Gone With the Wind

“Are you coming tonight?”

The words echo through my head. 

Aimlessly, I lean down on the steering wheel, my car’s horn joining the chorus of other horns. My mind is dull; frozen in a state of shock. 

“Are you coming tonight?”

The words still echo through my head. 

A tear makes its way out of my eye, landing on the resume on my lap. I silently watch as the drop expands on the freshly printed paper, wilting the edge and making lines unreadable. The tears start rolling down my face now, as if a dam inside of me has broken.

I can’t see, and I frantically wipe my eyes as the traffic moves forward. 

My leg lightly touches the accelerator, as if it’s taboo. Maybe it is taboo now, for me at least. 

I lean back in the seat, letting the smooth leather press against the back of my head. 

Instantly, a flood of memories takes hold of me.

“Are you coming tonight?” I jeer at him, only able to make out his silhouette in the moonlight. He doesn’t respond, and just stares at me amidst the night.

I move closer to see his face. He looks uncertain, and his face is twisted into a mixture of dilemma and anticipation. He looks back into the doorway, as if waiting for approval from his parents. He hesitates, but then grabs his jacket and comes outside. He makes his way to the driver’s seat door handle, which we both grasp at the same time. The warm hand and the cool metal makes me shiver, and I look up at him, making my way to the passenger door. 

We sit for a moment, admiring the handsome piece of machinery that we’re engulfed in.

“Ready?”

“I was born ready.”

He waits a moment, and then without warning, he accelerates, pressing my back against the seat. Everything is a blur of color: the streetlights, pedestrians, and traffic signals. 

Blood rushes to my head, making me feel dizzy and uneasy. 

I watch the speedometer steadily rise, along with my anxiety. 

“I think it’s about time we slowed down.”

He acts like he doesn’t hear me, too busy enjoying himself. 

I close my eyes tight, and grit my teeth.

Suddenly, the sound of brakes squealing fills the air. My eyes flutter open instantly, and I scream. 

The jarring sound of the car horns awakens me from my trance. I instinctively place my foot on the accelerator, inching my way through the traffic. Commuters give me dirty looks as they drive by, but they don’t understand what I’m going through. 

I breathe heavily, as if I’ve just run a marathon. I feel like throwing up, and the new leather smell does nothing to help me. I close my eyes to calm myself down, and then I’m shaken back into the moment, the squealing of brakes filling the air yet again. 

The scene comes into clearer focus, with the woman pushing a stroller in front of our speeding car. 

The car swerves and crashes into a divider, flipping over. I’m thrown in my seat, but the seatbelt keeps me from flying out. Eventually, the car stops rolling, and I’m able to concentrate. Blood is running down the side of my cheek, and my head feels like it’s been split open. I look to my left. He’s not there. 

I begin to cry. I’m unable to get out, and my life is ruined. 

The next part is a blur: The ambulance arriving, me being rescued, and seeing...his body, covered in a white cloth, hidden from view. 

Eventually, the tears stop. They have fallen everywhere, including the interior of the brand new car. The brand new car. To replace the other car. To replace a person. To replace an accident. To replace… a death.

I look to my right, just like how I did that night. I see him. He’s there now. He turns his head to look at me. His face still looks happy, just like when we were best friends. That night, with him being flung out of the car, and his head injury. The blood spilling all over the pavement. The woman and the lifeless toddler lying down, dead on impact. I can never take the image out of my head. 

“Are you coming tonight?” he asks, in the same tone as that night.

Tears start falling down my face once again. But they hit differently. 

“Do you regret what you did?”

“Not at all.”

“You killed yourself, a woman, and her defenseless child.”

“It was a cool way to go. You think it was an accident?”

There’s a moment of silence as a process of what just happened.

My throat closes up, and I can’t speak. 

Creases begin to form at my eyebrows, and I have a buildup of rage.

He then breaks into a smile, and a slight one begins forming at the corner of my mouth, too. 

“You seriously believed me there for a second, didn’t you? 

“Are you coming tonight?” he asks again, in a sentimental tone. 

“Sure,” I reply. 

He vanishes, and I’m left alone to brood. I take out my wallet and stare at the picture inside of it. My wife. And my son. 

Their faces look so happy, nothing like what they did that night. When they were on the pavement. Bleeding and unconscious.

My whole life has been torn apart. Instinctively, I look to my left, to see if my wife’s there. The pain is immeasurable, and my life has been torn apart. Stretched, ripped, and cut to the point of no return. The traffic finally clears up, and I drive slowly and aimlessly to my office. 

People shoot me dirty looks as they drive past me, but I know that there is no point in moving quickly. There is no point in being here at all. I take a different turn and drive to the waterfront, where the city’s skyscrapers look out over the ocean. I get out of the car and breathe in the air. I sit down on the wall, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my face. 

And slowly, just like the wind, I disappear.