I said that we ought to just accept that this relationship might end [really not the best subject given the circumstances; rereading this, I’m amazed that I managed to say it at all without bursting into laughter at my own ineptitude]. Right when I said this, I checked to see what her hands were doing, and I saw she was twisting up a pair of headphones that had been on the dashboard, the ones I’d been using to listen to my music. Still trying to watch the road, I snapped, “Stop it—you’re distracting me! Put my earbuds down!”

“They’re not yours—I have the same ones.”

“Just put them down!”

“Stop shouting!”

She opened her window and tossed them out, into the sand. She was crying.

I let out a sigh. I was glad she’d thrown those earbuds out the window. It was only when Barbara disappeared, or she destroyed something, that our relationship found expression. In the past, if I wasn’t sure whether or not I should consider her outbursts as something toxic, spreading, now that I was paying closer attention, her actions seemed to be clear indications, like warning lights on a dashboard.

Barbara seemed to be tossing those irrelevant things into another world, where they became real. That other world was where she went when she ran away, when she spent the night away from home. Now that I understood this process, I was able to say the right thing: “Baby, I love you so much. Don’t be scared now—we’re doing fine—it’s a nice drive—we’re just a little scared, that’s all. Just don’t be scared of me.”

“No, no, it’s not you I’m scared of. It’s the desert. You’re being sweet.”

There were fewer and fewer houses along the road and possibly—or was I just getting carried away—each house was more ramshackle than the last. Finally, with a lot of fiddling, we managed to get the GPS going, which we’d basically ignored the entire day because we didn’t trust it. We realized we had two hundred kilometers left.

The sun set around seven-thirty; the road was dotted with shacks; in the water, the plants made the Dead Sea look like a rice paddy. Twilight spread over the desert sky, and then it was absolutely dark.

There would be another intersection in about a hundred kilometers. Now that the problem was solved and we were really in the dark desert, and Barbara could indulge her death fantasies, I felt a strange mix of pleasure and concentration. I was certain we had enough gas and I felt confident, in spite of my tired, aching legs. My task was straightforward: I had to take her to the end of that ribbon of road, and in front of me was a scoreboard ticking off the remaining kilometers before the woman beside me gnawing on her hangnails would be happy.

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this trip.” Her voice was soft. “The car scares me, and this is no country to drive in.”