Point of Retreat

Caulder will be with us on the way home, so I know if I want to lay it all out there, I have to do it now.
     
    I reach over and turn the volume down. She’s got her foot propped up on the dash and she’s staring out the window in an attempt to avoid confrontation like she always does. When she notices I’ve turned down the volume, she glances at me and sees me staring at her, then returns her attention back out the window. “Don’t, Will. I told you…we need time. I don’t want to talk about it.”
     
    She is so damn frustrating. I sigh and shake my head, feeling another round of defeat coming on. "Could you at least give me an estimate of how long you'll be carving pumpkins? It'd be nice to know how long I have to suffer," I say. I don't try and mask my aggravation. This space thing is really starting to annoy me. I can tell by her physical reaction that I said the absolute wrong thing again.
     
    "I knew this was a bad idea," she mumbles.
     
    My hands grip the steering wheel even tighter. You would think after a year I would have found a way to get through to her, or to manipulate her in some way. She’s almost impenetrable. I have to remind myself that her indomitable will is one of the reasons I fell in love with her in the first place.
     
    Neither of us says another word during the remainder of the drive. It doesn't help that neither of us turns the radio back up, either. The entire trip is incredibly awkward as I try my best to search for the right thing to say and she tries her best to pretend I don’t exist. As soon as we arrive at the bookstore in Detroit and I pull into a parking spot, she swings open the car door and runs inside. I’d like to think she’s running from the cold, but I know she’s running from me. From confrontation.
     
    While she’s inside, I get a text from my grandfather informing me that my grandmother is cooking us dinner. His text ended with the word “roast,” preceded by a hashtag.
     
    "Great," I mutter to myself. I know Lake has no intentions of spending the evening with my grandparents. As soon as I text my grandfather letting him know we’re almost there, she returns to the car.
     
    “They’re cooking dinner for us. We won't stay long,” I say.
     
    She sighs. “How convenient. Well, then take me to get a new battery first so we can get it over with.”
     
    I don’t respond as I pull out of the bookstore and head toward my grandparent’s house. She’s been to their house a couple of times before, so she knows when we get closer that I have no intentions of stopping at the store.
     
    “You've passed like three stores that sell batteries," she says. "We need to get one now in case it's too late on our way back."
     
    “You don’t need a battery. Your battery is fine,” I say.
     
    I avoid looking over at her but I can see her watching me, waiting for more explanation.
     
    I don’t immediately respond. I flick the blinker on and turn onto my grandparent’s street. When I pull into their driveway, I turn the car off and tell her the truth. What harm could it do at this point?
     
    “I unhooked your battery cable before you tried to leave today.” I don’t wait for her reaction as I get out of the car and slam the door. I’m not sure why I slam the car door. I’m not mad at her, I’m just frustrated. Frustrated that she doubts me after all this time.
     
    “You what! ?” she yells. When she gets out of the car, she slams her door intentionally.
     
    I keep walking, shielding the wind and snow with my jacket until I reach the front door. She rushes after me. I almost walk inside without knocking but remember how it feels, so I knock.
     
    “I said I unhooked your battery cable. How else was I going to convince you to ride with me?”
     
    "That's real mature, Will." She huddles closer to the front door, further away from the wind. I hear footsteps nearing the entryway from inside when she turns to face me. She opens her mouth like she's about to say something else, then rolls her eyes and turns away. The front door swings open and my grandmother steps aside to let us in.
     
    “Hi Sara,” Lake says with a fake smile as she hugs my grandmother.
     
    My grandmother returns her hug and I walk in behind them.
     
    “You two got here just in time. Kel and Caulder are setting the table,” she says. “Will, take both your jackets and go put them in the dryer to get the snow off so they won’t be so wet when you leave.”
     
    My grandmother