"Shit- let me look at that....can you scoot over?" The apparition ignored my request.
As my eyes adjusted, I knew I was dreaming. Or dying. This had to be a pre-death hallucination.
"Man- if you got a phone you might wanna call an ambulance...cause...
The fucking car hydroplaned for the tenth time. In two minutes. Well, maybe hydroplaning was the wrong term to use, given I was slipping around like a drunk turtle someone had thrown onto the ice. Or snow. Or combination of both.
Well, Lisa, snow is frozen water…
Fuck off inner voice sounding like the sanctimonious son of a bitch who really was responsible for my being out in this mess.
“Fuck!” Breathing hard, I actually managed to stop my head from spinning. And I stayed on what used to be the road. Take that!
Okay, Lisa. Slow…put the car in low gear…ease into it… There you go. Some fishtailing, but I was off again.
What I wouldn’t give for a cigarette. But I had run out hours ago.
The headlights cut a fuzzy, too short path into the white static. The sound of the wipers the metronome to my erratic pulse.
Okay…cool. Slow down heart beat… I’m moving again. It’s all good.
And if I didn’t look down I might not see the snow turtles passing me. What was with me and turtles today? Well, all that panicky breathing steamed up the windows anyway, no matter how much I wiped. So, my pride could stay intact. As long as I stayed alive.
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“Lisa Marie…Please stop cursing and concentrate on driving. You will be the death of me! And poor Michael. He’s pale as a shit. He just came back in- looks like it’s snowing too hard for him to drive out to meet you.”
Oh shit! I almost had forgotten I was clutching my phone. I was the death of her? Did my sweet mother forget it was me who was out trudging through a blizzard while she was sitting with a hot toddy at a comfy fire?
Stop being a hateful bitch, Lisa. Not her fault you’re trapped at the Irish North Pole. My luck, Santa was just about to land on the car, too.
The thought brought to mind that it was Christmas Eve and that I had no fucking business being out here, risking my life while my family was sweating bullets. And on my first Christmas as a wife again. Gosh, Mom said he was about to rush out to get me. Why did all my actions always include collateral damages?
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