She kissed him goodbye, knowing he wouldn’t remember her tomorrow. She stared deep into his eyes, those deep blue eyes that she knew wouldn’t again recognize her from the next person on the street. She reached to his hair, and ran her fingers through it, relishing the silky feel of his slightly graying hair. As her fingers moved through, the smell of sandalwood mixed into a soapy aura wafted toward her nostrils. She breathed deeply through her nose, wishing to memorize the scent. The short salt and pepper beard, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the firmness of his arms and chest, all of it she dearly hoped she would be able to take with her in memories for another day. A slight tear formed at the corner of her right eye at her mind’s reminder that he would not have the same blessed remembrance of her upon the morrow.
Stephanie sighed and left the hospital room, forfeiting the familiar soapy scent of sandalwood and the cologne that wafted from his neck for the more sterile and unwelcoming scents so many hospital hallways seem to emanate from every corner. A hint of bleach here, a dash of peroxide there, the occasional splash of foam hand sanitizer all mixed together to form one of the bleakest scent palates known to mankind. She walked under the faintly humming florescent lights which cast their eternally unforgiving and unclosing eye upon the stark white tiles. Upon reaching the elevator, she sighed and pressed the button, knowing that her father would never be the same again after the accident.
The elevator announced its arrival with a jarring ding. The doors parted with a clunk and a whoosh, showing her that nobody was inside. Grateful and relieved that she would not have to share this ride to the lobby with anyone, she quickly pressed the button marked with a large G and even more quickly mashed the button that ordered the elevator to shut its doors post haste.
“Wait, hold the elevator!” A call of desperation from about halfway down the hallway startled Stephanie from her reverie. Footsteps pounded the tile closer and closer as the doors began to close. Stephanie pretended to stifle a cough in her sleeve as a glimpse of the stranger’s disappointed face peeked through the crack in the door as they settled into their final position before the elevator began its descent. She was in no mood to share the elevator, but could do nothing to prevent the twinge of guilt that ran through her conscience like a case of pins and needles in a limb that once was asleep.
The elevator lurched downward from its position at the top floor. As the numbers began to count down, Stephanie found herself again wishing that she would not be joined by others seeking to reach their vehicles for their respective journeys home. It was a long shot to be sure, but it’s not every day that you learn that your father’s memory will likely never return due to complications from a catastrophic brain injury. She mulled over the idea that one of these fine days, she might have to make a decision to pull the plug and end his suffering.
Another ding from the elevator gave her a start, and Stephanie suddenly realized that she had succeeded in making it to the lobby without being joined by someone who may have had more joyful news to accompany their departure. Small miracles do happen, she thought as she rifled through her purse in search of her car keys. Keeping her eyes ever on the move for prowlers in the parking structure, she stuck her tongue slightly out between her teeth and applied slight unconscious pressure to it as her hand, then half her forearm, then her entire forearm disappeared into the inner most void that represented her handbag.
Aha! Her hand seized the elusive key ring all the way at the bottom left corner of her purse. She made a mental note to purge her bag of all unnecessary items and attempt in the future to carry a smaller and more organized bag. She grasped them in her hand, making sure that the longest and the sharpest of them were sticking out from between her middle knuckles. This was a habit she had formed in college at the behest of campus police officers seeking to keep the student body safe from wayward ne’er-do-wells. Though she had never had to employ her keys in the manner intended with the grip she so regularly employed, better safe than sorry was a motto she liked to live by.
The wind gusted mightily through the parking structure, pressing Stephanie’s coat up against her body. She staggered for a few steps, and moved more briskly across the lot to where she had to park her car. On the opposite goddamn side of the lot. Always on the opposite goddamn side of the lot. Somehow, some way, whenever she came to the hospital to check on her father, the parking lot was crammed full and she had to park on the opposite goddamn side of the lot. Of course, the lot would have emptied out most of the spots near the hospital’s entrance by the time she left, still leaving her on the opposite goddamn side of the lot.
Stephanie shook her head a moment, trying to unseat the needle on the broken record that was now playing in her mind. There were other things to attend to in life besides her father and her car on the opposite goddamn side of the lot.
Stop it, she said to herself. Just stop it.
The wind continued to howl through the parking structure and Stephanie began to wonder how fast she could get her keys out of her pocket if someone with nefarious intent decided to besiege her. Could I even do it without them hanging up on the fabric inside? Never mind, I’m here at my car on the opposite goddamn side of the parking lot. She shook her head again, seeking once more to reset her mindset. Focus, focus, focus, she told herself.
She opened her car door and eased herself into the driver’s seat, bending her head down ever so slightly to avoid conking it on the frame as she had so many times in the past. She slammed the door behind her, quickly locked the door, and started her vehicle. It was after dark, after all. You never could tell what kinds of idiots were out and about looking for an easy score from a helpless woman, money or otherwise. “Don’t Fear the Reaper” by Blue Oyster Cult was playing on the classic rock station she was tuned into. Nice work, universe. Very nice work indeed, she thought sardonically.
She glanced at the screen located in the middle of the dashboard between the driver’s side and passenger side, which obligingly showed her what was behind her car when she put it in reverse. Seeing that nothing was there, she cautiously proceeded in reverse, then switched to drive for the trip out of the parking garage. Just as she reached the exit, the battery light on her vehicle popped on and glared at her with its disapproving orange eye.
