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No garland.
No railing.
No house.
The Penneys might save me on this one. They have to. Five years ago, they had a house fire across the street from our house. Lost everything except human lives. Mom repeated, “It’s just stuff, Elizabeth,” to Mrs. Penney on so many occasions I lost count.
Just a house.
Just furniture.
Just materialistic things that don’t matter in the bigger picture.
With Christmas upon us, I have to believe my mother will heed her own sentiments and stay focused on that bigger picture when she discovers the Afina house and all of its belongings are no longer in the family.
Here’s the bigger picture: I haven’t gambled, not once, since I lost everything.
Baby steps.
A bone-rattling gust of wind shakes my trailer in the middle of the night like an earthquake. In fact, when I wake to silence, I’m certain that’s what happened because there’s no wind. I lumber from my bed to get a drink of water and see if anything was damaged. While I tip back a glass of water, my vision snags on headlights pointed at the back of my trailer in such close proximity it seems unlikely they’re not on my property.
“What the hell,” I mumble to myself.
Squinting to see if anyone’s in the vehicle, I grab my jacket and swing open the door.
A white BMW is parked in my yard. Parked is a generous word. Crashed is more like it. The hood is bent from taking out my mailbox which is on its side beneath my bedroom window.
I knock on the driver’s window. “Yo! What have you done? You’re in my yard! Are you alive?” I frown when the hunched body resting against the deployed airbag doesn’t move. “Are you okay? Need me to call an ambulance?” I ease open her door.
A woman lifts her head with long dark hair stuck to her face. She blinks several times. “Where am I?”
“You’re in my front yard. It’s a … no parking zone. I’m calling for help.”
“No! No. No. Please no.” She pounds her fists into the deployed airbag and searches for the seat belt. “No police. No reporters. No one.” Her fingers peel the hair away from her face before she squeezes her body out of the car like the first stick of gum in a pack.
“You’ve done some damage to my property.” I nod to my mailbox on the ground.
She flinches when a gust of wind barges past me right into her car. “I’ll pay for it.”
“I’m sure you will, but I want it in writing, which means we need to call the police and make an official report.”
“Cash. I’ll give you cash.” She rubs her forehead with her palm. “Wait … crap … my wallet is at my house. Listen, help me get my car back to my house, and I’ll pay you double the damage and a little extra to keep this between us.” Her tired, brown eyes catch the glow of my porch light while she tucks her black hair behind her ears.
She’s rather … pretty.
And it’s the middle of the night.
She’s shaky.
And she just mowed down my mailbox with her fancy car.
Yet … she’s still mesmerizing for some reason.
“Why do you need help getting your car home? You can see over the airbag, and the dent in your hood isn’t too bad. It should run just fine.”
Her nose wrinkles while she hugs herself. “I-I’m feeling a little woozy. I think it’s best if I’m done driving for the night.”
“It’s after two in the morning, and you want me to what? Drive you home because after nearly hitting my house and killing meyoufeel a bit woozy?”
