A collaborative effort in creative writing. |
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September 2005 Collaboration Laura of Snerkology |
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The Life That Got Away By Laura Charon "I always wondered if I would be able to see the paths of my life, laid out before me," she said. "I always wondered if a change in the smallest detail or decision would lead my life down a very different fork in the road." "You can see that. It is all laid out here before you. It is done in this way." She was shown how to follow the different threads in her life's tapestry. |
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The pickup truck, worn with hard use but dependable, moved slowly along the arrow-straight road. The road went on that way for miles, but the woman driving could only see a few feet before her. Wipers moving across the windshield at the fastest setting were barely enough to offer the vision needed to keep the truck on the road. Sheets of water kicked up from the tires, blending with the downpour. The cab was warm and dry inside, and the woman sang softly along to her favorite cassette tape, also worn but dependable. The autumn rainstorm had a slight chill that had been absent over the humid summer months. The woman was tempted to crack a window to smell the fresh air, but decided against it as the storm kicked in a fresh burst of energy. Warm in her sweater, jeans, and boots, she smiled to herself with a quiet, comfortable feeling of peace. The music, the drumming of the rain, and the shoosh of the wipers combined to cocoon her in her own private world. It seemed she could keep on driving for the rest of her life and it would always be just this way. A dark, blurred shape distinguished itself from the sheeting water, at the side of the road. The woman squinted and tried to focus on the form as she passed it by. She wondered if it was a person, she wondered if she should stop. With a twinge of guilt, she faced the road once again and decided to keep going. She assuaged her conscience by reminding it that it just wasn't safe to pick up hitchhikers these days. After another couple of miles, she spotted a haven of greasy food and hot coffee; a roadside diner. Just the thought of a hot drink created an immediate craving, and the truck seemed to steer itself into the parking lot. She dashed from the truck to the entrance, shaking drops of water off of her hair as she walked in. A male voice called from behind her, and she turned to see a fellow patron running from his car. She stood aside and held the door wide, pushing it closed again as a gust of wind seemed to blow the man, and the rain, inside. The man smiled his thanks, and gestured to the woman to preceed him to the "Wait to be Seated" sign. The hostess questioned if they were together, and the woman responded that she just needed a table for one. Casting a sidelong glance at the man, she followed the hostess to a booth with rain-blurred windows overlooking the parking lot. She accepted the menu the hostess offered, and made a quick scan of it before deciding on a muffin and a cup of coffee. After she ordered, the woman took a moment to look around the diner. A few patrons were scattered around the dining area, and a handful of staff members sat at a large table filling condiment bottles, sorting silverware, and stuffing napkins into dispensers. In the corner by the cash register, the juke-box was playing the inevitable 50's-style music. She tapped her foot and hummed under her breath. Her coffee arrived, and, taking a gulp, she winced at the unexpected bitterness. As she poured a generous amount of sugar into her cup, she glanced up to see the man she had held the door for, looking at her and grinning. She smiled back, shrugging and wrinkling her nose at the coffee. The man stood and gathered his own cup. He approached her table and asked if he could join her. The woman blinked up at him, then gestured for him to take the seat opposite her. Later, that was the story she told her family, of how they first met. They parted ways, exchanging phone numbers and a tentative plan to meet again. He called her, and one date turned into three. Eight months after first meeting, the man and the woman married in grand style. The man invited all of his influential friends. The woman's small and close-knit immediate family was all but overcome in the crush. They moved into a magnificent home, and the woman was happy for a while. They laughed, they went on trips, they discovered each other's passions. The man worked late and spent hours brooding in his study, and the woman shrugged it off as a necessity to his job. His temper got shorter, and the woman tried harder to take all the stress she could out of his life. She gave up her goals and dreams, and settled herself into the full-time job of being his wife. Then, shortly into their second year of marriage, the man's facade began to crumble. A few cutting remarks lead to outright disgust as the man ceaselessly critiqued the woman. An occasional drink after dinner became several before dinner, and several more before bed. One day, he raised his hand to her. After the first time, it seemed to get easier for the man to reach the point in his anger where he struck her. She became the woman she swore she never would become. She endlessly sought to assuage her husband's anger, and tried day after day to live perfectly, according to his wishes. Each small success was met with a greater "failure" in his eyes. Another year went by, and the open-handed slaps became closed-fisted strikes. She didn't talk much to her family, anymore. A long time went by with phone calls rarely returned, and bright false answers of, "Everything's fine!" to her family's concerned questions. One day, an unexpected visit by her sister caught the woman by surprise. The sister saw the drawn face, the downcast eyes, the yellowing bruises. Aghast, she appealed to the woman to leave with her, and get away from the man's cruelty. The woman refused, insisting that the issues between her and the man were nothing to worry about. That night, the man came home in a white-faced, barely-contained fury. The sister had called his office. She was going to call the police, she was going to take the woman away from him, he would never be able to hurt anyone ever again. His crushing fist came down, again and again, breaking the fragile bones of her face. The man shouted at the woman, what did she say? Who did she tell? How dare she? She struggled to get away from his vice-like grip, which twisted the flesh of her skin until it burned. She pulled as hard as she could, and as his feet slipped on the polished wood floor, she made a desperate dodge toward the front door. Making it seconds before he caught up with her, she pulled it open and ran, her swollen eyes blinded by tears. The man stopped in the doorway, watching the scene unfold before him. The woman rushed headlong into the street, unaware of the traffic speeding toward her. Screeching tires, a crash, a thud. The woman's broken body lay in the street, the horrified driver of the car shouting at the man to call an ambulance. The man glared coldly at the driver, rested his gaze briefly on the body of his dead wife, then walked back inside his house and shut the door. |
