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We were driving. McMurphy was, anyway. It was the middle of the day and McMurphy had the top down, letting the wind cool us off from the midday sun. God the way it was probably burning him. I sat in the passenger seat, watching everything move past us, and let my hands rest in my lap. I let my mind go off somewhere, listening to McMurphy absentmindedly hum and the sound of my jaw chewing on the gum between my teeth. I wasn’t saying a thing, just letting my right hand fiddle with my left, picking and tearing at the skin on my fingers, and trimming off my nails. I was in the middle of tearing one on my thumb off when it got stuck on the skin on the edge.
McMurphy must have seen me, because he smacked my left hand away from my right, before returning his own hand to the steering wheel.
“Mac.” I narrowed my eyes at him, clearly pouting but I couldn’t admit it then.
“It’s goddamn disgusting,” he told me, raising his voice over the mild wind. “They’ll get all infected.”
I grumbled quietly enough he couldn’t hear. As soon as he started concentrating on driving, I sucked in a breath and tore off the growing nail on my thumb, consequently taking a good bit of skin with it. It burned, and I knew it was going to bleed in a minute or so. McMurphy heard the hitch of pain in my breathing because he looked at me more pissed off than I’d ever seen him.
“Are you fucking with me,” he complained. He swiftly leaned over to my side and opened the glove box. “Get a bandaid on that now.”
I did what he said, slowly as I wanted. As much as the wind on the open wound gave it a small amount of relief, letting it be covered with soft cotton made it much better, having that constant pressure. I felt him glancing at me, as I returned to picking them off of my left hand, with only four left to go.
“For the love of Christ.” At this point, he might as well have been shouting. He grabbed my left wrist and pulled my hand to the console, slowing his driving as he looked back and forth between me and the road. “The hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m sorry, Mac, I just—“ I knit my brow together in thought.
“Can’t sit still for ten seconds?”
“I…” I stared at my lap, watching my right fingers move around and stretch and fold on my thighs.
I heard McMurphy sigh stressfully. His pointer finger tapped against the steering wheel repetitively. “It just annoys me, okay? And it’s dirty to have nail clippings in the car.”
“Oh.” I sat there, his hand still wrapped around my wrist, which was pressed into the center console. “That’s a good point, I guess.”
“You can’t be hurting yourself no more, Chief. I’m not gonna be letting you do that.”
“I know.” When he didn’t respond, I spoke up again. “It’s easier when my hands are full.”
He still said nothing, save for a hum of acknowledgment, and I thought I had soured his mood for the rest of the trip. My heart fluttered when I felt him let go of my wrist and instead slide his hand into mine, grasping at it and intertwining our fingers, making me close my own around the outside of his hand. My cheeks burned, melted, but he acted like he wasn’t doing a thing when I looked at him. He just sat there like he was wholly absorbed in his driving. The bastard wouldn’t even say anything, but I could tell he saw me, and the knowing grin that grew on his face only proved it.
Annoyed as I was that he wouldn’t talk, and I couldn’t get at my nails anymore, I decided to keep squeezing his hand whenever it crossed my mind. Sometimes randomly, sometimes in rhythms. It was something to do as I waited for us to stop for the day, and find a room we could sleep in. Thinking about it, we still got rooms that had separate beds in them. As nervous as I am about McMurphy, I want to know when he’ll pay for a room with one bed, if he ever will. I’m not sure I’d mind it.