Tuesday, December 7, 2010

"This is your fault."

After I spoke with Lance on the phone, I exited in a hurry. I was going to be late for rehearsal. Outside my house, the driveway was full of cars and a deep night had taken over. I looked for my mother's Pontiac, surrounded by random cars from the past. Other friends were there, all to help me move the vehicles around so I could get out. Michelle Brewer was one of those people, directing the scene. My sister was there too, but every time she moved a car she would scratch into another. As the scene deteriorated car after car turned up somehow on our lot. They seemed to be multiplying! I found my father splitting wood beside the garage, as if trying to ignore the scene. When I asked him where our car was and if he could help he said simply, "This is your fault." and went on with his wood chopping. Annoyed I turned away from him and marched towards Michelle who was wearing a stage managers radio head set. "I'm going to be late for rehearsal." I said. And when I thought she was going to relay the message for me, instead she exclaimed, "I found Tercie!" pointing to her grandmothers old teal Toyota Tercell sitting in my driveway. One of dozens of cars there.

No comments:

Post a Comment