Traffic Troubles and Dad Drama

“Don’t make me stop this car!” 

Helen’s squeaky voice pierced the loud noises coming from the backseat of the van. Immediately, her children fell silent, fearful of their mother’s wrath. She had been tense for the entire six hours they had been on the road, and they didn’t dare make it worse when they had several more hours to go. 

Rubbing her temples, Helen stared out the window at the sea of red taillights, the never-ending line of traffic that was promised every Thanksgiving weekend. This year, Patrick had convinced her to go visit his parents in Georgia, and, like an idiot, she had agreed. 

They never liked her, and she had been awkward and uncomfortable the entire time. Now, she was stuck driving back in this horrible traffic by herself, and she sighed irritably. 

It was all his fault, anyways. 

There was a wreck on the side of the road, stopping all cars within ten miles of the site. It was a horrible scene; a large, neon green truck had crashed into the back of a small black car. The driver was obviously drunk, stumbling around as police tried to keep him away from the highway. 

A few other officers were comforting a family of three that stood on the side of the road, all wrapped in blankets to keep warm while they gave their statements. The front of the truck was dented, but the entire back of the car had been ripped away. Even from a distance, Helen could see their suitcases poking out of the holes in their trunk. 

She shook her head as she watched the cops mill about the wreck, bathed in the telltale red-and-blue lights flashing brightly against the dark autumn sky. 

“Great,” she groaned inwardly. “We’re never going to get home at this rate.” 

Right on time, her youngest chimed up from behind her headrest. 

“Are we there yet?” 

“No, honey. Not yet.” 

She patted Patrick’s hand on the seat beside her, although it was mostly for her own comfort. This family would drive her insane one day. 

He had been quiet for the entire drive, and she wished that she could vent to him. That he would comfort her.  Even just a glance or a hand on her knee. 

Predictably, he didn’t move a muscle, and she sighed as she relaxed against her seat. 

They had fought on vacation, just a petty argument about what time they had to leave the hotel – and now he was still; so still she was confident that he wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon.

They inched closer and closer to the wreck, boxing in by other cars trying to get as far away as possible. Being surrounded by so many other people made her uneasy, but she just tried to relax as she turned up the radio. No sense in being uncomfortable if they were going to be stuck here for a while, and she just hoped that her plans wouldn’t be completely ruined by some idiot rear-ending her in all this traffic.

“Christmas music this early?” she grumbled to herself as she turned up the radio, the soft sounds of “Silent Night” drifting through the speakers. 

Navigating the large minivan wasn’t easy, but she managed to maneuver into the far left lane right in between two semi-trucks. 

As she creeped forward, she realized that there was only silence in the backseat. She glanced behind her and smiled tiredly at the scene. 

Her daughters were asleep, both little girls heaped onto one another in a pile of limbs and brightly colored winter jackets. 

“My beautiful girls,” she thought gently. 

Stretching back, she brushed the hair from her daughters’ faces, blonde hair falling out of their knit hats. She knew it was Georgia, but it would get colder as they got closer to home, and she knew she wouldn’t have the heart to wake them up when they got home to put them on. 

Hopefully, it wouldn’t be snowing when they returned; it was only November, but Michigan got cold early, especially this year, from what she had heard on the radio so far. 

She glanced back over to her husband, her smile dimming as it was replaced with a determined frown.

“There’s no reason to worry,” she reasoned to herself. “We’ll be home soon, and we’ll all make up and get back to being a happy family again.” 

She patted his shoulder, and he fell against the cold window with a thump. His lifeless eyes gazed out of the window, unseeing as Helen hummed Christmas melodies underneath her breath. 

She might have been a bit impulsive on holiday, but killing him hadn’t seemed like a bad idea at the time. He had just been so angry, getting in her face and shouting in the parking lot. All she could think of was her girls, asleep in the hotel, and she had hit him across the face with a rock by her feet. She had just wanted it to stop, for their sake if not for hers. 

Now, they couldn’t argue anymore. 

The girls had asked why dad was already asleep in the car when they were packing, of course, but their cares were dismissed with a wave of the hand and a flimsy excuse. They believed that daddy was just tired from the long drive, and she had another few hours to find a way to explain it to them. 

Then, there were the neighbors to deal with, but that wouldn’t be hard. All she had to do was bury him somewhere close by and create a sob story about how he had just up and left them, and they would eat it up. They were all vultures, waiting for some innocent victim in their neighborhood to offer false condolences and to use for more gossip when their normal stories became too boring for the PDA meetings.

But for now, they sat in traffic, bathed in the red lights and the warm sounds of the radio as they inched forward toward home. 

She didn’t have to deal with trips to his family’s Thanksgiving dinners anymore, and she was thankful for that. Next year, they stayed in Michigan with her family. 

It was a happy holiday, indeed.