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Chapter 1
When A Coffin Closes A Tire Goes Flat
Carrie
Istand,watchingoverthe grave as the backhoe places the final piles of dirt on top of the coffin. This is the last step to ensure my father's remains are in their final resting place.
Aside from me and the backhoe driver, I am alone. Everyone has already left and is on their way home. Including my brother, Freddie, and my father’s wife, Hilloria. They’ll probably be back on their airplanes home before I leave the cemetery. But that was always the case with them.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes, let one final tear drip from my eyes, and say, “Goodbye, Dad.” I square my shoulders, adjust my dark sunglasses, and turn to walk to my car. The black lace of my dress rubs against my knee as I walk along the path, careful not to let my heels snag on any of the rocks or thick, wet grass of the cemetery grounds.
The last time I wore this dress, my ex and I were at the company Christmas party. He'd picked it out, stating he loved the lines of the pencil skirt and the way the top hugged my curves. It was one of the last good nights we'd had.
That was before Dad was diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer, and my life completely fell apart.
The nasty kind. The stuff that's brutal, aggressive, and unrelenting in its goal of ravaging one's body. There was no ‘if you get better’. It was only a ‘when you die’ scenario.
Despite his fighting spirit, Dad’s decline was slow and painful, ravaging his organs and body. Dad’s transformation shocked me, going from vibrant and energetic, to yellow-tinged and listless. By the end, we were all praying for him to die so he'd no longer be in pain.
Shortly after Dad’s diagnosis, my last relationship fell apart, and I went to live with Dad and his wife to be Dad’s caretaker. My Brother Freddie was MIA during it all. Dad’s wife counted down the days until she’d get all of his money and optimized the evil stepmother personae.
A new wave of tears falls, and I shake my head, forcing myself to keep it together. I’ve cried for months now. I’m tired of being emotional. I’m tired of having headaches from crying all the time. Yes, Dad is gone. But he’s in a better place. And after years of putting my life on hold for him, I can finally begin living again.
I climb into my car, check my face in the rearview mirror for mascara stains and raccoon eyes, then pat any flyaway hairs back into place around the tight bun on top of my head.
I glance up at the sky, noting the charcoal blackness of the clouds. A perfect complement to this day.
As I turn the key in the ignition, there’s nothing but clicking.
Suck.
Really? REALLY?!
Can this day get any worse?
Soon, the pitter-patter of raindrops interrupts my thoughts and I give God the finger. He has one sick sense of humor.
I pull out my AAA card and dial the number, requesting a tow truck. By now, the pitter-patter has intensified into a torrent of water pounding on the roof of my car until it sounds like thunder. Lightening flashes across the horizon. Fan-freakin'-tastic.
As the minutes tick away, I sit in a daze, so emotionally exhausted that thought escapes me. I stare at the streams of water descending the window in front of me.
I'm jolted back to alertness by the beeping of the tow truck and the fuzzy red lights of the vehicle backing up to the front of my three-year-old Toyota Carolla.
A large, hazy figure jumps out of the truck and runs to me, tapping on my window. My windows are electric, ofcourse.I have to open the door, causing a deluge of water to stream off the door frame and onto the side of my thigh.
I curse, then look up at the man who now looks like he's swum five miles in a river. My stomach drops, my heart lurches, and my eyes bulge. “Ryan?”
He blinks several times before breaking out into a massive wet grin. His hair is plastered to his head underneath the baseball cap with the towing company’s name on it, and his shirt clings to his chest. Ryan’s face shines from the water running down his high cheeks in rivulets and dripping off his jaw. He barely seems to notice the water, though. Judging by the shocked look on his face, Ryan is just as surprised as I am.
“Babs?”
"H-Hey, Ryan. How're you doing?"
“Carrie Babson. It really is you.” Ryan surveys the cemetery until his slate-blue eyes return to mine. “I'm not sure who is worse off. Me or you.”
Lightning flashes in the sky and he glances upward before he shakes his head like a dog trying to dry off. "Let's get you taken care of, then we can catch up," he says, flashing a crooked smile.
I bite my lip, unsure of what I should do. "Do you want to sit in the car until the water dies down first?"
