skonen_blades

She grabs the wheel and yanks hard to the right. She’s screaming. I think she was having a dream or something. Either way, something very bad just happened in the darkness of the night of March 14, 2009. The highway we’re driving on snakes away to the left. She’s screaming to look out for the dragon and her beautiful blue eyes are starting to clear. The guilty curl of the corner of her mouth is starting to be shyly embarrassed. She’s starting to realize that she called out in her sleep. I don’t think she’s clueing into the fact that she grabbed the wheel even though it’s still in her hand. She starts to giggle something at me when the impact snaps her head towards me and shoves her body back towards the door. Her beautiful long blond hair caresses my face in ultra slow motion. I smell the shampoo I bought her at the supermarket last week. I am a watery bag of meat held in place by a seat belt. She isn’t wearing hers.

We bust through the guardrail and arc out with a scatter of gravel and a scrape of metal into the midnight stars. The valley yawns beneath us. There is a powerful wind rushing past the windows with a moan. The nose of the car dips. It feels like this is all taking hours to happen. Her door is wide open.

I remember the first time I met her. Susan Deerborn. We were on our first date and on the way to the restaurant, I asked her if she was hungry. “Are you kidding? I’m ravishing.” She said. I guess she got famished and ravenous all mixed up in her head. We laughed for hours. It became a running joke.
“Are you hungry?” one of us would say.
“Are you kidding? I’m gorgeous!” the other would say.

The impact has pushed the right front corner of the car into a new shape. This has popped her door open as a result. The impact has also propelled Susan back towards the door. As a result of her door not being there anymore, Susan is flying out of the car. Her light summer dress is rippling in the deafening wind. She has a confused look on her face. She cocks her head at me, mutely asking for clarification on what’s going on. I’m watching her flow away from me. I reach out to grab her hand. Gravity has taken a vacation and we’re weightless for these moments. Flying. I remember that scene in Superman with Christopher Reeve where Superman takes Lois for a night flight. Their fingers lose contact for a second and she plummets to the ground, screaming. Superman rescues her. I’m not Superman.

Susan floats away from me. Our fingers don’t even brush. Her purse, a map, some coins, and half a sandwich slowly go with her.

I remember after our first night together she cried for hours. She never told me why. That was one of the only times I saw her cry.

The door is open so the car light is on. She fades away into the night.

Time speeds up at that point. The rest of the ride down towards the valley floor only takes a few seconds. I look forward to the rocks.


toe