She switched off her bedside lamp and slowly, silently, zipped up her jacket.  She glanced at the clock - 3:00am - and held her breath while she listened to the house around her. Snores sounded in stereo from various corners, but not a creature was otherwise stirring.  She carefully unlocked her bedroom window and slid up the sash. Cold night air poured inside, and she escaped out into it.

She stood alone a moment on the roof, just enjoying the breeze and the starry wide open above her.  Her world was so small these days, and so crowded.  Out here, she still felt free.  She heard the low rumble of the car pulling up across the street, and padded lightly over to the drainpipe.  A few quick jumps, and she was safely on the ground. She flashed a grin and hurried over to the passenger side of Steve’s beamer. “Drive,” she commanded, climbing in, and he was moving before she’d even shut the door.  As her house vanished into the rearview, she sighed in relief.

“Long day?” he asked, looking at her with attentive eyes that rightfully belonged on the road.

“Long day, long week, long year . . .” she replied.

“And long odds,” he finished.

“Right,” she agreed ruefully. She let her head flop back onto the headrest and watched the streetlights flash by through the windshield.  Even with nowhere to go, the going felt good.

Steve reached over and turned down the volume on the radio - an endless loop of easy listening at this time of night.  “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” she said firmly.  Then, a breath or two later, “It’s just that for once it would be great if I could be believed and trusted and not have to call in a team of defense lawyers and give a goddamn dissertation every time I try to make a plan, you know?”

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

“But I don’t wanna talk about it,” she concluded, and he chuckled softly.

“So what do you wanna do?” 

This time she raised her eyebrows, and gave him a sly smile.  He pulled off down a side street, and then into a dark laneway.  He brought the beamer to a cautious stop, tucked in between a backyard garage and an overgrown hedge that would soon be covered in lilacs. When he killed the engine, they were basically invisible.

“Hey, Nance,” Steve said, and leaned in to kiss her.  

Their lips met, and the wave of warmth washed over her, melting away the day’s stresses.  Their tongues slid together and smoothed over all the edges of her frustration.  He buried his hand in the back of her curls, and she reached over to the front of his jeans, and they fell lockstep into their new, familiar rhythm.

After, they laid curled together in the backseat, half-dressed and crumpled, in a sweet, sleepy silence.  “I guess I should get back,” Nancy murmured, eventually, making no move to get up.

“You know you don’t have to, right?” Steve said, squeezing her fingers interlaced in his hand.  “We could just tell the truth.”

She sighed, and roused herself enough to start dressing.  This, too, was part of their new rhythm. “We will,” she promised.  “When the time is right.”

“Right,” he echoed, and unhurriedly reached for his sweater.  “When’s that, again?”

She shot him a look, but there was no impatience on his face.  Only sympathy. “When it’s over,” she told him.  “When we’re free.”  Or when we’re dead, she thought, and then swept it aside.  

“When we’re free, Nance, I’m coming straight over to pick you up, and then I won’t stop driving until we hit ocean.”  He punctuated it with a kiss, and then opened the door to let them climb back into the front.  Before she got out, she drew a little smiley face in the fogged up back window.  When we’re free.

The ride back was quiet, but a different kind of quiet.  An afterglowy quiet.  As they pulled up to the house, she looked around carefully and scanned all the windows.  The place was still asleep.  The mission, nearly accomplished.  “Goodnight, Steve,” she said, planting one last kiss on his cheek before reaching for the door handle.  “Thank you.”

“Any time at all,” he replied, as if that wasn’t self-evident.  Then, “Be careful on that climb.  First step’s a doozy.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry,” she said.  “I’m stealthy.”  She winked and opened the door.  “Like a ninja,” she finished, and stepped back out into the night.

She felt his eyes on her as she scaled the side of the house (quite easily, in point of fact), but it was a good feeling.  A safe one.  She was halfway through her window when she heard the car drive away, and then all she heard was snoring.  She undressed for the second time tonight, and crawled into bed.

Steve was right, of course.  She could tell the truth, rip off the bandaid, blow up the tenuous peace of the household.  She could throw one more match into the tinderbox of her life and hope the resulting blaze warms her without burning her up.  She could.  Should, even.  But then, there was a deeper truth: Nancy loved her secret.  It was the only thing she had left that was all hers - all theirs - and she wasn’t willing to part with it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.