One for the open road

Sipping on Bacardi and hearing the roar of the highway I contemplated driving right into lake Champagne. Call it crazy or whatever you like but drowning in a lake didn’t sound so bad right now. The hum from Prayer by Kesha mixing in with the wind from my sky window being down.

Mid-summer air tightened my throat as I sped past a slow driving tractor trailer truck. They say there is growth in discomfort. I wiped beads of sweat from my forehead keeping my hands on the steering wheel. Purely the person that came up with that phrase had no idea what death could do to a person.

Bicardi started tasting like hot poison and I looked at my passenger seat out of habit but no one resided there. Drinking my habit of choice when facing the cruel reality that happy endings aren’t for everyone. All these people striving to live their nine to five grind till the day they praying not to die.

I shook my head trying to shake out the negativity before I veer to the right and take out the car next to me. How do people live after the very thing they live for is gone? How do you just continue on like your past meant nothing?

My bicardi getting closer to empty as I drove. I’d need to buy some voodka to get me through the rest of the trip. Most leading cause of death — drunk driving right? Locks of blonde hair swept out of my face by the wind.

I kept wondering how Rose Dewitt felt as Jack drowned to save her. Did she ponder drowning with him? Every day went about the same. Start the day with a bottle of whine and end it with a few bottles of Jack Daniels and a stranger next to me. The little black device next to me lost juice long ways ago.

Life’s too short, and I keep finding reason to cut mine. But they needed me at this funeral. They needed me to rest to peace the man that I could never marry but would hold my body like the only lover. Its like asking a child to do a speech for their dead cat. You just can’t get past the tears.

Overdose they say is the cause. I took the next exit available. Where it would lead me is over a bridge and into some no name town. My steering starting to get shifty like a joy stick on a video game breaking. I could taste the fresh lake water in the air.

Would Rick want me to talk about him? If in his last seconds he was desperately regretting the high he was getting would like me to talk about him all high and mighty like? His family is like sharks. Eating each other alive. Not one of his uncles or aunts got along, and worse his mother had passed leaving only his dad alive.

I could just stand here in front of this rickety gas station smelling the lake breeze for hours. No one could contact me, no one would be able to yell at me for not doing my job, and hell I could just disappear here.

Rick dabbling in drugs is the biggest surprise for me. Its like he forgot that I was alive for him. Damn. I caught the eye of a man eyeing me from across the street. His curiosity of seeing a city slicker in white short-shorts, and a blue tank top bleeding in his eyes. Most called me a model living the good life with a husband who made scripts for famous movies as a living.

Not even the good life could save you from death. We lived like death is behind us but I found out death is always looming. Another day is another escape.

Show your support

Clapping shows how much you appreciated Jessica Cote’s story.