Rearview Mirror

The engine rumbles to life under the soft patter of rain. Headlights illuminate a gravel driveway where the car shifts into drive. With a rushed movement, the driver adjusts her rearview mirror to reflect a worn door.

She slowly moves her hands back to the wheel, but her eyes stay latched onto the peeling paint of the door. Despite her tunnel vision, she sees a shadow in the upstairs window as someone moves about. The driver’s grip on the steering wheel turns her fingers white as she tears a heavy sigh from her lungs. Before the shadow can find its way downstairs the driver harshly pushes against the gas pedal. The small car roars to life and eats up the distance of the driveway. Pebbles knock against the sides of the vehicle as it turns onto the main road.

It’s not the sliding bags in the backseat or the growing distance to the house she practically grew up in that caused her jerky movements. She’s accustomed to stress, but this kind is sharper than the festering feelings of guilt that arrives whenever she leaves the gravel driveway.

The driver is reminded of her mother chastising her for driving while emotional but pushes aside the notion. Instead, she watched the yellow lines painted on the street pass her by at an increasing speed. Wind whistles in the window and raindrops coat the roof. The wipers wash away any that fall onto the windshield, but the driver finds herself wishing she could feel them on her skin. The cold water might shock her body into calming down so she could at least follow some of her mom’s advice.

Another wave of regret worms its way into the driver’s mind as she finally eases up on the gas pedal. A stoplight ahead shifts from a vibrant yellow to a red light that envelopes the car before it. It’s reflected off the puddles on the pavement and the fog that’s begun to roll in. The driver looks up at the hanging machine like it has wronged her as she fully presses on the brakes. The car comes to a halt at an empty intersection. While her vehicle quietly rumbles beneath her she drums her fingers on the steering wheel and shifts her gaze away from the light.

Oak trees rise to her right and cornfields take over the open land beside them. Their leaves rustle in the wind, and grass hides the frogs croaking somewhere in the dark. There are a few bushes lined up next to the road and two eyes peak out from their branches. Highlighted by the car’s headlights, the eyes judge the driver as she stares back. Upon reaching their decision, the eyes reveal themselves to belong to a possum as he scurries further from the road.

At that time, the stoplight flickers green. The color brings out the nature around it as it matches its hue. For a fleeting moment, the car stays bathing in the light. It’s not until a phone blares in the driver’s passenger seat that the peace is shattered.

The driver makes the wheels turn as she reaches for the loud object. She puts it on speaker and unceremoniously drops it in a cup holder. As the car accelerates it’s difficult to hear the phone but soon the tinny voice can be heard.

“Come back,” the speaker relays “I’m not sure what I said to set you off, but I’ll fix it. Come back.”

“I’m not going to do that, I’m sorry,” the driver replied shakily, and just as quickly as the words left her mouth the voice piped up.

“You can’t abandon me now of all times! I’d be lost without you,” The other line earnestly answered.

“That’s why! I-” the driver stuttered as she found her words, “Just go to your family, they can help you.”

“They don’t know me like you do! They weren’t there!”

“I’m just a reminder. Every time I try to help, I’m only leading you back!” the driver retorted while forcing her eyes to stay on the road instead of the rearview mirror. She imagined the worn door in the glass as her phone relayed their argument.

“That’s not true, you’re the one stable thing in my life right now!” The voice argued.

“I’m not holding you afloat, I am pulling you under.”

“Stop with the metaphors, I need you here. Right now.”

“You need to grow, and you can’t heal with me next to you.” the driver stated. She could hear movement on the phone as her friend searched for a reply.

“You’re wrong. If you do this, you’re worse than the people who stood by and watched.” Her friend firmly declared.

The driver sucked in a breath as the words sunk in. Despite the sound of the car and the animals outside, silence grew. When she replied her voice sounded much louder than it actually was, “When you totaled that truck there was nothing any of them could have done to prevent it.”

“Yet it was you who pulled me from the wreckage,”

“Because you’re my friend,”

“And now I need you to free me from the rest of the accident,” her friend pleaded.

“I can’t take away trauma.” the driver stated. “It doesn’t help every aspect of my life is a trigger for you. My keys remind you of the truck, my phone case reminds you of the 911 call, just my face reminds you of getting pulled from the wreck! Still, you’ve latched onto me like I can save you when all I do is give you a reason to stop trying to heal. I can’t save you anymore. That’s up to you, I’m sorry.”

“No.” her friend insisted. Her voice was the quietest it had been all night but it held a tightness to it, like she was grinding her teeth while she said it.

“You can learn to move past this. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No, I need you!” her friend shouts. The phone speakers crackle at her sudden volume but fail to hide the wobble in her voice.

“I love you,” the driver professes as she picks up the phone. A string of pleas erupts from the speakers as she clutches the device. Her eyelashes flutter as her vision grows blurry. With a soft tap, the call ends. The phone immediately erupts with the same ringtone, but it’s switched on to do not disturb and gently placed in the glovebox.

The frogs continue to croak, and the leaves continue to be rustled by the wind. Through her tearful eyes, the driver keeps her focus on the road ahead. Sometime in her conversation, the rain had stopped, and the clouds thinned. Fog not only reflected the car’s headlights but also the sunset behind her.

The driver noticed a barrage of color in her rearview mirror as she drove. Around the sun, orange painted the sky, and the clouds were tinted pink. The lower the sun went the more indigo took over as it welcomed in speckled stars. The driver let her shoulders drop at the sight and leaned her head against the headrest. She let her body unwind but kept a constant pressure on the pedal.

The distance grew and so was the time between the buzzing in her glovebox. The driver looked up at the moon as she imagined her mother’s house a few hours away. The woman who she’d argued many times over living away from home, would have a lot to say but she could visualize the homemade dinner they’d have their talk over. A soft smile found its way onto her face as she thought about her father helping her make her apologies. The only thing preventing the driver from speeding all the way home was the memories of concerts with her friend, quiet mornings spent at cheap diners, the old house with friends she could call family, and the sound of screeching metal as her friend crashed her truck.

One day she’d come back and try to rekindle the friendship they had before, but there needed to be time. Still, the notion fueled the trip home as the driver steered her car toward the horizon. Only the rearview mirror saw the sun dip below the Earth, and it collected the starlight as a new day began.