The rain came down hard now, and for a long while the only sounds were from the windshield wipers, the drum of the water on the roof and windows, and the tires along the pavement. The last rays of sunlight were striking defiant tones against the armada of dark clouds.

“I appreciate you offering me a ride,” said Amber, glancing over at Mike.

“It’s OK. I said I would.” Mike wore a black leather jacket over a black t-shirt, and stared ahead into the rain, just like the headlights. The sky was the color of slate and the wind was blowing.

Amber looked down at her hands, then back up at Mike. “It’s great to have a three-day weekend. No classes! And my mom will really be glad to meet you, though the drive’s going to suck.” Her bag was in the backseat next to his, and somehow that made her happy.

“Traffic is slowing down,” he said. The transmission made a brief clack as he hastily shifted into a lower gear. Up ahead, brake lights started to flash like angry fireflies.

“Hey, wasn’t that funny when Dr. Barmish came to class with his zipper down?” said Amber, in a burst. Statistics class would have been an absolute horror this semester if she had not met Mike there.

Mike did not respond, but worked the clutch and shifter.

Amber looked through her side mirror at the other cars, also slowed by the traffic and the rain. Some windows emitted the glow of movies playing on tiny screens. Except for the headlights, other cars were dark and impenetrable.

“Is something wrong?” Amber watched Mike’s expression for a hint. Mike had missed two days of class this week, so today was the first time she had seen Mike after his absence.

He was silent for a few moments, then reached for the defroster.  “I hate the email system.” Ahead of them, the angry fireflies became constant beacons of warning.

“You hate email?”

“I hate the system, the email system they use. It’s so 1990s.” Mike glanced at Amber, then back to the road. “We spare no expense for your education,” he said, in mock pride. “But clearly they do. Also, it doesn’t interface well with my email client. Sometimes, when I try to pull new emails, the system erases all my old ones.”

Their car came to a full stop and Mike changed the fan speed for the defroster several times, as the windows continued to fog. Amber made no comment.

“And if I try to pull email using my browser, I can’t,” he said, a little louder than was needed inside a car. “And it doesn’t support Safari. How lame. Who doesn’t support Safari these days?” His foot mashed the clutch even though they were at a standstill. “What a crock,” he said, shifting into neutral and letting go of the stick in one grand flourish.

“I didn’t know you were so passionate about email,” said Amber, looking down at her hands again.

“I’m not,” said Mike. “I’m just tired of having to solve the world’s problems and make all the decisions. Life is so fragile, especially with those you care about.” One hand gripping the wheel, he shifted his car into first gear. Up ahead, car tail lights were blinking off in a slow motion wave, like a power outage sweeping across a city, and their car started forward again.

*

Amber paused her iPod. “Hey Mike, how’re you doing?” They had been driving for a while now, but the darkness somehow distorted the sense of time.

“I’m doing OK. But I’ll be ready for a break soon.” His tone was level as he spoke. “Must be around midnight. How about you?”

“The next place you see would be good for me, too,” she said, as she wrapped her earphones around her iPod. The rain had stopped, and they continued on in the quiet that exists right after a big storm. Soon they saw the sign for a rest area and they decided to take it.

“It’s not a Starbucks, but some of these rest stops are actually not too bad,” said Amber, putting on her shoes.

“No, it’s OK. I’ve been through here before.” Mike maneuvered into the right-hand lane. “I really could use a break.”

He down-shifted onto the exit ramp, and they drove slowly along the rows of parking spaces for cars, trucks with trailers, and the big rigs. There were lights illuminating a one-story brick building with three arches. The middle arch appeared to be for snacks, and the other two arches seemed to be restroom entrances. Off to the side were barbecue grills; scattered around were grassy areas criss-crossed with walkways and little stands with free doggie waste bags.

“Busy tonight, huh?” said Amber, watching the scene.

Parents were pulled along by their children toward the vending machines, and dogs of all shapes and sizes marked their turf on the grass, poles, and trash cans, with their humans in tow. There weren’t many open parking spaces, and Mike had to drive to the end of the lot to find one.

Amber turned quickly in her seat. “Hey, look at that guy.”

Near the edge of one of the grassy areas it appeared as though an older man was trying to hit at something on the ground.

“Oh my God,” she said, “it’s a dog. He’s beating a little dog.”

Mike immediately jumped out of the car and ran towards the older man.

