My Wrecked Weekend

This story does contain wine, death, and car accidents. Viewer discretion is advised.

I pulled into the parking lot, turned off the ignition, and stared blankly out the windshield, my heart hammered like it wanted to jump right out of my chest.

“Just breathe,” I told myself as I leaned my head onto the steering wheel. I caressed my beloved white Volvo fondly. “Thanks, Betty. You got me through all that.”

It had been a bit of a harrowing journey to get here from New York City once I could finally leave the office. First bumper-to-bumper traffic, and then a Ford pickup had tried to run me off the road. Then I had to stop to pee on the side of the road and then a deer ran out in front of my car narrowly missing my bumper. My adrenaline was still coursing through my system. But I was here now, and that was the important thing.

It had been Justin’s idea to come to the Finger Lakes in New York. He had wanted to have a romantic weekend: just the two of us away from the craziness of life in the City. We had an apartment together, and a dog but we barely had enough time for each other, between work and his acting classes and my art classes and just, well, life in general. So, we thought a nice little vacation was sorely needed for both of us. I had been about to leave to meet up with Justin when my boss burst into my office and demanded this particular project before I could leave. Which, of course, he would do to me. I had sighed and phoned Justin to tell him to just go on without me, and I would meet up with him. Which had started this crazy journey.

I sat up straight, pulled my sun visor down, and fixed myself up in the tiny mirror. I blew a kiss to my reflection for good luck and got out of the car, stretching after so long in the driver’s seat. I walked towards the winery admiring the bright blue sky and wide open doors and windows to let in the summer air.

Red Newt Winery. One of our favorite lunch spots. Good wine and good food. The perfect place for lunch to start this relaxing vacation. I breezed through the front doors, almost running into a bachelorette party that was too drunk to notice me, and reached the back door to the balcony.

Justin sat in our usual spot just under an overhanging tree overlooking a stream in a gully. He was in matching cream-colored pants and jacket. Very summery. Very winery-chique. He even had a wide-brimmed wicker hat.

 He hadn’t noticed me yet. He also hadn’t noticed me see the ring box he pulled out of his coat, look at and replace. I stopped dead in my tracks. I don’t know what I had expected. He was everything I wanted. Stable, loving, protective, stable, no criminal record, stable, decent family, stable. I could marry him, right?

I turned on my heel, a white summer dress floating around me, and stalked to the bar. I leaned on it next to the bachelorette party which was too enamored with the winery list to notice my existence. I had to collect my thoughts before going out there. We had the apartment. We had the dog. We had the money. We had been dating for two years. This was the next step. Marriage? Babies? The 2.5 kids and a white picket fence. I should have expected this. So why hadn’t I? Why did I feel so blindsided?

The radio in front of me talked pleasantly about the weather (70s and sunny), traffic (a bad accident was blocking Route 14), sports (Yankees beat the Cubs), and news (train derailment caused loss of life and mass transit confusion). I looked into the mirror behind the bar and met my own eyes.

“You can do this. You can do this. Just say yes. You’ll be fine. Just. Say. Yes.” I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath to calm my racing nerves, and turned before I could second-guess myself. I sauntered over and sat in the chair that had been waiting for me.

“I’m so sorry I’m late!” I said as I sat. “Brandon needed that economics presentation immediately, of course, and Sydney was just being a talkative pain. I almost got into an accident! Two actually! This Ford cut me off, I almost killed a deer and I had to pee on the side of the road! It all just really put a damper on my mood. But I’m here now,” I sighed as I leaned forward to grab the glass of wine set out in front of me. I needed a drink. But my string of bad luck struck again. Before I could grab the glass, my hand twitched and it crashed to the table spilling white wine everywhere.

Justin jumped out of his seat like he had been shocked. He stared at the table before he grabbed napkins and wiped off his pants, glancing at the overturned wine glass. Some waiters came over and cleaned the table apologizing profusely, and talking about the wind and the floor shaking. Miraculously, not a drop of wine fell on me as I sat, stunned, staring at my betraying hand. The whole time Justin wouldn’t meet my eyes. Was he mad that I was late? Was he mad that I had spilled the wine? Was he mad that I had chosen work over him, again? Why wouldn’t he look at me?

Once everything was righted, with two new glasses of wine, he sat back down, again glancing at the wine glass almost worriedly like it might fall over at any moment. He took a sip of his wine, almost meeting my eyes but seeming to look at something behind me. I smiled, confused, and turned to look.

The TV above the outdoor bar was showing the accident on route 14. I turned back to him “Wow! That must have happened just after me! My road was clear!” But he seemed determined to give me the cold shoulder. He just pulled out his phone and looked at it.

“Look. I’m sorry I was late. I’m sorry I spilled the wine,” I said contritely. I couldn't meet his eyes. He just seemed so upset at my clumsiness. He put his phone onto the table and looked out over the balcony rail into the gully below He didn’t say a word, but sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. The silence stretched on before I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What is your problem?!” I finally challenged him, just before his phone rang and he picked it up hurriedly, almost fumbling it over the balcony in his haste.

“Hello? What? Wait. Slow down, Chris. What do you mean?” He said into the phone looking up into the limbs of the tree above us.

I sat, frozen. Chris was my father.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered as an icy chill slithered down my spine.

Justin’s face had grown paler the longer he listened. His eyes drifted back to the television. I turned and looked once again at the screen. They showed a close-up of the two cars involved.

One was a white Volvo sedan. A familiar “South of the Border” bumper sticker shone brightly among the mangled mess. The words “Fatal Accident” blazed on the screen.

I turned back slowly towards Justin who had his hand over his mouth before it slipped to the ring box hidden in his coat pocket. He hung up the phone and stared blankly ahead.

“Justin?” I said hesitantly. He didn’t react. Not a blink or eye flicker. Had he acknowledged me?

“JUSTIN?” I said a little louder, an edge of anxiety crept into my voice. Had anyone reacted to me since I've been here?

He still hadn’t answered me, as he pulled out the ring box and stared at it.

“JUSTIN!” I finally screamed leaning forward in my chair.

Justin didn't respond but tears had started streaming down his face as he stood abruptly and left the winery without a backward glance in my direction.

But I didn’t get into that accident. Did I? That stupid pickup hadn’t ACTUALLY driven me off the road, had it? I stared after Justin as the wait staff started bussing the table, not even noticing as they pushed my chair back in, through me.