Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Unfamiliar Encounters




Mom is going to kill me. A car accident? What am I supposed to do? Stay in the car. No, that’s stupid. Get out. Oh no, the girl from the other car is getting out. What if she’s some crazy killer, like a modern-day Victor Kelly? There are people like that out there, in the right neighborhoods. Better said: the wrong neighborhoods. I need to lay off the murder novels. Resurrection Man had been giving me nightmares for a while anyway. Not everyone was bad. Just get out of the car.
With much hesitation, I unlock my door and open it, shaking. The girl is almost to my door. What am I supposed to say?
“Hey! I’m like so sorry.”
I was frozen, I couldn’t move. Was this my fault? Had a stopped short?
“Are you okay?” She dangled her keys in one manicured hand, the other arm was crossed across her chest. She looked about my age, and the Greek letters on her shirt indicated that she must have been attending college, whether it was local or far away, I had no idea; I didn’t care.
I shook my head to let her know that I wasn’t in shock, even though I was. She had a designer brand purse and high heels on. She looked like one of those girls that was handed everything in life, as long as she did what daddy said. Get these grades, apply and go to this college, major in this, and I’ll make sure you get a nice job at my law firm when you graduate. The best part is, you don’t even have to work through college.
Not me, my life wasn’t pre-planned out like that. I was walking blindly through life, never knowing where I was going to end up. The girl was still talking.
“…so I don’t think we should call the cops. Kay?”
“You hit my car. We have to call the cops.”
“But daddy will be so upset and it’s not like there’s any damage.”
“We don’t know that. We need to at least trade insurance information.”
I wasn’t in the mood to deal with this girl. I agreed and watched her zoom off in a car that probably cost more than a college education.
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“I’ll pay whatever damage I did. Just don’t tell the insurance companies or the cops.”

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Train Stop


The air outside was growing cooler and the breeze was blowing harder. 
I should go home. As I let my eyes take a final picture of the setting sun over the ocean, my ears caught the laughter of a small boy. He was with his parents. They looked like they had spent the day on the beach with their ivory skin turning red.
The boy looked like he was 10, full of life, and happy. He was innocent, unknowledgeable of so many hurtful forces of this world. I envied him.
"Alright, it's time to go," the boy's father said.
"But dad I don't want to leave," the boy replied.
"If we leave now, we'll have time to stop and get a churro."
Without a word, the boy immediately ran in between his parents, broke their united hands apart, and took his mom's left hand and his dad's right.
That boy must really love churros.

            I made my way up the sand, down the boardwalk, up the stairs of the 100-year-old parking garage, down to my car, Sabrina. The sound of the engine was no louder than usual, but it startled me. I had spent the day on the beach, which seemed to quiet down as time got closer and closer to sunset. I considered stopping for churro, but decided I wanted to get home, and I wasn’t in a position to be spending money needlessly. As I pulled around a corner, I saw that the light at the railroad crossing was turning red.
            Of course. My timing is wonderful. That light was almost always green, except when I wanted to pass through. I threw Sabrina into park and turned my music louder; trains can be really loud, and I found Mumford & Sons to be more audibly appeasing.


           
I let my mind wander, but it kept going back to the family I saw on the beach. They were so happy. Must have been on vacation. No one could be that happy in this town. Not me at least. I guess churros from that place on A1A made it slightly better. I couldn’t wait to break free from this town. To get my own place and start my own life.

My car thrust forward, just slightly. My heart felt like it had stopped. I was still in park. The train was still passing. A small silver sports car was in my rearview mirror. Should have gotten the churro.

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