5 Stars

That familiar ping filled the cramped hallway, it was the only immediate sound against the music and laughs muddled in with the muted tones of chatter from the partygoers in the apartment above. 

“The Uber is here” said Claire to her two co-conspirators. They were already making their way down the damp carpet towards the shaking door aware that the message could only have been for their ride.

“It says he has a… disability,” she said, unsure of what to make of that information.

“What like he’s ‘tarded or something,” asked Max, he had been enjoying the booze the most and he often used his drunkenness as an excuse to say whatever insensitive things came to his infantile mind. 

“Or maybe he’s a midget, yo what if he pulls up in a fuckin’ clown car,” Kyle said whacking Max’s arm for punch. He was the least drunk of them but was higher than a weather balloon. These were clearly the funniest things they had heard all night evidenced by the round of laughing that turned into trailing hacks and wheezes. Their mothers must be so proud. 

“I don’t know, it didn’t give me his SAT scores or fighting class. Just pretend you’re someone with more class than a porno-cameraman,” she said closing this with a stress weighted sigh. She really had to get better friends, some with more than a single brain cell shared between them. She had just finished convincing them that Kyle couldn’t drive just because he was the least plastered among them, they needed to call an Uber, she was buying and for $14, why not?

She walked through Max holding the door open, sure to jab him quick in the ribs. They huddled under a battered awning which was barely doing its job but in its defense, this was the kind of downpour and that would have scared Noah. The rain was coming down so hard the ground was covered by 6 inches of tiny splashes from the drops ending on the asphalt and  joining the small puddles forming on every surface. 

She searched the street for their ride. All too aware she was in the center of some not so glorious city in some less than reputable neighborhood. She was more concerned about staying outside longer than they absolutely had to than staying dry especially on New Year’s Eve when all the drunkies would be out along with whatever problems they brought. She saw headlights round the corner and illuminate the three of them for a moment. The framed “H” confirming this was the Honda Civic she was expecting. 

She lead the trio out into the rain, hurrying along while tensing her shoulders and straining her head away from the rain in that futile don’t-get-me-wet hunch that all people seemed to have when exposed to torrential rain. After stepping over the black lapping stream that was the gutter, Claire opened the passenger side door to let herself in. This was not usually her preferred seat for Ubers but knowing the driver was disabled made her less concerned about what he would do and more concerned about what the other two would say given their state. 

“Hi, happy New Year’s,” the driver said as they climbed in.

“Claire right?”

“Yes, Paul?” She replied, already knowing damn right his license plate matched what the app had given her. 

“You got it.” their driver answered.

She closed the door and strapped herself in, her friends joining her in an uncoordinated chorus of slams and clicks. She looked over at her driver while wiping the rain from her eyes as her mind tried to grasp the dimensions of the man before her. 

In the driver’s seat was a man with a pair of too-thin-to-be-thighs stumps of leg hanging from his waist, knotted jeans with hollow boot ends confirming his leglessness. Complementing their driver’s lack of limbs were a few missing fingers on his right hand, she didn’t dare stare long enough to make out which ones and also something in the middle of his face that was a little less than a nose. She looked away from him keeping it slow enough to try and not show that she was genuinely shocked by his appearance. 

Stop being such a shit. He’s probably a veteran, survived a roadside bomb in some shitty place he never asked to be sent or something.

“It’s ok I don’t bite... or run,” their driver said with a friendly chuckle trying to soften the heavy air in his car aware they now had enough time to adjust their eyes and see his unusual features. This was probably his opening line for all his rides. He adjusted his rearview mirror to see the dumbstruck puckered faces of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum in the back bobbing in their less than sober states. 

“All set back there?”

The pair nodded while looking up meeting his glassy eyes in the mirror, one of them looked fake. Satisfied, Paul put the car into gear and confirmed where he was headed.

“15 Mott Drive in South,” he asked to nobody in particular. Some muted “mhmms” told him he was right and they headed on their journey leaving the slosh of a party behind and joining this sobering car ride. Claire wished she could trade the silent discomfort of the car for the crude comments of her friends back in the hallway. The faint music coming from the radio was playing something she recognized but was so soft she couldn’t get into it. The silence hung like a gutted carcass in the damp air of the car.

