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And the Cars Glide On
By Ashlee Minton
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God, I hate him, she thought. He’s such an a----hole. She rode in the
backseat, arms crossed in sulky, angry disgust. Her mother turned the car a
sharp left, pulling to a parking space and shifted the car into “Park.” Her
mother got out of the car with a sigh and shut the door, followed by her
brother. She was the last one out of the car. That October day was brisk and
chilly, with a penetrating wind. The walk to the building seemed never-ending.
Finally, she reached the large metal doors with the ornate, mosaic-designed
handles. The doors themselves were a rather plain shade of dull brown metal, but
the handles were beautiful and clearly did not belong on such a plain door. But
the ugliness of the doors did accent the beauty of the handles. An elderly man
with a kind face was nice enough to hold one of the heavy metal doors open. She
nodded a silent “thank you” and dipped her right and into the holy water in
front of her. She made the sign of the cross as she followed her mother and
brother. She took a seat on the same bench, but didn’t exactly sit close to
either.
She didn’t get much out of mass that day. Even though she usually didn’t mind
the service and sometimes listened to the readings and the homily, her mind was
elsewhere. God, it makes me so mad that I’m mad at my smart-a--- brother. I have
better things to worry about. He’s only in the goddamn seventh grade, she
thought. She sat through the first and second Bible readings fuming. When it was
time for the sermon, where the priest spoke about the readings, her temper had
cooled a bit. Today’s sermon was short and it was about respecting neighbors.
The priest was interesting enough and a decent speaker, but Ari quickly
dismissed the priest’s suggestion. She was busy enough in her own life. Talking
to her neighbors was not on her priority list.
When it came time for the Lord’s Prayer, she didn’t hold her brother’s hand,
even though he was sitting right next to her. Her mother shot her a scowl of
warning, but she paid it no notice. She just stood there and said the prayer
aloud to herself, ignoring the silent wrath of her mother. When the mass ended,
the three walked out to the car, though still not together. She sank into the
backseat of the car and was silent on the ride home. The car turned sharply
right this time into the driveway and came to a halt. Three door-slams later,
the small family made its way into the house quickly as the day grew colder.
She ran up to her room, shut the door, slid her headphones one, and collapsed on
her bed. She didn’t know how much time had passed when she was suddenly startled
by a sharp knock on the door. Her mother partially entered the room.
“I’m going to Aunt Charlene’s house now, and James is going to drums in ten
minutes with Alex. Alex’s mom will pick him up. Just lock the door behind him
when he leaves, and get your homework done by the time I’m back,” she
instructed.
She nodded absently. “Mmmkay. See you later,” she said to her mother, and the
door closed once again. After the next two songs blared in her ears, the door
opened again. James stepped inside the room with his drumsticks and book in
hand, and began to speak. She took off the headphones.
“Hey Ari? I’m going to drum lessons now. Alex’s mom is here to take me,” he
said.
She gave Alex a nod and a mumbled “Okay.” She heard James clomp down the stairs.
The front door was pulled shut with a slam, followed by the clock of James’ key
locking the door, and finally the screen door slammed shut. Ari got up, put her
headphones down, and went into James’ room. She peeked through his window shades
to make sure he got in Alex’s mom’s van. Once the white van pulled away, she
went back into her own room and unzipped her backpack, ready to begin a night of
several calculus assignments.
Ari was finishing with her first calculus assignment and got up for a break. The
overload of numbers and formulas was making her head spin. She left her room,
went downstairs and headed for the kitchen. From the refrigerator, she withdrew
a can of Diet Coke and grabbed a few Chips Ahoy cookies from the food pantry.
Victuals in hand, she headed upstairs to enjoy her snack. She sat back down on
her bedroom floor, where she did all of her homework, and flipped on the
television with the remote.
She channel-surfed for a while, not finding anything worth watching. ‘Cribs’ was
on MTV – she loathed that show. Nothing on Disney and no good movies on Starz or
HBO. She finally settled on CBS, hoping for a game show like Wheel of Fortune or
Montell Williams. She sighed, remembering it was Sunday and that no game or talk
shows were on. She was further disappointed to find the PGA tour on. She
finished her cookies and started back in on the next assignment, leaving the
television on for background noise.
The television caught her attention when the PGA tour was interrupted by a KCCI
News Update. These things were pointless – but they were effective in grabbing
viewers’ attention.
“…We interrupt this PGA tour coverage to bring you some breaking news. A
three-car pileup near Rieman Music and Merle Hay Mall has left two dead and one
in critical condition. These pictures were shot at the scene of the accident
just 20 minutes ago,” said the reporter woman.
Ari looked at the clock. 3:55 PM. James was usually home around 3:20 or so,
sometimes later, but he was fine with Alex’s mom. When Ari looked back up at the
television screen, her fears were affirmed, though not for certain. KCCI was
showing what looked like a smashed-up white minivan and two other smashed-up
cars, one purple and one black. Ari swallowed hard, letting the pencil fall to
the floor. White van…Rieman Music…White van…
She sat frozen in front of the eerie glow of the television. The news briefing
ended, but Ari’s eyes remained locked on the screen as commercials rolled by.
