Driving--Story in many pieces
The world is different when you’re riding in a car down the freeway. Roll down your window and all you hear is the roar of the wind. But you look at the trees and the tall grasses growing in the median and none of them are affected by it. Stare out the window at the passing scenery and occasionally you can catch a glimpse of a simpler life. Deer bounding toward the protection of the trees, a hawk diving down on unsuspecting prey, a breeze rustling through the leaves. During the autumn, brilliant bursts of red and yellow mingle with endless shades of green. Climb to the top of a hill and look at the world laid out before you-untold stories are waiting to be discovered. “I’m driving in my car down the freeway. Singing a song that I make up as I go along. I’m really tired and if I were smart I’d pull over but I’m not so I’m singing badly at the top of my lungs with my window down. And I’m way off-key so if anyone can hear me I’m really sorry for you. LALALALALALALALA,” Roselle hollered. She had only been driving for two hours, but it had been a long couple of weeks. Two weeks ago, she packed up her car and headed west. No real reason, other than she had felt the ocean calling her. So she left her brain-cell killing job, the dreariness of a Midwest February, and drove off to California, to Marina Del Rey, to the Pacific Ocean. For the rest of her glorious vacation, she went to the beach everyday, laid out on her towel and just stared at the beauty of the waves continually kissing the beach and then receding back to the depths from whence they came. She imagined what lay hidden beneath those waves and longed to be able to dive off the pier and transform herself into a dolphin or perhaps a shark. A shark. A sleek, powerful, silent -*test*-('")imony to the power of the ocean and both the fear and awe we feel towards it. A Great White. That is what she wanted to be. Gliding over the ocean floor, fearing no other, free to go anywhere. She also indulged her child-like side, dreaming of mermaids and their kind playing among the schools of fish, darting in and out of forests of kelp. With a snap of their tails, they disappear, never to be seen by human eyes. Their hair picks up the filtered shafts of sunlight and their eyes glitter with laughter and impishness, and they have not the sligh-*test*-('") care in the world. That was what she really wanted to be. Beautiful, fun-loving, swimming, and, unfortunately, imaginary. Oh well. What can you do? As she sat in the sun, her pale, albino-like skin quickly turned bright red. It didn’t bother her though. She was quite used to sunburn, and though she knew it was bad for her, she enjoyed the change from white. And she loved the sun, the surf, and the sand. She belonged to the ocean. Even though she had spent her whole life in the Midwest and hadn’t been to the ocean until she was fifteen, she had always felt its pull on her. As a child, she couldn’t get enough of documentaries about ocean life shown on the Discovery channel. While other kids watched cartoons, she devoured shows about sharks, squids, and sea mollusks. It was only natural that she would drive for two days just to sit at the beach all by herself. Just her and the ocean. The part she loved most of this vacation was wandering down the beach at night, the moon glistening off the waves, the stars radiant against the black sky, and the ocean quietly singing to anyone who cared to listen. But like many things in life, this too came to end. Her soul refreshed, she paid a final visit to the shore, closing her eyes to imprint the sounds and scents firmly in her mind. Then she turned and walked back to her life.

After being on the road for a few hours, her mind began to face forward again. She thought of her fiancé who was waiting for her back at their apartment. She had wanted him to go with her, but he couldn’t take the time off. In a few months though, they would be going to ocean together, this time as husband and wife. She squealed with delight at this thought and pushed the accelerator. As anxious as she had been to get away, she was now just as anxious to get back. She drove almost non-stop from California to Minnesota, where she spent two nights and a day at her parents’ home. Now she is driving the last leg back to her love, the man who guided her through some of her darkest days and created the brigh-*test*-('"). She became impatient and annoyed at the thought that it would take her another three hours of driving before she could see him again, be held in his arms, and kiss those fabulous lips. Hence the reason why she could not just pull off the freeway and sleep; she had to hurry back because this separation now spurred her on and she could not deny its urgency. “Oh how I wish I were home now! I really really really want to be off the road! My butt aches from sitting for so long, I wish we had transporters like in Star Trek! Lalalalalala. I really can’t sing but that’s ok because no one is here to hear me! Oh my gosh, that is a really dead animal!”

