Blink

Then: Start of an Engine

Then

You know there's something off-kilter about your life when sitting in a car with your parents is so mentally excruciating it feels physical. And not only that, but hair-tearingly, head-smashingly awkward as well. I hummed softly under my breath just to ignore the tension, and attempted to concentrate on our robotic navigation system, which, mercifully, spoke English. 

With every narrow road it directed us down, grey stone buildings passed in smears, blending effortlessly into the matching sidewalks. The sun shone, sparkling across the ocean, which had just become barely visible past the horizon. I regarded it disinterestedly. Foreign water was no more intriguing than what I could see from my bedroom window, which was located comfortably in my hometown. In my home country. In my home continent.

A voice intruded on my observation. "Melle," Mom said, attempting to make eye contact through the driver's mirror (which I deliberately averted), "We're stopping at a bakery, do you want anything?"

"No thanks," I responded, staring out the window. "Mind turning on the radio before you get out?" Doug snorted derisively and Mom shot him a look, which I assumed I wasn't supposed to notice. 

"Sure," She agreed, shifting the car into reverse so she could park. "Leaving the engine running too, for the air conditioning? Global warming ain't got nothing on you, don't worry." I couldn't help but smile a little, even though I knew that was her intention.

"Kendra," Doug said, trying his best to sound reasonable, "It's a waste of gas, not to mention money. I'm sure Melle will be perfectly fine." 

I kicked the door soundlessly, and bit my lip. My fists clenched, his ignorance provoking my anger. Mom turned to face Doug, and cocked her head. "Honey, if it's what she wants, I think our wallets will survive. Come on, you want a pretzel?" 

Grudgingly, he nodded, and unbuckled his seat belt. 

They both pushed open their respective doors, Doug sufficiently distracted by the prospect of food, and crossed the cobblestone street towards the land of baked goods. I leaned back to enjoy the view and the radio, only to be immediately disrupted by a phone's annoyingly upbeat jingle. Riffling through Mom's purse, I extracted the offending device and pressed the green 'answer' button. 

"Hello, this isn't Kendra Evans, how may I help you?" I drawled into the receiver. 

"Uh," came a voice uncertainly from the other end, "I'm calling about some papers she left in the office before vacation. Are you her daughter? Uh, Melanie? Wait, no, Melle? " 

"I am. As Kendra Evans is currently purchasing a pretzel, she is unavailable. May I take a message?" I smiled into the phone, taking a little too much pleasure in the conflict I was creating.

"Could you just tell her to reach me at the number you received a call from?" the voice asked, springing from pleasantly businesslike to irritated in a heartbeat. 

"Certainly, ma'am." I hung up, barely catching the "But I'm not a woman!" that filtered through the cell.

I knew it wasn't nice to exact my vindictive revenge on my mom's innocent employees, but on occasion, I couldn't seem to help it. Between them and Doug, I was too low on her priority list, and this required the regular release of negative energy. Negative energy that was sometimes directed towards undeserving people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. To distract myself from any possibly painful thoughts, I grooved a little to the radio, and absorbed the buildings and ocean around me. Even amidst my reluctance to travel, there remained a little appreciation for the sights and sounds of a new country. 

"I brought you one anyways," Mom sung, popping open the door and dropping back down into the driver's seat of the car, startling me a little. She tossed a pretzel at me, and I suppressed a groan as it hit the floor at my feet.

"Mom," I intoned, in a deliberately patronizing voice, "How many times must I tell you. No. More. Pretzels." Nevertheless, I plucked it from the ground and took a bite, salt blossoming across my tongue. 

"Must have slipped my mind," she said gaily, grabbing Doug's hand across the car's console, and smiled at him. He grinned back. In that moment, they looked… Exquisite. Infinite. 

The pretzel slipped her mind, among other things.