Rachel drove home in the dark. Even as an adult her parents worried about her driving at night which was sweet and aggravating at the same time. When she was married to Paul they were never once worried about him driving. Suddenly she pumped on the brake, "Shit!" A pair of deer appeared in the ditch, their eyes glowing now that she'd spotted them. She turned down her music and cautiously sped back up to the speed limit. Once she saw her first deer she knew it'd be white knuckle driving the rest of the way home .
Art's autopsy was going to give Rachel time to pick up something new for the funeral. She hadn't seen Sean since the night of the accident and she wanted to be in something other than scrubs and a messy bun the next time she'd see him. She had kind of been banking on making her way out to Dottie's with her mom and had been sorely disappointed when she realized her mom had already been there and back with her death lasagne.
She pulled up to her house but left the car running until the song on the radio ended. "Indiana Wants Me" finished with Rachel singing along. "Oldie and a goodie," she said as she pulled the keys out of the ignition. The headlights died and Rachel moved around the car in the dark. There was no moon tonight, but the sky was full of stars. Rachel tilted her head up to admire the million little lights twinkling in the sky.
Rachel admired herself in the mirror before getting ready for bed. "Damn wasted a good outfit today," she said as she carefully pulled her sweater off and folding it neatly on a chair. Her mom had told her how good she looked, which was always nice to hear, but she hadn't dressed to impress her mom this morning. She put on her favourite flannel pyjamas and threw a housecoat over the top. It was too nice outside to sit in the house. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and a lighter and headed out to the backyard.
She had nipped a piece of foil from the kitchen to ash her cigarette into. She could not, under any circumstances, have any evidence of smoking in her home. Nobody knew she smoked, and she hadn't been smoking long. It'd been the divorce that had sparked this new secret habit. The stress of it had been so hard on her, and even though she had always found smoking revolting she had missed the smell of the second hand smoke that had wafted off the marriage counsellor and their last ditch effort to save the marriage.
In the end they realized they didn't really have anything to save. They led completely different lives, worked different shifts, had different friend groups. They didn't have kids, thank God. Rachel was pushed Paul to wait because she was still working night shifts at the hospital. She convinced him that she'd look for daytime work in a clinic, but Rachel realized she really like the hospital and she didn't mind working at night. The daytime job never materialized.
Even through the darkness Rachel could see the smoke from her cigarette. She pulled her housecoat tighter around her and brought her knees up on the lounge chair in the backyard. She had taken maybe three puffs, but the smell was putting her at ease. "It hurts to see the man that I've become. And to know I'll never see the morning sun," Rachel mumbled the rest of the line. She spent the rest of the time in the backyard humming different parts of the song while the cigarette burned down between her fingers.
YOU ARE READING
Salad, Sandwiches, Dainties and Punch
General FictionI'm probably writing about your hometown