“Alright so you’re a man with a story if I’ve ever seen one,” said Max. The words beating Claire with physical pain as she tried to stuff her body into the folds of her seat, secondary embarrassment baking her like a car wash’s blast heater. Not knowing what to say to say she stuttered apologies out over each other, the right thing to say not obvious given the unique atmosphere. 

“It’s alright, everybody wonders about it. I’m practically a local celebrity,” he said flashing a smile that couldn’t have been anything but genuine.

“Look if you don’t wan-”

“Nonsense” he cut Claire off “you came into my car and it’s what’s going on right now, besides this is the perfect day to talk about it.” A bright tone in his last comment.

He came to a stop at the center of town beneath a redlight, a few cars passed through the intersection and disappeared past the brick buildings bookending the junction, their tires cutting through the puddles now providing a soundscape to his story.

“Car accident on New Year’s Eve… eight years ago now I think,” he said swallowing the silence of the car. 

This statement was too relevant to their current circumstances to cause anything besides a feeling of doom in Claire, suddenly hyper aware, looking around the road with four-wheeled threats in mind. Seeing nothing but a spitting black urban sea on display she looked back at the man whose face had now taken on the seriousness his injuries suggested he should have. 

The light now refracting green through the trails of rain on the windshield he took his foot off the brake and drove through the intersection down Main Street.

“A drunk driver hit me. Some guy was coming back from a party and was three times the limit when he blew a red light and creamed my car.” He let that hang in the air before moving on, they all kept still aware he was just pausing. 

“He rolled my car over at least twice and I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I was tossed around my car before flying through the corner of the windshield shredding my face and legs on the way out.” 

The tension in his words slightly lessened by his focus on the road ahead of him. Claire and Kyle both looked at Max, they were having a good time, now they were being confronted by the unintended consequences of this holiday. It was like watching an MADD ad in real life and it was unsettling.

“Doctors said my legs had lost so much blood they looked like rung out dishrags, there was no chance of saving them.” He finished his story, his other injuries not needing any further explanation.

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said.

“No really it’s alright, it happened so long ago I’ve gotten used to it now. Now I make a point to give rides every New Year’s Eve, keep the roads a little more sober,” he said beaming with a real sense of pride. Claire stared out across the windshield as each passing car gave her pangs of dread.

“Of course I couldn’t drive at all until I got these modifications installed to old Rhonda here.” he said tapping the shiny black plastic buttons on the center of the steering wheel contrasting its leather surroundings. His thumbs were doing all the work of the gas and brake. She had been so focused on his appearance she hadn’t considered how the fuck he was driving in the first place. 

 They made the final turn onto her road, relieved at last to shed the anxiety this trip had inflicted on her psyche. They rode the last few seconds in silence all were unsure of what to fill the vacuum with but so many questions ran through her mind. 

Had he been a father? A husband? Could he live on his own? How did he make enough money to get by? All these questions seemed too personal to ask, especially given that their ride was coming to a close and the final 100 yards of asphalt hardly left enough time to give an appropriate answer. She felt much more sober since getting into this car.

“Thank you for sharing your story with us, it’s great what you’re doing. My less than sober friend here was about to drive us all home but you made sure we got home safe.” Claire said as his front tires met the start of her driveway. 

“ So I’m sure you prevented at least one accident tonight.” She finished, a little pep forced into her statement and shot an accusing look into the backseat.

Slurred “goodbyes” and “thanks” came from the car’s back two occupants as they opened their doors and shuffled quickly out into the rain eager to leave this all too serious atmosphere. It was the story they needed to hear but not the one they wanted to. Claire was the final one to leave the car and enter the wet night waving goodbye to their driver.

“Stay safe” he shouted over the roar of the rain. 

She felt sorry for him most of all. She didn’t know what it was like to be him but knew his pleasant tone masked his actual feelings. She walked slowly back to her front door not minding the rain anymore as it ran streaks down her face. Looking down at her feet she slipped her light-blue canvas shoes off and exposed them to the bitter elements, a dull chill taking over her feet as she padded across her front yard towards her door. Before leaving her lawn and climbing the onto the stairs she stood there in the rain, present in the moment. Each drop landing on her face an event of its own. Her feet squished on the thick peat of earth under her heels. A gurgle of water strained out through the grass and mud running up through the cracks between her toes and rolled over onto the tops of her feet, blades of dead grass clinging to her soles. She sighed and took a step up the stairs and passed dripping through her front door where she looked back and saw that their driver had just begun to pull away.