The pickup truck, worn with hard use but dependable, moved slowly along the arrow-straight road. The road went on that way for miles, but the woman driving could only see a few feet before her. Wipers moving across the windshield at the fastest setting were barely enough to offer the vision needed to keep the truck on the road. Sheets of water kicked up from the tires, blending with the downpour. The cab was warm and dry inside, and the woman sang softly along to her favorite cassette tape, also worn but dependable. The autumn rainstorm had a slight chill that had been absent over the humid summer months. The woman was tempted to crack a window to smell the fresh air, but decided against it as the storm kicked in a fresh burst of energy. Warm in her sweater, jeans, and boots, she smiled to herself with a quiet, comfortable feeling of peace. The music, the drumming of the rain, and the shoosh of the wipers combined to cocoon her in her own private world. It seemed she could keep on driving for the rest of her life and it would always be just this way. A dark, blurred shape distinguished itself from the sheeting water, at the side of the road. The woman squinted and tried to focus on the form as she passed it by. She wondered if it was a person, she wondered if she should stop. She moved past the form, slowed, and pulled into the shoulder of the road. Her common sense berated her as she watched her rear-view mirror. She could see the form moving toward the truck, resolving itself into a very wet but grinning man as he approached the passenger door. The man shook his hair vigorously, sending drops of water all over the cab. He smiled an apology to the woman as she rubbed her sleeve against her now-damp face. He expressed his gratitude to the woman, who assured him that the ride was no problem, as long as he wasn't a rapist or murderer. The man half-chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at the woman to gauge how serious she was. He arranged his coat and shoved his backpack onto the floor at his feet. Nodding his head to the beat, he commented on the song that was playing, and the two of them fell into easy conversation. The man proved to be good company, and the woman didn't mind her little cocooned world now occupied by another. After a couple of miles, she spotted a haven of greasy food and hot coffee; a roadside diner. Just the thought of a hot drink created an immediate craving, and she made to turn into the parking lot. The man spoke, recommending that they continue driving to another diner he knew just a few more miles up the road. He convinced the woman with the assurance that his suggested diner had much better coffee. That's all the persuasion it took for the woman to continue along in the storm. They pulled up in front of another diner. Grinning and counting to three, the man burst out of the truck and ran to the door, followed closely by the woman. He grabbed the handle and pulled to open the door for the woman, but was surprised to find the door locked. He peered inside, shielding his eyes against the glass. To their dismay, the diner was closed. The man still had a smile on his face, and when the woman asked why, he said that he had a thermos of coffee and some cookies in his back pack. Dashing back to the truck, the woman fumbled a bit for the keys to unlock the door, laughing at the man's dramatic pleas to get out of the rain. She started the truck and turned up the heat while the man fished through his backpack and poured the coffee into the cup-fashioned cap. He offered the first sip to the woman, then took the cup himself and drained it. He refilled it and handed it back, then pulled out a short stack of cookies that he divided between them. Laughing and chatting, they sat in the truck and watched the rain come down. Later, that was the story they told their children, of how they first met. She dropped him off at his apartment complex once they reached town, and he asked for her phone number. For a long time, the man didn't call. The woman chalked the experience up as just a pleasant afternoon. Then one day, his voice replied when she picked up the ringing phone. He apologized, and she chided him in jest. He asked her on a date to make it up to her. From that date forward, the man and the woman were unseparable. The long engagement that followed allowed the man, who had no close family of his own, to become a part of the woman's family. When the day of their wedding arrived, the small ceremony held in the back yard of the woman's childhood home was all the couple could have asked for. In the beginning, they were as poor as church mice. Yet, the tiny home they moved into as newlyweds was warm and welcoming, and in later years they would always remember it fondly. They had similar interests, and the man insisted that he would support them while the woman pursued her chosen profession. They cared for each other, each giving and taking as was needed to balance out the busy times. The fifth year of their marriage brought two blessings. One was in the form of a business, which the man and the woman began in their home, but which quickly grew to require an independent location. The second was in the form of a much-anticipated pregnancy, and the woman glowed with happiness whenever she watched the man's awe-struck face as he held their little girl. No marriage is ever completely perfect, and theirs was no different. There were stony silences and noisy arguments. She refused to do his laundry after weeks of telling him to pick his socks up off the bedroom floor. He didn't fill her tank and stranded her at the grocery store, after constantly telling her to not let it drop so low. Some arguments they put behind them forever, some became recurring themes. But the warmth and friendship between them always saw them through the tough times. Life was constantly busy, with little time for vacations or relaxation. Yet the couple was very happy, and their little family grew by another girl, and a baby boy. They worked hard and enjoyed the fruits of their labors, and the days slipped by seamlessly and happily. There were dance recitals and soccer practice, company dinners and back-yard cookouts. The woman's family frequented their newly-built home, next-door to her sister and her sister's growing family. Cousins grew up together as siblings, with a large family lovingly looking after them. Sadness occurred in its time, as is always the case in life. The woman lost her mother due to advanced age, and her father shortly thereafter. The man, in his later years, succumbed to a serious illness from which he never fully recovered. The couple slowed down when they had to, and made the most of the "good" days. Their children took over the family business, and kept a watchful eye on their parents. One morning, as an aged grandmother, the woman awoke and turned to the man beside her in bed. He was very still, and when she touched his face, he felt cool. A sadness spread through the woman, but she smiled as her tears fell. She reached out and took the man's hand, then laid back and closed her eyes for the last time. |
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"Oh..." she whispered. "How complicated the possibilities of life can be! I made such a small decision, really, that had such a big impact on the direction my life took." "Yes. The other direction, good or bad, was the life that got away." |
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