Stephanie sighed as she knew that meant she likely would have to replace her alternator this weekend. Good thing it’s Friday, she thought. She allowed herself a small smile that came with the satisfaction of knowing that for once in her life, something broke on her car when she had a fresh pay check and an entire weekend to deal with the problem. All I have to do now, she thought, is get home without this thing going belly up on me.
She pulled out of the parking garage and navigated the excessively large speed bumps that adorned the hospital road that led to the nearest exit onto Main Street. Her vehicle pestered her with another ominous noise, this time coming from the alert that she was running low on fuel. Stephanie groaned audibly and chided herself for letting her vehicle slip into apparent rack and ruin. Things hadn’t been going well for her father as of late and she had been preoccupied with work and trips to the hospital. As she completed her left turn and headed south, she began to debate the wisdom of stopping for gas on her way home. Will I be able to start my car again? Will I have to beg the gas station attendant to jump my car so that I can make it home? What if some hobo is there begging for change or offering to fill my gas tank for me for $5?
She shuddered at all those thoughts, then suddenly remembered that she had five gallons of gas in a jerry can at home. She tapped a button on the center dashboard screen and it showed that she had plenty of mileage left to make it home. Happy at the good luck that seemed to be falling her way, she switched the station because apparently the almighty had informed the DJ that she was feeling raw about her father and had played “Father and Son” by Cat Stevens followed by Harry Chapin’s “Cats in the Cradle.”
Just then a flash of red awakened her from her distracted state, and she slammed on the brakes, her car to screech to a jarring halt just inches from the bumper of the vehicle in front of her. Stephanie’s heart raced a mile a minute, and she slowly released the white-knuckled death grip she had on her steering wheel. She relaxed a bit back into her seat, trying to force her breathing and heart rate back into an acceptable range when her car suddenly died.
No. Goddammit no. She pounded her fists against the steering wheel and slammed the gear shift back into park. Waves of emotion overtook her and she broke into great heaving sobs. Leaning her weight fully on the steering wheel, she bashed her fist again and again on the dashboard next to the steering wheel.
“All I fucking needed was five more miles and I would’ve been fine!” she screamed at her dashboard, tears streaming down her face. “But NOOOOO! You couldn’t give it to me could you?!” She began pounding the steering wheel with both fists, emphasizing practically each syllable of her next sentence. “You goddamn motherfucking piece of cock sucking jackass raping shit!”
She bashed her head against her steering wheel as her shoulders continued to heave, this time as waves of laughter began overtake her. Everything that had transpired to bring her to release that torrent of absurd cursing into the world melted away as her sides began to hurt from the guffaws. The sheer inanity struck her again and again as tears again began to flow and her sides began to hurt as she struggled to get herself under control.
Ordinarily, she would be flipping off the angry drivers who honked at her and cast her evil glares as they violently swerved around her. This time, though, she continued giggling as pieces of the phrase ran back through her mind. You goddamn...more laughter...piece of...even more laughter...jackass…she tried holding her laughter in by sucking her lips in. That just made things worse. A great thunderous chorus of belly laughs erupted from her formerly filthy mouth as she pounded her fist on the steering wheel, trying desperately and failing miserably to control herself.
Slowly the laughter faded and she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Time to see if I can get this crate going again. She put the car back in park and tried to ignition. It gave several lively turns, but failed to start.
“C’mon, fuck face, you can do it.” She stifled a couple of more laughs as she tried to ignition again. A couple of more turns, but still nothing. Just as she was contemplating calling for a tow, she heard the loud clanging of a railroad crossing alarm fill the air. Her brief joy turned to cold horror as she saw the gates close in front of and behind her car. She looked both ways down the tracks she somehow hadn’t noticed she stalled on and felt the blood drain from her face as she saw the headlight of a freight train bearing down on her from the left. The train’s brakes were screeching loudly, as the train engineer used the horn again and again, hoping beyond hope that somehow the driver in the car stuck on the tracks would be startled into action.
Stephanie panicked as she jiggled to door handle. Locked. Of course her habits would come right around to bite her in the ass at the worst time. She tried to power locks. They wouldn’t budge, either. The train was almost upon her, and she thought that she could see the look of sheer panic on the face of the engineer through the engine’s windshield. She tried to smash the window with her elbow, the seat belt buckle, both to no avail. She suddenly remembered that the headrest on her seat was supposedly able to be fully pulled out and used as a weapon against the window. Sparks continued to fly from the train’s wheels as she pulled madly at her headrest. She looked suddenly to her left and the train was right fucking there! She swallowed a lump in her throat, closed her eyes and screamed.
“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” Stephanie sat bolt upright in her bed, her cotton t-shirt soaking wet with sweat, clinging to her heaving bosom. She looked around and saw the familiar sights of her bedroom. She patted herself down as if to make sure that she was all there. She pulled her moist palms away from her shirt, giving them a curious sniff and confirming that she had indeed sweated through her night shirt again. She continued to pant as she began extricating herself from her bed sheets, which had somehow become an extraordinarily tangled mess around her limbs.
“Holy...mother...fucking…shit…” she said as she peeled her shirt off and cast it to the floor. “I really fucking hate that dream.” Stephanie decided that it wasn’t worth it to go fetch another shirt from her dresser and snuggled topless underneath her sheets.
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