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you fucking hit that thing!” crowed one of the three guys crammed into a packed Ford pickup. The college roommates were on their way to Madison for a four-day weekend of hard partying. At least, that’s what two of them were planning on. Thank goodness for college, the only time you can really create your own holiday. Derek and Andy had known each other since elementary school. They had grown up playing on the same Little League teams, the same peewee football teams, the same hockey teams. Sports tied them together. It was only natural that they’d go to college together as well and continue their sports career there. They loved football and enjoyed going to a small school were their mediocre talent did not get in the way of being on the team. In the back of their minds, they knew that they had no chance of making it to the pros, or even the minors. But classes held no interest for them. Sure, they showed up for class, but rarely could they concentrate. So they treated their college courses the way they had treated their high school classes-nap time. Their first semester hadn’t gone very well, but neither of them had failed anything. Although Derek was beginning to think the story might be slightly different this semester. Oh well, he would pull it off. He usually did. Jason did not fit in well with the two long-time friends. It had been an odd couple of months so far. They were nice enough to him, but he could easily tell they still viewed him as an outsider. Jason had transferred to the school after Christmas and was still trying to get situated. Living with these two guys took a lot of effort. While their lives revolved completely around sports, Jason’s revolved around writing. Sure, he watched a game or two on Sundays during football season, but he couldn’t tell the quarterback from the punter. But he did not fit into the “creative” crowd at his school either. He just couldn’t follow their lifestyle. He had no desire to go shopping at second-hand stores to create his own artistic look. He did not care about clothes one way or another. When he needed something, he just went to a store and bought whatever the mannequin was wearing. Pretty simple. And while he had a deep interest in world events, he doesn’t feel the need to attend (or create) a multitude of rallies and pro-*test*-('")s. No, for him, his writing is personal. Few people knew he did it. Sure, his professors would remark that his papers read well and he definitely came in above the majority of his peers, but that remained the extent of his exposure. He didn’t care about getting published or getting his name out there. For him, writing was just a necessary part of life. Words and ideas built up in his mind until they threaten to burst unless he writes them down. Sometimes the muses woke him up in the middle of the night or started calling during class. Seldom could he resist their call. He had notebooks filled with vague ideas, half-written stories, and unfinished poetry. From time to time, he returned to them, and sometimes he could even finish them. But he is not driven like the creative crowd. He just knows that writing has to be a part of his life and even his three-sentence stories fill him with satisfaction.

He did not really understand why they had invited him along, and even less why he had agreed to come. Actually, that’s a lie. He did know why he agreed. He had heard Melanie say she would be spending her weekend in Madison and he hoped that maybe, by some lucky coincidence, he would see her there, spend some time with her. And since there would, without a doubt, be much drinking involved, if he made a complete fool of himself, she probably would be too drunk to remember. That’s what he told himself. He could not stop thinking about her. Fiery red hair, made all that much brighter next to her pale skin. Sharp green eyes that flashed when she laughed, which was quite often. He had a couple classes with her, but they rarely talked. Anytime that he got near her, his brain would shut down and he could only mumble a quiet hello before his cheeks would flare red and he would have to retreat in shame. But if he saw her in Madison, he would finally redeem himself. “God, I fucking hate driving behind slow people. Don’t they know that the speed limit doesn’t matter on the freeway?” Derek grumbles, and he pulls into the left lane.

“Jackass,” muttered Lily to the Ford pickup that had been riding her tail. The driver apparently just discovered that there are multiple lanes and finally pulled around to pass her. Going sixty-five miles per hour was in no way enjoyable for her, but her car was old and shuddered when she tried to push the accelerator a little farther down. And she wanted to go fast. Never before had she wanted to buy a new car that could 120 or faster. She had to get back home. Life was fucked up. A few hours ago, she had been a regular college girl. Class had just ended and she had been laughing and joking with her fellow sorority sisters. She answered her cell-phone still giggling and not really paying attention. Then those five words: “Come home, I need you.” The voice sounded broken and lifeless, as though all emotion had been drained from it. The pain had been so great that it left only a hollow shell where a person had existed. A long-ago close friend from home-they hadn’t spoken for two years, much less seen each other. But the moment Lily heard her voice, those years disappeared and she knew she had to go. She had no idea what had happened-Elise simply uttered those words and hung up. Of course Lily had tried to call her back, but only got voicemail. She had been driving for a little over an hour now and only had forty-five minutes, roughly, before she’d be home. She just hoped she wasn’t too late. “Come on, come on little car. Go faster. Shuddering be damned, I’m speeding up.” And hesitantly, the needle inched its way towards eighty-five. A police car enters the freeway. Slipping out from the median, it glides effortlessly, a blue Mako amid a school of bait. The tension becomes immediately evident as red lights flash. The fish are wary; they know the predator can attack at any moment. A wide berth is given, yet there is nowhere to escape. Finally, someone, either brave or stupid, decides to -*test*-('") its intentions. Quickly, he speeds up and darts around the blue. But the teeth are bared, red appears, and the predator gets his prey.

