before saying, "It might be manageable."

She did then turn to me and peered over the edge of her glasses, her cerulean eyes clear and intent. "And what do you think of that?"

I sighed, slumping back into my seat, mulling over the words and how much to reveal to her. I shouldn't have confided in her, but in a way it made sense. Stella had lost people close to her; she had experience with all the horrid emotions that came with losing a parent.

"I don't know what to think."

Which, at least, was the truth.

The diagnosis was still fresh. As a family, we were still processing it as best we could. As a 31-year-old who could potentially lose his father...

I had researched the numbers, used analytics to coordinate my feelings- yet there was no data, no numbers, that could take away from the fact that 179000 people die from kidney cancer each year.

Vastly more than flying.

Stella's sudden rooting in the cubby between us diverted my attention. From the rustling of a bag, she procured a packet of candy- sour gummy worms- and offered it in my direction. "Worm?"

I pushed the bag away from under my nose. "Those are disgusting," I told her, lightly repulsed. I couldn't make myself annoyed when I knew she was trying to change the topic to lighten the mood, which is exactly what I needed. "I will take one of your chocolate bars though."

"Hey!" She dropped the bag of worms in her lap and began swatting my hand away, but I was too fast for her, snagging the bar from the bottom before she could swipe it away. "That's the last one!"

"You've eaten about a dozen of them today alone!"

She turned to give me an exaggerated sneer. "Are you judging me?"

"Nope. Just pointing out the fact that eating twelve chocolate bars in the space of a few hours probably isn't good for you."

"Yes, mom."

I unwrapped the bar, leaned forward in my seat until I was sure she would be able to see me out the corner of her eye, and took a monumentally huge bite from it. Not my proudest moment, especially since my cheeks were so stuffed with chocolate, caramel, and nougat I couldn't talk for it.

"Don't eat it all, you ass! At least leave me a bite," she demanded, peeved, when I continued to chew.

After a hefty swallow, I said agreeably, "Oh, I will."

I left her the tiniest bite I could manage without the bar turning into crumbs. When I deposited the small chunk into her hand, she cast it a very quick look of incredulity and then threw it at me.

"You owe me a chocolate!" she snapped.

"Look, you've tossed it on the floor now," I complained, fishing the tiny piece from the debris sitting around my ankles.

"Fine, give it here then." She held out her hand.

"Stella, you can't be serious."

"I don't waste chocolate, Killian."

I gave her a speaking look and then deposited the small piece of chocolate, now looking even worse for wear, into the palm of her outstretched hand. She blew it off once and then popped it into her mouth.

"Christ," I muttered.

"Oh, stop being such a stick in the mud. It's hardly about to kill me, is it? Besides, I am sure you've put worse things in your mouth than a bit of chocolate that fell onto a clean car's floor."

"Well now..."

Her cheeks flushed and I couldn't help chuckle. "Don't say it!" she yelped. "I hear it now. God, forget I said anything."

I doubted I would be able to forget anything about her for as long as I lived, but I didn't tell her that. Instead, I settled back into the chair and set the volume slightly higher in the car.

My mood was notably lighter, and the GPS indicated we would arrive at Sadie's in less than twenty minutes.

Where I would no longer be alone with Stella.

And suddenly, I didn't feel so relieved by that anymore.