Evan pressed north as the day turned into evening.

He kept the radio off.

He kept seeing Lily's face, the way she'd looked at him when she'd left. Like he was dangerous. Like he was damaged.

I'll remember this for the rest of my life, he thought.

He'd seen Lily sitting at a table in the McDonald's as he'd pulled out of the parking lot, on her phone with the DADDY'S LIL MONSTER case. Her bag was next to her. Her feet were crossed underneath the table. She hadn't looked up.

After Lily had slammed the door for the final time, he'd sat in the driver's seat as a strange feeling of detachment floated through him.

She was really gone. He felt it.

He'd blown it. Christ Almighty, he had blown it.

He wanted to go back in time to the previous Tuesday, to stop himself from hitting send on that text.

Evan took the stick shift in his pulsing fingers, put the car into reverse, tapped the gas pedal, felt the car move backward, turned the wheel, put his foot on the brake, put the transmission into drive, hit the gas again.

He stopped only once – to fill up-- feeling like everyone at the place was judging him as they filled their own tanks.

Half an hour later he was passing the Pure Michigan sign.

An hour after that he was taking the exit off the freeway to South Lyon.

Fifteen minutes after that he was approaching his neighborhood.

He drove past it without even noticing. He wasn't ready to go back. Not yet.

He drove past his old high school.

He drove past his old middle school.

He drove past his old elementary school.

He drove past McHattie Park. Past the Witch's Hat and the caboose out in front of it.

Past downtown and all its handsome red brick buildings with white wooden trim, a perfect portrait of small town America.

Past the theater.

Past St. Joseph's Catholic Church where he'd gone to catechism with Lily, back when they were kids.

He drove past the library.

He drove down Dixboro Road all the way to Five Mile, then turned around and headed back to town.

He even took a lap through Kensington, just for the hell of it. He drove past East Launch, Mitten Bay, Shore Fishing, circled in the roundabout, past the Farm Center, the Park Office, Playfield, Orchard Hill, Bay Woods, Turtlehead, the Nature Center, and West Launch. He took a right out of the park.

He drove up to the hill where the God's Eye stood blinking its white lights. It was nearly dark now, and Evan parked and got out of the Civic. He stepped through the hole in the fence and stood on the western side of the hill where he'd once stood with Jason. He watched the sun sink down past Brighton and all the radio towers blinking their red lights, talking with the God's Eye.

He took a seat, and he stayed up there, sitting until his butt was as numb on the dirt as it had been on the hard plastic seat in Bridgestone Arena.

He kept seeing the curtain of rain, the white bedlam of the spinout, Lily's frightened scream. The way she'd looked at him after. Always, the way she'd looked at him.

He felt like he should berate himself like he usually did, curse and beat and punish himself within his head. But he didn't. Every time he started to it just felt absurd.

Evan watched the stars come out, stared at them, thought of the dream he'd had.

"The sky is intimidating if you think about it," Jason had said in his dream.

Jason had only been able to focus on the negative truths of the world. That was his problem.

Evan lay on his back on the good, soft earth. The dry grass on the slant of the hill was a comfortable natural recliner. He focused in on the little white pinpricks of lights spread out above him, blinking just above the pinnacle of the God's Eye, the God's Eye's lights just like the stars.

The world turned, and Evan thought.