Happy New Year's

Happy New Year

           She entered the lobby and looked out the door. It had just started raining. Raining in December? No snow, no sleet, just rain. It was just cold enough that it might turn to ice.  Some people thought rain was good luck, that it meant a fresh start and growth and whatnot. Jess had never been one of those people. Rain meant she would get wet and the roads would be dangerous. She glanced at her wrist, at the analog watch. 11:27. Just enough time for the roads to get icy and dangerous when most everyone else would be heading home. She was smart to leave early. Besides, it was a work party and she was alone. There was no point in staying there until midnight. She climbed into her car, her shoulders damp, and reflected of the torture that had been 2019. The only thing she was grateful for was 2019 would be no more. 

           She turned on her lights and pulled out onto the road, thoughts of returning home and watching the ball drop with her cat filled her head. This New Year was going to be better than last year at least. Last year, she’d spent the holiday in the hospital with her mother, the first terrible event of 2019.

           Almost one year ago, her mother died. She saw the frail, thin woman lying on the bed with the rough hospital blankets covering her. She knew she should remember the good times and forget these bag ones, but it had been so long since her mom had been healthy, since she was her mom.  It seemed like all of Jess’ memories focused on quiet moments stolen between the steady beeps of machinery and the constant stream of medical staff interrupting. How are you supposed to grieve and move on, when the woman who died wasn’t Jess’ mom, hadn’t been in some time? When had she actually left? It was hard to tell, but likely some time between the first stroke and the second. Her mom has evacuated her body, allowing some one else to take over, much like the vampire legends.

           Jess chucked a little, her mom a vampire? The rain began to come down. Jess turned on her windshield wipers and turned up her radio. Some New Year Eve show with pop music was playing. She turned on her blinker, entering the interstate. There were more cars here, but not many. She merged quickly, keeping her speed slower than normal. It was New Year’s Eve, after all. The last thing she wanted was to be hit by a drunk driver.

           When her mother passed, everything had been left to Jess, which wasn’t much, despite having a good job and saving heavily her entire life. Apparently, she’d been caught up in some scams. A “boyfriend” in Peru who was going to come to America and marry her, just as soon as he could set up his grandmother and buy a plane ticket, which my mother was funding. Planes are apparently more expensive from Peru than anywhere else in the world. Then there was the “orphanage” in Texas who was collecting all those abandoned babies from Mexico and caring for them. The antivirus that charged $120 a month to maintain the same free software that Jess had installed on her computer many years ago. She’d had to close her mother’s bank account to keep what was left from thieves, but it was too late. Her mother had saved carefully during her younger days and had planned on another 20 years of safe living, and now Jess was paying her final bills out of pocket. 

           On the right side of the road was an abandoned car. There was much physical damage, the bumper was destroyed, and parts were missing. The right-hand light was shattered. It must have been a drunk driver, Jess thought, and she slowed down her car. The rain was also coming increasing. She turned down radio off to focus.

           If only her family would believe her troubles. To this day, months later, they are still harassing her, making claims for money that isn’t there. Her niece was even suing her, on the grounds the will guaranteed her ten thousand dollars. Which it did, but the money wasn’t there. Jess had to obtain an estate lawyer, wasting more time and ever more money, two resources Jess had in short supply. He guaranteed she’d win, which just made the whole process more frustrating.

           The rain started coming down harder. She turned her windshield wipers as high as she could, then turned on her blinker to merge over. Cars were starting to pick up, many people must have had the same idea as her. She’d seen another two accidents, both appearing to be people spinning out, from the rain. Drive slow and take your time, better late than dead, she could hear her ex-boyfriend saying. She turned the radio off, it was too distracting. 

           Oh, John. She missed him. They’d been dating for 23 months, and she was sure he was going to propose. However, as mother became worse, he’d started drinking. Why he needed to drink to deal with her mother dying, Jess would never know. It had started innocently enough, a beer after work. There was always a good bottle of wine waiting when she returned from the hospital. But it grew, slowly taking over his life. The smell of his coffee reminded her of her dad’s special coffee. His work water bottle, always full of vodka, reminded her of dad’s special juice, which no one could ever drink. If it hasn’t had been for these memories, while trying to cope with her mother’s illness and death, Jess might have learned to deal with it. John was never violent or mean, always respectful of her, much different than her father had been. She still had aches in her left elbow.  These memories were ruining her life. Once, he sat on the couch to watch a movie with her, a glass of vodka with a hint of soda in her hand. The smell caused her to flashback to a particularly violent episode with her dad, causing her to have a panic attack. No more, she swore, and gave John an ultimatum: her or the booze. Just like her father, he swore he would quit, that she meant more to him than any drink and made a big show of dumping all the alcohol. Who knows, maybe he did mean it, in the moment. But soon, those signs were coming back. When she used some of his mouthwash, and it was just colored vodka, she quit. Gather up her cat and some clothes and left to stay with a friend. Now she had no mother and no home.

