Scene from a Rearview Mirror
By Kevin S. Mahoney
I didn’t have
to stop for him. My light was off. I was just a few miles from the shop. My fare sheet was full enough that I’d be
taking a good haul home. I’d looked the
back seat over when I stopped for gas and coffee, and it was free of both puke
and dropped cell phones. The hand-off
would have been seamless.
But there was enough light over him
to see his shiner. And there was half a
sleeve caught in the edge of his suitcase.
His shocked face shone in the mercury vapor lamp, his stubble casting a
shadow down his neck. I couldn’t tell if
he was in trouble or merely running from it before I passed him by.
The light turned red at the
corner. I stopped. He started towards me. He wasn’t running, but he wasn’t moving with
any dignity either. The single suitcase
pulled him off center, but he squared his shoulders and was trying so hard. The light changed.
I took my foot off the brake. I was about to signal left and get out of
there, when his hand found the latch on the passenger’s side rear door. The door opened, but he didn’t pile in like
the drunks normally do, he just ducked his head in and tried to find my eyes in
the mirror.
“I have money,” he said. “I just need a ride across town.”
His voice cracked on the word
ride. It wasn’t panic, not quite yet,
but I could hear his breath whistling in his throat. His adrenaline must be pumping pretty hard to
make him sound so young. I waved him
into the backseat.
He slid his suitcase over behind me
and sat down. I turned my signal off and
pulled away from the intersection. I was
going to give him a minute to think.
Then, the back window exploded all over us.
“What the hell
is this?!” I said. I was accelerating,
straining to outdistance whoever had it in for him, my eyes switching to the
rearview mirror, then back to the road ahead.
There was an intersection in the distance; I made for it, even though I
couldn’t see anyone following the car.
“She said it
was mine. She just dropped it on me over
dinner when I noticed she wasn’t drinking.
When I told her I didn’t believe her, she hit me. Right in the face. After that, she came at me with the table
lamp. I got her to calm down. I promised her we’d talk about it in the
morning, like adults. But I couldn’t
sleep. I couldn’t. So when she finally started to snore, I got
up as quietly as I could and packed what I could get to without making any
noise.”
I didn’t know
what to believe. I guess it didn’t
matter. We were going to an airport, a
train station, or maybe a friend’s house.
But we were going to find an ATM first.
There was no way I was paying to replace that window myself.
Miscellany:
- This is my attempt at exposition as per the video here. I think Miss Harper's videos are great fun, and while I don't usually do the challenges, I thought I might try this one. The phrase I based the above on was, "I could have stopped at any time".
- This piece was written using my Pandora Neil Young Station and Guatemalan coffee.
- I used both the infodump (the passenger) and incluing (the driver) in this piece.
- Once again, comments are welcome. My email is thesagest77@gmail.com and my twitter handle is @TheSagest. Please forward all praise or gripes.
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