Prompt: Write a short story about waiting, but don’t reveal what’s being waited for until the end..

DRIVE

She’s nervous. She drums her fingers on the steering wheel as she drives. She’s sitting up at the edge of her seat and feels the pull of her seat belt gently urging her to lean back. The radio is playing one of the top 100s of the week. Who even listens to this kind of music at the hour? She reaches over to change the radio frequency. Click. Click. Click. Useless noise. News from parts of the world she’s never even heard of. Another annoying song. Soft jazz. Finally she switches it off. Silence. She takes a deep breath.

It’s night outside. The streets are empty. She’s been driving for 20 minutes and she’s encountered maybe one or two other cars. Where could they be going at this hour? Heading home after a late night out with good friends? Conversations so engaging that one forgets the time? The next thing you know you check your watch and it’s 2AM and you begin to feel the tiredness in your bones. — Goodbye, love, until next time! — Let’s do this again soon. — Kiss. kiss, out the door and you don’t see each other again for another year until you bump into each other at the supermarket and talk about catching up again. Repeat ad nauseam.

Maybe these people are going somewhere. Is there anywhere to be at 3AM? Another party maybe? A secret underground concert from some off-the-radar band? Young people these days hardly sleep. Always out late, climbing back into windows as the sun comes up, sleeping in until three in the afternoon… What good things can happen at night?

She herself hadn’t ever dared stay out past her 9PM curfew. Not that she ever really had a reason to be out late at night.

She checks the time on her dashboard: 3:15 AM. She steps ever so slightly more on the gas pedal.

Where is she going? She left the edge of the suburbs 10 minutes ago and finds herself driving along the freeway and into the city. Perhaps there’s some life there.

She sneaks a quick tap on her phone to see if there are any new messages or missed calls. No new notifications. She takes another deep breath. She taps the steering wheel.

The edge of the city is quiet. She drives down the road into the city centre. At a stop light she wonders if she should just go. Partially because there’s no one there anyway, partially for the thrill. But no, she diligently slows down and waits. She turns to look out the window. There’s a man lying down on a piece of cardboard. There are a few plastic shopping bags around him. A thin blanket on top. Her stomach drops and she looks away. The light turns green and she continues to drive.

3:20 now and still no call. She reminds herself to breathe. Maybe she can find a 24-hour diner somewhere, sit down and have a cup of coffee.

Up ahead she sees Mitch’s. She feels nauseous. She should have driven down a different road. She grips the steering wheel harder until her knuckles are white and drives faster until it’s out of sight. But no matter how far she gets, it’s there, haunting her in the back of her mind. Anger pulses through her veins.

That goddamn Mitch’s. How young and naive she was back then. Fresh out of college. Moved to the big city on her own for the first time. Her parents weren’t happy of course. They had rather her stay near home at least. Not like home wasn’t just a 30 minute drive outside of the city.

It was the first time she had felt free. She and her college girlfriends had gotten jobs in the city and were out celebrating. They had heard about Mitch’s. It was a popular bar among young professionals and they were looking to see some new faces and make some new friends.

And there he was. James. Young. Charming. Rich. Freshly graduated medical student about to begin his residency at the top hospital in the city. Everything her parents would approve of.

She tried to resist it. He was a flirt and capricious.

But it was electric. He was electric.

It felt like a clandestine romance — even though it wasn’t really. He was so busy as a resident doctor they hardly even saw each other. If they did it was him crawling into her bed at 1 o’clock in the morning looking to destress from a tough day at work.

He was her first love. Ish. She supposed. So she thought.

The next thing she knew she was back under her parent’s roof a couple pounds heavier and set to gain a few more. Unanswered texts and voicemails sent to James. She felt like an idiot.

She tried to remember how long it took before she stopped getting into it with her parents. But she needed them. She was stuck.

Fuck Mitch’s. Fuck James. And fuck the city.

She’s still nauseous. She tries to shake off her disgust.

She drives into the parking lot of a 7-11 and thinks about going in to pick up a crappy cup of coffee and a bag of chips. Still no phone call.

She wants to scream in frustration. She turns the radio back on. Maybe something could distract her. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Do they hire the annoying DJs for the early morning shows that no one listens to? She clicks it off again. Deep breath…

Her phone buzzes on the passenger seat. She shoots her arm forward but hesitates. Her hand hovers over the lit up screen. She’s frozen.

It stops buzzing. She stares at the phone. A text message appears:

You have one new voicemail.

She checks her inbox.

Hi, mom! Dad and I just got to the hotel in London. Sorry it took so long to call, there were some delays so we’re late. Since you didn’t pick up I assume you're sound asleep and not up all night worrying about me. The hotel’s pretty nice and I’m excited to explore the city. Anyway, I’m pretty tired so me and dad are probably going to find some food and have an early night. I’ll call you again later or tomorrow. Love you. Good night. See you in two weeks

Bye-Oh, and stop worrying.

Bye.

She puts her phone down and leans against the steering wheel. Deep breath. She pulls out of the parking lot and drives.

Drive © Michaela Ruth Gallardo 2021