15 Months

5: Lamp Post

It was the second week of January. The weather was terrible. Snowstorms raged through the days and driving home was a nightmare for Tristan. The number of cars on the road was infuriating. The noise was even worse.

On one particular evening, a tired and frustrated Tristan forgot all about road safety as he sped up on the icy road. He was just two minutes out of the Kerzillion when he slammed his brakes trying to slow down his swiveling Honda. He cursed himself as he rapidly turned the steering wheel trying to avoid crashing into other vehicles. The leftover New Year and Christmas lights didn't help his situation as the world whirled by in a bright, blinding blur. He couldn't decelerate the car fast enough as he crashed into a lamp post.

Thankful for the seat belt, Tristan stumbled out of his car, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The front half of his automobile was destroyed. The hood emitted smoke and much of the windshield was stuck in Tristan's face and hair. Although he didn't hit his head, he could feel blood trickling down his face from the glass shards that scratched him.

"I'm alright, I'm alright," he assured a man heading his way.

"You sure?" the guy asked, voice muffled by a scarf.

"I can take you to a hospital," another person offered. Tristan tried to calm his thoughts. He willed his mind to think rationally. He had to move his car off the sidewalk. He had to keep the police away. No hospitals either.

"No, no," Tristan shook his head. He was still trying to formulate a plan when he heard a familiar voice.

"Tristan?"

He turned around; his eyes widened slightly. Why did it have to be her of all people? The one person whose respect he needed. Couldn't it be Alan or Evelyn?

"It's alright, I'll take him home," Dahlia told someone.

"Dahlia, it's alright. I can deal with this."

"What will you do about your car?" she asked him, and even though her tone was soft, he could hear the challenge in her voice. When he took too long to respond, she continued, "That's my car," she points to a red Mercedes-Benz.

"I-" Tristan started before he realized that Dahlia was already conversing with another man. He sighed before going to the trunk of his car. He quickly got his briefcase and then went to Dahlia's car. "Well, this is toasty," he whispered to himself in the warmth of the car. A few minutes later, Dahlia joined him.

"Here," she stated after fumbling in her bag, she was holding a pill, probably a painkiller.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," Tristan didn't like the idea of taking an unknown pill.

She looked at him, her brows slightly furrowed before putting the pill back. Without saying anything else, she started driving.

"What happened to the car?" Tristan asked after a while.

"I asked a truck driver to tow it to Rosemont. You can take it from there later."

"Thank you. This doesn't happen a lot," Tristan felt like he had to explain himself to her. Just to make sure he didn't damage her depiction of him.

"Of course it doesn't," she simply replied.

"What I mean is that I wasn't recklessly driving-"

"I'm not judging you, Tristan. The road's slippery and the visibility is really low right now. Drivers are prone to accidents."

"Of course."

"But you should also know better than to speed in this weather," she looked at him, "Unless you don't?"