Sunday
Drives Done Mojo Style
by
christina fifield
2007 Storycove Flash Fiction Award
I thought it was gone.
It
had been a few years and no one had grabbed my arm to whisper demented
words of wisdom to me. No stranger had gotten out of her car, looked
at me as if to say “Hi”, but instead said, “And the Daddy took the
T-Bird away."
I
wasn’t seeing any middle aged mothers wearing ¾ length, down coats,
riding skateboards in the street, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.
I really thought it was over, and to tell the truth, I almost, sort
of, missed it. One day I realized that I was bored with my life,
and in figuring out what to do about it, I felt a pang of longing
for the eccentric creatures that used to be drawn to me.
I was the Pied Piper of the Nuts. I emitted a melodic signal silent
to all of the “slightly off” members of society, and they would
flock to me, to impart words of wisdom from their own special world,
or to just entertain me in order to keep me from being tired of
my normal routine. After being privy to that every day, for so many
years, it surprised me to learn that so much time had slipped by
without me noticing that it was gone. It was Mother’s Day when I
noticed, and it became part of the conversation at breakfast that
day. My kids loved to hear the stories, but hadn’t really ever gotten
to see my followers in action. I’m not sure they even believed that
I was telling the truth.
My cousin drove home from the restaurant as part of my day of rest
and relaxation. We were on the Parkway, when I noticed the driver
next to us. Before anything could change, and no one would believe
the story I would again have to tell after all of these years, I
called out for everyone to look to my right. Our neighbor was driving
a Jaguar convertible with only his left hand on the wheel. His right
arm was flung across his throat and the fingers on that hand were
dangling out of his window. He had the window cracked just enough
to fit his digits through.
It
looked as though he were strangling himself. I thought he was having
an issue that caused him to be driving like that, but his face was
relaxed as if he were out for a typical Sunday drive. He was undeterred
by all of us gawking at his awkward position and as my cousin swerved
to avoid hitting him because she had stared a little too long, she
said, “ How is he out driving a car like that, on a beautiful day
like this, and he doesn’t even have the top down?” I knew then that
after a little magical thinking, my mojo was back.