“No no no no no no. Please, please turn off. Go away, I’ll slow down, I promise. Just turn off!” Lily pleaded with the little orange “Check Engine” light. The car had been pushed too far, it could not comprehend that someone needed help and it was the vessel chosen to deliver that help. All it knew was that something was wrong and it could no longer go on like this. Lily’s eyes began to mist up, this could not be happening. Not now. She was in the middle of nowhere. She thought of calling her dad and asking him what she should do. But she was an adult now, in a manner of speaking. She should be doing things herself. However, she didn’t have a clue what to do. The engine wasn’t overheating; she turned the heat on anyway. The oil light hadn’t turned on; she wanted to check regardless. The only problem is she couldn’t stop. Not on the side of the freeway. The light turned off. “Oh thank God,” she said. Just as her heart began to return to normal, it turned back on. “Dammit!” she yelled. Now what should she do? Then, a miracle. A bright blue sign: “Rest Area 1 Mile.” Alleluia. She pulled into a parking space and turned off the car. Finally, the light is off for good. At least, until she turned the key again. She sat in the car and leaned her head against the steering wheel. Time ceased for her at that moment. Though she could hear children yelling, dogs barking, and cars coming and going, they all seemed to be operating in another place, another world, another time. They did not share the same place as her. Finally, after a few hours or only a few mere seconds, she sat up, grabbed her purse and headed inside. In the bathroom, she splashed some cold water on her face and attempted to calm down. Slowly, she walked back toward her car, bargaining with God: “Ok, I know I was going too fast. But I promise, if You miraculously fix my car so that the light doesn’t turn back on and it doesn’t break down or anything like that, I won’t go over seventy. Ok, I might go over it, but I won’t sustain it. I promise. Please, just let me get home without anymore problems.” She unlocked the door, slid in, arranged her seat and mirror, put her seat belt on, and put the key in the ignition. The moment of truth: she turned the key. So far, nothing. She put it in reverse and slowly inched her way back towards the freeway. Slowly, she pushed the accelerator. Forty, forty-five, fifty, no light. She began to breathe a bit more easily. Up to seventy-no light. “Oh, thank you God,” she said. And, true to her promise, she set the cruise control to sixty-seven.

Hey Jason, do you know anyone you can stay with in Madison?” Derek asks. Jason inwardly panicked. He did not know anyone who lived there. So these idiots planned to just dump him in the middle of the city? “No, although I’m sure I could find someone after enough drinks,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant. “Haha. He’s just kidding. We know some guys who have a house that we can stay at. It won’t be a problem. But hey, maybe that Melanie girl will be there and you can just go back with her,” Andy joked. “Haha, yeah, maybe,” Jason weakly responded. He had no desire to get into that with those morons. Oh, how he hoped that she would be there. Then he could just stay with her, get a ride back with her and her friends, maybe. Anything would be better than this. How much longer would this ordeal last? “Ohhhh, why are we slowing down? I just want to go home,” Roselle moaned. Brake lights flashed on and off and then finally stayed on. Traffic crawled to a complete stop. “Ugh. This sucks. Where do all these people come from anyway?” She had long grown tired of singing and her voice now sounds hoarse and raspy. Still, she tried to keep herself awake and entertained. Now that no one is even moving, this became an even more difficult challenge. Ten minutes passed. They hadn’t moved an inch. People put their cars in park and stared out across the empty frozen fields. A lone crow circled out to the north and then disappeared into the trees. Roselle congratulated herself on stopping to fill up on gas a few miles back instead of trying to see how far she could go before it reached E. “What to do, what to do,” she sang under her breath. Maybe she could write something. But she had neither something to write with nor something to write on. Mental writing. She would forget it later, she knew, but it would keep her busy. Ok. Now, what to mentally write? Poetry, maybe. As she threw together little phrases “navigate across my skin” “dreams that cannot compare with the happiness of our reality” her mind wandered again to her fiancé. She remembered the night he proposed, how utterly different it had been from anything she had expected and so completely wonderfully perfect. She reveled in that moment again and again. She hated telling people about it though. It seemed as though words diminished it; they could not capture every detailed, every word, every thought never spoken but unquestionably understood. It seems odd to her that such a private moment carried an expectation to be so public. So many times, people just do not understand. “You’re so different, you’re so different,” she constantly heard. They mean well, she knew. But how to explain to them? Yes, he has different ideas, different interests but one of the great things about their relationship, as he had once told her, is that they could get each other interested in things they normally would shied away from. Besides, different is necessary. Balance is key. Everything in nature has its pair, its opposite, and it is those opposites that give them strength and encouragement to be themselves. “Ugh. I am so tired of just sitting here! Hmmm, that’s an idea,” she said as a Ford pickup flew by her, driving down the snowy median.

