The One Driving
George thought to himself silently, driving down I-33 toward his ex-wife’s house. What had happened to them, he wondered, and blamed everything on her. Maria was too foreign, only married him for citizenship but fuck she was beautiful; the way her hair brought time to a stop while she was passing the wind, the chipped nail polish that always surprised her but didn’t annoy her, how her legs moved like clockwork. She was too emotional. She always wanted things done her way. Didn’t she? Yeah, she did. She was such a bitch, but a goddamn irresistable bitch. All he had left of her was a once-a-week visit with their child; probably isn’t even mine, he’s probably that drunken shitty boyfriend’s. That asshole stole my wife and my kid.
He often thought of killing them all then drowning himself, but seeing the genius in his son always stopped his hand. He hated seeing her when he came by but the way the child’s face lit up, it was as if George was a giant mechanical Christmas present. It was all he had to keep him going. That kid could change the world, he thought; he changed my life. Maybe I’ll just kill the mother and the boyfriend, slaughter their pets, and say it was a car accident. He’s too young to understand, anyway. God I’d like to dig my hands into his grimey little skull, cut open her head like I’d carve a pumpkin on Halloween — yeah, that’s it, like a fucking pumpkin.
He drove on.
He saw rain clouds ahead and hated his life.
The car slowed as he entered the town, though still driving at a dangerously high speed. His eyes were inside, seeing thoughts of red and gold, his ears strained to make out the voices and the screams. He could almost taste the blood; he smiled and nodded to himself, but he knew he wasn’t like this. He knew it was an illusion created by fury. He knew he’d go back to his small, sensitive self with no hope and no direction as soon as he found the little blue house. Until then, he swerved across lanes and darted in between family vans and teenagers’ trucks.
Ahead he saw a liquor store and wondered why it was there. It’s such a small town, he thought, and such a peaceful and pure one. Four fucking churches on each block; that can’t be right. The perfect place to raise a family, whether you believed in anything or not. No one cared who you were or where you came from or what you did, but they treated you like you mattered anyway. It’s the sort of town he loved to hide in, but now he was the enemy. Wonder what shitfaced lies she told these people. He didn’t do anything wrong. She just up and left him.
His mind came back to its place attending the world when he saw a group of girls on the corner of the street. He saw their excited faces, saw their deceit. Just like Maria, he thought. They better not fucking try to cross. I’ll hit them, I don’t care, I’ll kill them. I’ll drag their corpses all the way down the road and — Goddamnit. He was interrupted by their quick feat. He pushed the wheel too long, the sound echoing long after he had passed the street light. God fucking damnit.
