Short and Simple

A Reality

My submission for MIST: 

Theme: Race Against Time

I sign the bottom of the contract.

"Congratulations on your new car!" the Aston Martin salesman exclaims as he hands me the keys and a packet. Instantly, a thunder of applause emerges from all around me. Maybe these claps and smiles are for my accomplishment, my efforts. Or maybe they're for the dealership, for another transaction in the books. But nonetheless, I have worked hard for this car. I'm so excited! Who wouldn't be excited if they just bought their first car?

"Thank you so much," I reply, with a huge smile on my exhausted face.

As I slowly cruise down the road, I call my best friend, Jamie, and spill the news.

"Wow, great job! Congrats Shanda!" Jamie explodes.

"Haha, thanks Jamie,"

"Hey, you should go tell your parents. They'll be so proud of you," Jamie encourages.

"Nahh. You know my parents. All they do is start yelling at me and telling me how I should 'work harder and put more effort into my work' and that I 'waste my time and money on unnecessary things'" I argue.

"Ok, I think you're exaggerating a bit, don't you think? Besides, they'll be ecstatic. You bought a brand-new car, not some hand-me-down," she counters.

"I love my parents. Don't get me wrong. But sometimes they get on my nerves. Look, I just got home and I'm gonna start on my to-do list. Mr. Heights put me in charge of the huge office staff shift project for next week and I have to show him some kind of progress on that new employee presentation for it by tomorrow,"

We both say our goodbyes and hang up. With the press of a button, the garage of my 3000 square feet house slides up. Carefully, I park my beautiful, brand-new, white car in the center of the garage. Soon enough, sitting in front of my laptop, I have started to work on the presentation, but I can't concentrate on a single thing. My mind is too busy convincing me that I just bought a car—not just any car—but an Aston Martin. One thought leads to another and before I can stop, I'm arguing with myself.

"Should I go to Mom and Dad and show them my new car?"

"I mean I should. They're family after all,"

"But they always look down upon me,"

"It's the right thing to do,"

I cut off the war inside my head and try to focus on my assignment, but it's no use. I check the time. 4:30 pm the red clock reads. I give up on the project and lay down in my bed. All of a sudden, I hear my phone ring. It's Mom. Perfect timing, I think to myself.

"Hello?" my weary voice answers.

"Shanda," it's a deep male voice, my father.

"Dad? Hey. What's up?"

"Shanda, you need to come home right away," he says.

I instantly prop myself up.

"Dad, you sound worried. What's wrong?" I ask him.

"I will explain what's going on as soon as you arrive. But please, hurry. It's urgent," Dad pleads.

I end the call and grab my keys off the hook. I maneuver my way around the slow cars, careful not to hurt anyone in the process of me speeding down the road. My hands grip the steering wheel so hard, my fingers are turning white and my nails are digging into my palms.