“Oh my gosh…why is this happening?” Lily moaned. The agony of not knowing why she had been called home was tearing at every nerve. The longer she sat in that car, not moving, not even with the hope of possibly moving soon, the closer she got to losing it. “Elise, call me, please,” she whispered. Her phone rang. Her heart jumped into her throat. “H-hello?” she choked out. “Lily?” a weak voice answered. “Elise! Where are you? What’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Are you ok? I’m coming home, I’m just stuck on the freeway.” “Lily. I’m ok. I mean, I will be. Really. I’m sorry. I know it is selfish of me to expect you to drop your life and come home like this. I really am sorry. It’s just that I need you. I want to tell you everything. But I can’t do it over the phone. I’m sorry. I know this must be hard, I just, I can’t. I can’t, you know? I try to speak, I try to tell you, but the words get lost and mixed up. I just wanted you to know that I’m not in any immediate danger or anything. I can wait. I can. I-I just need to see you. Ok? I’m sorry that I got you so worried,” Elise said, her voice constantly changing tone, pitch, and volume as she spoke. “Ok. I’m glad you called. I really am. You have no idea how worried I’ve been, how worried I still am. But it’s good to hear you speak. I just wish this fucking traffic would move! I don’t understand. Why are we stopped?” She looked out her window as a Ford pickup drove by in front of her along the snowy median. “Hey, Derek, are you sure this is a wise idea? I mean, really, we should probably just wait in traffic like everyone else. Madison isn’t going to disappear or anything, and I have serious doubts that they will ever run out of alcohol,” Jason said, visibly uneasy. He did not care what his roommates say; this was just plain stupid. Whatever the cause of the delay was, it was probably big enough to warrant the arrival of the police, and it would be hard not to notice a pickup driving along while everyone else was stopped for miles. Besides, he did not have much confidence in Derek’s driving ability on the road, much less on a median covered in snow and ice and with a bit of a ditch in the middle. “Oh shut up Jason. This is much better than sitting behind all those other losers. By the time we get to the head of the line, the cops will have cleared out,” Derek yelled back. “I don’t know, maybe he has a point. We’re a lot farther ahead now. Why don’t you try to merge back in?” asked Andy, getting a little nervous himself. “God, what is wrong with you two? I should’ve just left you back at school.” “Holy shit,” whispered Jason as they came upon the reason for the wait.

She does not understand. She is driving along with no problem. She is fine. All of a sudden, she begins to feel queasy and dizzy. She thinks she has to pull over. She is in the middle lane. Then the blackness closes in on her. She has to get over right away. The darkness closes around her. She wakes up. She cannot feel anything. Her vision is fuzzy, she cannot focus. She hears noise, but it is muffled, as though she is underwater. Her windshield is broken. She is under something. She looks through a haze of red. Tires. Lots of tires. Like a semi. How could she be under a semi? Her head hurts; she fights in vain to understand what is going on. Lots of lights, flashing around her. She turns her head and watches the setting sun. Soon, she will set as well. Twilight tiptoes through the land. Slowly, so one is not even fully aware, she makes her appearance. The shadows become longer and longer and reach towards one another. The sun creates a final dazzling combination of colors before taking his place beneath the horizon. The bright blue sky changes to orange and yellow, then darkens to a brilliant shade of red, then leisurely drifts back into the blue spectrum. Twilight finishes the transformation, turning the sky to darkness so that the moon in all her splendor shines that much more brightly. She sees everything. Some stories continue on their way, others are just beginning. But, as the world requires, some are ending.