Get In, Sit Down, and Shut Up

Here is day 4 and I am still doing it.  Surprising to say the least.  But I do feel myself pulling away.  Although, why I don’t know.  Is it because of the pressure I am putting on myself to perform?  Or that there is a quasi audience reading what I write, judging me.  Or is it because I’m just a lazy fuck?  The world may never know.

In all honesty I should have done this earlier in the day.  I’ve been bored watching television and stuffing my face with the holiday cookies my husband made last night.  He’s been really busy the past few days, which left me alone to my own devices. 

I had attempted to continue reading about druidism but it was throwing so much information at me that I thought I was going to die.  Eesh.  But once the husband goes back to work and thus leaving me all alone, I’ll pick it back up.  Plus I need to read a book a month, per my year long goals.

Year of Writing Prompts by Brian A. Klems & Zachary Petit
January 4
365 Days
Something life-altering happened.  As a result, you’ve decided to give something up for an entire year.  Write a scene detailing the cataclysmic event, or the struggle to keep the vow you made.

 

I stood staring at the car, parked in the driveway.  It was covered in a thick layer of dust, that some punk from the neighborhood had decided to scrawl obscene words in, along with the images of dicks and even a pair of boobs.  Any other time I would have been furious.  I had loved my car.  It was the lover and friend I had always wanted.  Loyal.  No one drove her but me.  Now, I couldn’t care less what happened to her.

Ever since the accident I can’t bring myself to sit behind the wheel once again.  My girlfriend says that I’ll get over it, in time, but I’m not so sure.  It’s been a year since the incident and I still don’t even feel comfortable in a car, let alone drive one myself.

Angela walks up behind me and drapes and arm around my neck.

“What’re you doing, honey,” she says.

I lower my head.  For some reason I can’t bring myself to tell her that I had gotten the urge to try and drive down the street.  Maybe it’s because it would give her hope that I didn’t feel ready to give. 

I look into her sapphire eyes.

“Just wanted to get some air.”

She hugs me tighter.  With a peck on the cheek, she feels satisfied and turns to go back into the house.

I slowly walk around the front to gaze at her other side. 

The body shop did an amazing job.  No one would ever know that a Ford Bronco had t-boned me in the intersection.

A faint memory flashes through my mind of he headlights getting brighter and the deafening crunch of our cars colliding.

I stumble back out of breath.  I double over and try to catch the air that has left me.

I still don’t know how I survived.  By all accounts I should have been crushed.  When I replay it I just hear sounds.  No other details come to mind.  It was like my brain had put me into suspencion to protect myself from the crash. 

The next thing after the lights, that I remember, is waking up in the hospital days later.  The doctors were afraid I’d never wake up.

The doctors released me into my own care, but what they failed to realize is that I would be consumed with fear whenever in a vehicle.  I close my eyes and tense my body every time I go through an intersection.  Every car that waits until the last minute to stop will surely collide into me.  I just know it.

My heart begins to race.  I was stupid to even try.  I turn and head back into the house.

Halfway up the walk I hear Angela’s scream.  I rush up the rest of the way, throw oopen the door and find my girlfriend sitting on the kitchen floor, blood all over the white linoleum.

“What happened?” I say.

“I’m such an idiot.  I dropped the knife and it went right through my foot.”

She’s clutching her bare foot, the bloody knife only a few feet away. I rush to the drawer with the tea towels and grab everyone of the neatly folded cloths. I drop to my knees and begin wrapping them around her foot.

“You need to take me to the emergency room.” She says.

I look up at her.  My eyes are wide and my mouth is open. Very slowly, I shake my head no.

“I’ll call an ambulance.”

I stand up, but she grabs me around my arm and stops me.

“Are you insane? We don’t have that kind of money.  This isn’t that bad.” She says. “You can do it.”

I look at her.  I want to tell her know.  But her eyes plead with me and I can only agree.

I scoop her up into my arms and take her outside.  I don’t even bother to lock the door behind me. 

I gently lay her in the passenger seat and rush around the nose of the car to the driver’s side. I stop only inches from the repaired handle.

“Hurry, Jon,” she says, “I’m getting blood everywhere.”

I scream from the deepest part of my chest and pull open the door and toss myself inside.  She starts up instantly, like she was waiting for me.  Carefully, so carefully, I back out the driveway and head for the emergency room.

“You’re amazing.” She says.

My hearts pounding in my ears.  I can barely focus on the road and all I can think about is she did this on purpose.