It was a bad night to be out driving but William didn't have much choice.
He had to keep driving eastward, to his hometown.
Rain drummed on the windshield and seemed to mock him and his condition.
William found it creepy that the rain followed the patterns of his
thoughts, growing stronger as his mind pounded with remorse and easing
while he found more comfortable things to dwell on. At least he had some
time off work -- his boss awarded it for diligence -- which would do
wonders for his blood pressure.
The rain subsided but William's mind pitifully staggered. What kind of
husband leaves his home to drive thousands of miles and forgets to say
Goodbye to his wife? What kind of father is so cold as to leave on a trip
without even hugging his little girl?
The rain beat down harder, angrier. Road signs drifted by ominously on
the Nebraska highway; they told him it was too late to turn back, that his
wife and child would have to get by without him. Port Jefferson was the
his destination. Finally, after 30 years, he was going to visit his
mother's grave. She was so dearly loved by William and now he had the
chance to be a little closer again.
Whenever William thought about his hometown he got a tingling sensation
down his spine and he shivered. He didn't know why, really. He got a
mental picture of his home, although blurred by time; he could see the dark
blue wood panels making up most of the house, his bedroom window on the
second story, a single tree in the front yard and the thorny bushes
surrounding it. There was no fence in the front yard and it made the
entire picture look awkward and naked, as if thieves had stolen that part
from his memory but left it in his soul.
William tried to imagine various fences and gates guarding the yard: dark
blue ones, matching the house; stout white ones; even a row of hedges, but
none of the combinations would complete the memory.
The rain was shifting often; sometimes fierce, then dwindling and then
ferocious again. William wondered if the downpour as a whole was changing
or if he was simply driving through different layers. He decided that the
rain was constant and this made him complacent. But he didn't know why.
William spotted a pair of headlights in the distance. He hadn't passed a
car for hours. The approaching lights grew more intense, making William's
eyes dilate painfully. He squinted and tried to focus on the roadside,
holding his left hand up as a shield for his throbbing, teary eyes. Still,
the light enveloped him, encased him in a mold of stagnant energy. William
couldn't move.
The light evaporated just in time for William to helplessly watch himself
drive over the edge of a ditch. Everything fell silent as the car drifted
through the air. The passenger side was the first to hit ground. William
went unconscious as the car rolled upside down and rocked until stopping.
William squinted again, at the sun beaming off his side-mirror. It felt
good, like he was scratching an itch behind eyes, but the sensation rapidly
became numb. Numbness spread from his pupils to his eyelids, and from his
eyelids to his entire face. Soon, his whole body was numb, like his skin
was about six inches thick and made of rubber. William enjoyed the tingling
that followed for hours. With a blank, stale smile, William watched the
sunlight on the ground recede out of sight. He watched the stars develop
and fade away in his mirror.
Later, he watched the sunlight appear on the ground again and patiently
awaited its visit in the mirror. When it came, William was in ecstasy. As
the sun began its departure, William looked over to the interior mirror for
his own reflection but it wasn't pointed at him; a tree was in the mirror,
not William.
William pushed open the door and crawled out of his car. The first thing
he noticed was the sky; it was a reddish orange hue, as if the sunset had
bled into the rest of the sky. He admired the color for a moment and then
started out of the ditch. The climb out was effortless. At the edge, he
looked into the distance and saw a house. It seemed to balance on the
skyline, a silhouette on the warm horizon. The cogent heat from above gave
him energy; he had to walk to the house.
Parts of the house slowly came into view. The window on the second story
reflected a rosy glow from the sky. William remembered staining the
wallpaper in that room with crayons, and his mother yelling at him for it.
There was a full clothesline out front, with a particular pair of jeans on
it. They were William's favorite pair, although almost completely ripped
in half. The damage occurred while he was on top of a fence trying to
escape the neighbor's hound, unsuccessfully. William's mother was standing
behind those jeans, making sure they were securely fastened to the line.
She found the jeans to be improper but allowed William to wear them anyway
(with a grimace here or there).
William smiled when he saw the fence around the yard. It was a modest
fence made of a metal that seemed to contain the sky in it. Not the
ordinary sky, but the present one, exuding an inspiring surge of warmth.
William opened the gate and entered the yard. There was love here, and
William cried when he felt it. His mother walked to him and wiped the
tears from his cheeks and kissed him. She smiled when they embraced, and
cried. William would say goodbye to his lovely wife and child, in time.
|