Her mind was racing. Was it the right van? Even if it was.. who’s the one still
alive? James… Was this really happening? Am I just overreacting? All she could
do was keep her eyes on the set, unknowingly allowing her mind to piece together
events, not knowing their validity.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Ari suddenly shivered, as if waking up from a dream. But this time the dream was
real and it was more like a nightmare. Her mind was reeling. She was feeling too
many emotions at once: sadness, pain, loss, anger, and despair. She looked up.
He was dressed in a suit and tie, both of which and been bought especially for
the funeral. His hair was combed neatly; his eyes gently shut. The make-up
artist had done a good job; his cheeks were slightly flushed, like they had been
when he was alive. Seated next to her were her sobbing parents, both unable to
hold the grief inside. She wanted to just scream out to end the madness; but
that wouldn’t change anything. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to be
taken away into the depths of her own thought.
With what she thought was a deep sigh, Ari stood up and walked around James’
casket to the pulpit. She didn’t get any strange looks from the crowd, though.
She moved forward. Both of her parents wanted her to speak at his funeral, and
she reluctantly agreed. W hen she tried to plan the speech, she was distraught;
she didn’t know what to say. Her relationship with her late brother was complex
and couldn’t easily be described. She didn’t want to lie at her bother’s
funeral. But the truth was painful in its ambivalence. She cleared her throat
and began to speak.
“God, how we used to fight. He was such a jerk and they always took his side.
Especially Dad. Then I’d get yelled at, punished, or both. Then James would
expect me to be nice to him, like nothing happened. But I was mean too. I held
my share of grudges and could rip him to pieces like no one else could. He used
to call me fat and ugly when I was neither. He was chubby and I never let him
forget it, even when he did lose 12 pounds. He was the baby. I shouldn’t have
cared; I should have been more mature about it. He was only 12. But it was hard
to act 17 when I was treated like 12,” she said. She looked out at the audience
and saw all of the typical funeral ingredients: sobbing mourners, flowers
everywhere, and a big casket.
She had started out fearful, shy, and not very commanding. At best, she was
mumbling. But as her speech evolved from what she had written to what she had
and was feeling, her voice took on a more relaxed, serene tone. She couldn’t
attribute the marked difference in both her tone and content to anything but
being almost relieved by sharing her true feelings with a group of family,
friends, and strangers. She tucked a strand of dark brown, nearly black hair
behind her ears. Her face was solemn, though not rigid. Her usually-vibrant eyes
seemed to also mourn; for her lids were heavy and her pupils were small. Lips
pursed, she drew in a breath of air. She was making a conscious act to breathe,
afraid that her body would forget. She nervously gulped, and continued.
“He shouldn’t have died. But I wasn’t always nice to him, and he wasn’t always
nice to me. We disagreed on just about everything. I don’t know if I even loved
him like I should have. I liked him when he was nice and I loved him deep down,
but I didn’t ever get to show him that. I was too busy fighting with him over
whatever. I should have loved him more when he was alive.” She paused, but
wasn’t sure what for. “It feels strange to come home and not have to put up my
defense shields to protect myself from a James-caliber verbal assault.
It also feels strange to have no one to talk with when I want to vent about my
parents or my grades. I feel terrible that I can’t say that I loved James like I
should have when he was alive, especially at his funeral. But a heart cannot
lie,” she said. She took another look at the audience. Most of them were sitting
there. She could feel their eyes beating down on her, hanging on her every word.
Most of them looked apathetic, but a few looked startled at what she was saying.
She began again.
“It seems like any minute now, James is going to jump up from a deep slumber and
yell, ‘April Fool’s!’ and wake up.” She saw a few faces brighten; a few smiles
managed to escape. “Being killed in a car crash was never James’ style, and I
know that he should have grown up, been successful, married, and had kids. He
was wrongly cheated out of his own life. I am sorry that he died, and at times,
we really connected with each other. Whether that connection was true love or
not is a mystery,” she said.
“James probably feels cheated up in heaven that we’re all living and he’s not. I
would too, if I were in his position. But I’m going to live my life normally,
though. But since James has died, I have taken up a new hobby: car watching. I
sit on curbs ad watch the cars glide by whenever I can. I am fascinated that
such a mechanical marvel, such an efficient mode of transportation, killed my
brother. Every day, those cars zoom by, and I can’t help but picture James being
carried off by one, and then it hits me that he’s never coming back. Never,” she
said.
She stepped down from the pulpit and stood over James’ casket. She took a rose
from one of the many bouquets that surrounded the casket, and placed it between
his clasped hands. Ari walked back to the bench where she had been sitting and
her mother held out her arms, trying to hug Ari. She walked right by her mother,
apologized to her mom in her head, and grabbed her coat from the bench. She
walked down the center aisle of the church, slipped the coat around jer
shoulders, and walked out of the funeral. She pushed the heavy doors open: the
fancy, mosaic-handled doors.
The outside air was cold, and she was glad that she had her coat. She sat down
on the curb and watched the cars glide into the distance until they were no
more. An ancient Cadillac rattled by, its rear bumper missing. It sluggishly
faded into the horizon, followed by a silver truck and a blue Jeep. Slowly, one
by one, they all disappeared, just as her brother had.