The little dog move in a tight arc back and forth around one of the man’s legs. The man had  stepped on the dog’s leash about three feet from the dog’s neck, and with the free end of the leash  he struck at the dog. Mike saw the man connect on one swing, and the little dog let out a tiny yelp as it tumbled over, a flying ball of hair and little paws that was jerked to a stop by the leash. There was a small pile of dog turds on the sidewalk.

“Hey you,” said Mike, as he moved toward the man. “Leave the dog alone!”

The man looked at Mike, holding the free end of the leash in his hand. The little dog pulled at the other end of the leash, trying to get away.

“Piss off. This is my dog. If the little asshole wants to shit all over the sidewalk, then I can beat the shit out of it so it doesn’t happen again.” He faced square to Mike now, though he still kept one foot on the leash.

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to go on the sidewalk,” said Mike. “He’s just a little dog. You don’t have to hit him.” Mike held his hands in front of him in a soothing gesture, but his body was tense, breath shallow.

“The little shit is more trouble than he’s worth,” said the man. He looked down at the dog. “I think Satan’s in him. But I can hit him if I want to,” he continued, turning back to Mike. “Man has dominion over the beasts of the earth.”

Amber came up behind Mike, and behind them several people watched.

“If you don’t want him,” said Mike, “I’ll take him off your hands.”

The man looked at Mike, Amber, and the small crowd of people behind them that had gathered. He hesitated.

“Fine,” he said, throwing the leash at Mike. “But that’s your shit now on the sidewalk.” After a snort of derision, he walked across the grass toward the cars.

Mike grabbed the leash, knelt down, and faced the little dog. The dog was still pulling at the leash, trying to get away.

“Hey little fellow,” said Mike, in a soothing voice. “It’s OK now. Everything is going to be OK.”

He gathered the dog into his arms and for several minutes held the dog close, as Amber comforted them both, two souls in need of healing.

*

They could hear the gravel crunch under the car tires as they turned off onto an old country road. The sky blinked awake as the first rays of the sun hinted through the trees. On either side of the road grew tobacco plants, tall and soon ready for pulling. Several doves sat together up above on the phone line running down the side of the road. Mike looked over at Amber, who was yawning. The little dog lay curled up in a little ball on her lap, fast asleep.

“Thanks for agreeing to swing by here,” said Mike. “My grandma’s place was always something special and magical for me growing up.”

“I think it’s amazing that she lived just an hour from where I grew up.” She gave Mike a smile and watched the fields, trees, and sky. “So I’m happy to make a side trip.”

They continued slowly down the old country road, then turned onto a gravel driveway. Large oak trees towered in the front yard above a little white house with a front porch and topped by a green tin roof. The house needed some paint, and the yard looked like it needed mowing about three weeks ago.

“My uncle comes up here now and then to cut the grass and check on the place,” said Mike. He stopped and parked underneath one of the trees. They got out of the car, and Mike insisted on holding the little dog’s leash. Its tail wagged back and forth like a little fan as they walked together into the backyard. There were more oak trees there too, and off to the sides of the path they could make out the borders of some old flower beds.

“Daffodils,” said Mike. He pointed to one of the beds. “My grandma loved to plant daffodils there.”

They continued to a flat area underneath one of the large oak trees.

“And this is where we would make ice cream,” he said. “I got the honor, or at least to me it was an honor, of turning the crank.”

“Crank?”

“Yes, you would put the canister of cream in the middle of this wooden tub, then layer the tub with ice and salt. Then you would turn this crank, which would spin a beater inside the canister. The melted, salty, ice water was really cold, and so it would freeze the cream inside the canister. Voila, ice cream.”

“That sounds wonderful. We never made our own ice cream. We just bought it from the store. What was your favorite kind?”

“I loved my grandma’s homemade banana ice cream,” he said, as he picked acorns off the ground. “I don’t know why, but that was my favorite. It had just the right amount of sweetness, and the bananas didn’t clump up like with some of the other fruits. And at just the right temperature, it would be really soft and buttery. But it was cold too, probably because it didn’t have all those artificial ingredients. Perfect on a hot summer day. My dad said it was like giving your tongue a sleigh ride.”

The little dog was busy investigating the bushes, and gave a fierce, tiny bark when it was spooked by a jumping grasshopper.

“This place heals me,” said Mike, “and after the last couple of days, I needed it.” He looked over the yard into some pastures that contained sheds and barns, a few filled with bales of hay.

“It’s nice,” said Amber, watching Mike, and happy he seemed to be opening up a little.

He smiled at her, then took her hand in his.

“Come on,” he said, “let’s look around a little more before we get back on the road with our new little friend.”