           The car in front of her swerved, sliding across the wet pavement. She quickly jumped to the next lane, skidding a littler herself. Thankfully there was little traffic, she slowed her speed even more. Now she was driving at neighborhood street speeds, but slow and safe was better. The rain started to come down extremely hard. The windshield wiper flopped back and forth in a useless attempt. She pulled over, hoping it would lighten up. Thunder boomed in the distance, but she didn’t see the lightening. The drips beating against her car was overwhelming and she could feel the tightness in her chest, the first sign on a panic attack. Trying to distract herself, she tured the radio back on.

           “That’s right folks, just 23 minutes left of 2019. Here come the top 3 bits of the year.” Happy pop music flooded her car, much as the rain flooded the roads. At least the music was hopeful, she thought as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. About ten minutes later, the rain had lessened slightly. It wasn’t really safe to drive, but it wasn’t that safe to be outside either, as evidenced by all multiple accidents she’d seen already. What would it be like once the drunks hit the road?

           She was regretting leaving the party early. It seemed like a good idea to avoid the traffic and bring in the New Year quietly, at home. She’d gotten new bathbombs for the holidays and was desperate to try them out. But if she’d stayed, she could have waited out the rain, even spent the night, if necessary. For a moment, she imagined that reality, a sleep over with her work colleagues. They might have played truth or dare, crowding together in a ridiculous game of sardines, falling asleep on the couches. The next morning, Dan would probably volunteer to make a coffee run, bringing doughnuts and treats. It was too late now though. She only had three more exits, just drive slowly and be alert. If she transitioned to 2020 in her car, so be it, but she had to try to make it home. 

           Watching the windshield wipers attempt to fling away the endless droplets, she smiled. That sounded like a good time. The rain lessened slightly, but traffic had picked up. It was either now or tomorrow. Slowly, she eased her car back into traffic and hoped she would be safe. There were lights around her, and she avoided those, though she could not see the cars. Finally, it was her exit. She turned on her blinker and merged over. Thunk. Crunch. Something had collided with her, spinning the car into a spiral. Screaming, she gripped the wheel, turning it desperately, but the car completely out of her control. It skidded across the wet pavement, screeching against the siderail, too much momentum. She wasn’t going that fast, was she? The air bags expanded, banging her head against the seat, and her eyes closed. She’d lost consciousness, but her car had not. It continued its journey where there was no room, not settling until it was upside down. The car that hit her was a mile down the road.

           No one else had seen the accident. Her dark colored, inverted car was invisible in the pouring rain. Not a single car slowed. Her black civic blended into the rain, rendering her invisible. The car that hit her wasn’t going to call an ambulance. Her car remained on the side of the interstate, unnoticed, undetectable.

           Inside, Jess hung, unmoving, the airbag depressurized, a floppy white bag. The once forgotten radio still played, the now inappropriately cheery man never wavering. “…was the number one hit of 2019, and just in time for the New Year. 

           “10”. The air bag had depressurized, a floppy white bag, tangling in her hair. “9.” Bruises were starting to form on Jess’ chest and face. “8.” A car drove by slowly. Did they see her? “7.” Drops of blood pooled on the ceiling, draining from her nose, staining the beige interior. “6.” The rain picked up, nearly drowning out the cheery man. “5.” Thud. Her purse had unwedged itself from where she’d thrown it, under the passenger seat. “4.” The first happy solemn notes of Auld Land Syne began to play, in anticipation. “3” A car collided with another on the road, but both were able to drive off. Neither stopped, neither noticed. “2.” Plop. Her gum fell out of her open mouth, landing in her hair. She would probably have to cut it, if there was a tomorrow for her. “1.” She laid there, unmoving, the seat belt restraining her like a cartoon character. Time was precious. “Happy New Year!”  Whistles and horns sounded from her speaker. The rain continued on, her black car just sitting there, unnoticed, unloved, uncaring.