SHORT STORY: Jump to Conclusion

 

Part I

Fran Peabody took in a much needed lungful of fresh air as she stepped out of the smoke filled casino where she had sacrificed the majority of her past day. Fran had never partaken in the pastime of cigarette consumption, but after spending twelve hours at the slot machines at Mohegan Sun, she felt like she had been addicted since she was twelve; allowing for thirty years of lung deterioration. Fran looked up at the sun in the cloudless winter sky and squinted her eyes; was it rising or setting? What time was it? Fran questioned, but had no idea of the answer of what time it really was; casinos have a way of shielding its patrons of knowing the proper time with the eternal light and the constant commotion.

Fran looked around the seemingly endless parking lot for her red Ford Taurus; it had to be where she had left it, but she had no recollection of where that location was. Fran strolled up the aisles bouncing her eyes back and forth as if she was watching a nail biter at Wimbledon and she reflected on how much she had lost. She had just received her Christmas bonus from her job as a store manager at Home Depot, and with high ambitions she drove from her hometown Newport, Rhode Island to the famous Connecticut money trap.

Why did she throw all of her bonus away? She needed that money. She needed knee surgery and her insurance was not going to cover nearly enough; plus the amount of time she was going to miss work would definitely take its toll. How could she be so foolish, no greedy? She was not a fool, she was doing this with the small hope that everything would turn out alright; but that is never the case. Now she is broke and she is alone in a parking lot with absolutely no idea where her damn car was. Wait, there it was, right next to a white Bronco.

Fran got in her aging car and turned the key. The Taurus sputtered for a moment and then revved up as per usual. She pulled out and noticed that the arrow on E meant that she needed to fill up; what else can go wrong? She made the decision that she had enough gasoline to get her back into Rhode Island and she would just fill up later. She did not have the will power to throw any more money away at the moment. Fran sighed loudly in the confines of her vehicle as she pulled onto Mohegan Sun Boulevard and embarked on her hour long and self sorrow filled journey.

Fran kept the car quiet for most of the ride so that should could mourn her loss in piece and she was grateful that traffic was relatively light. Fran neared the edge of the non-island portion of Rhode Island and was prepared to cross over to her island home by means of the Jamestown-Verrazano Bridge when she saw the one sight she was really not ready for; brake lights. Fran slammed on her breaks and narrowly avoided a collision with a Toyota Corolla before arriving at a dead stop.

“Come on,” Fran cried out loud while she craned her neck to see if she could get a glimpse of what the holdup was, but there was nothing to see besides more  bleeding red taillights.

Fran inched along the slim bridge and with each full rotation of the slow motion wheels of her car she thought deeper into her financial troubles. What was she going to do? She needed that surgery, and she needed the money she no longer had. She logged a few more feet on the bridge and was almost at the crest when she spied an unusual beacon amidst the sea of red. A beacon of blinding white; blinding white headlights. Fran abandoned her woes and with awe clinging to her face, she studied her surroundings.

It looked like an accident of sorts, Fran noted as she peered at the turned around green sedan that blocked one of the two lanes of traffic. The car was inches away from the barrier that stood no more than one and a half feet tall and hardly served as any protection from plunging into the frigid and unforgivable waters of the Narragansett Bay that flowed underneath. There was only one car , Fran noticed, which means that this car either spun out of control on the ice that frequently sheets across the surface of the bridge, or some prick hit them and drove off like a coward. Whatever happened it was a miracle that they did not go over, Fran concluded as she noticed the faces on the two young children that sat embracing each other in the front seats. So young; no older than twenty or so, and yet so complacent. Had they realized how close to death they had come? Of course they did, Fran determined, but at the same time could not help but smile for them.

Here I am dwelling over what was, Fran thought to herself. I was letting things I no longer had control over negatively affect the future state of my happiness. Why bother? I had a chance to make my life better, and I knew there was risk. It didn’t work out, so what? Is that the end? No, I will push on. I can always take out a loan for my surgery, and then when I am back to my old self I can just work some overtime or take on a second job. Is it really that bad? No, I will survive.

 

Part II

Alfred Plack was a disgruntled man that received solace from a very small list of earthly things. As was the norm any items on that small list of things that brought the faintest hint of a smirk to Alfred’s face were nowhere to be found, but what was present were many items from the almost infinite list of things that irked Alfred ever so much.

Alfred hated inconveniencing himself, and he was in the middle of a highly inconvenient errand at the request of a friend. Alfred hated his friends, they had always been so needy, and he was uncertain why he even bothered to have them at all. Luckily he had just dropped off his friend as was the result of his errand so that he at least had the car to himself and was not bothered by the incessant chatter of small talk; which he also hated. He also hated favors, and this errand he had performed was in fact a favor by his friend, a favor that will never get repaid, because they never do, which is part of what spawned some of his loathing for them. The list went on, and Alfred was fuming; he hated Connecticut, and he was summoned into the middle of the blasted state, but was now back in Rhode Island, which he still hated, but to a slightly lesser extent, just because that is where his Jamestown house stood. His house, Alfred shook his head at the very thought of it; not quite as fancy, big, or lavish as he had always dreamed for himself, but that was the best he could do. That was the best he could do because that was the price of the house was what he could afford given his salary; a salary for a job, which as one could guess, he hated.

Alfred was a veterinarian at the pet care department of a worldwide chain of pet stores, but he once had ambitions of starting his own practice; a dream that had long since died, and for that he hated himself just a little. To top it all off on this morning it looked like Alfred was going to be late to work and he despised being late because everyone stared at you when you walked through the door and tried to figure out what he had been up to the night before which lead to his tardiness; or at least that is what he figured they thought.

“Great,” Alfred shouted as he slammed his steering wheel with the palms of his hands, “more freaking traffic. Why didn’t they just build this bridge with three lanes to begin with? It connect two states, of coarse people are going to use it.”

Alfred looked around and his chances of arriving no more than an hour late to work became clear. The bridge was backed up and no one was moving faster than a sloth on a hot summer’s day. “What is going on? Probably just some granny who can’t find her gas peddle. It is next to the break Ethel and I am sure you are familiar with that one. Get your glaucoma ridden eyes off the road and into a nursing home.”

Alfred continued his rant while a fellow driver turned on his blinker and tried to merge into Alfred’s lane because his current lane was closing due to the blockage. “Not gonna happen,” Alfred hisses into his window as he pulled up to no more than a hairs width from the car in front of him, almost causing a second traffic jam factor for those behind him. “There it is, the great cause of the traffic. Everyone body take a look. God damned rubberneckers, we have all seen a spun around car before.”

Just then, while belligerently berating all those around him, Alfred spotted the faces of the two in the green sedan that from the looks of it came close to teetering off of the edge. A boy and a girl. The boy behind the wheel, now leaning over and holding who looked to be his girlfriend. The girl gently sobbing, but with a smile on her face. He looks like my son, Alfred thought to himself as a tear welled in his own eye. Alfred had not talked to his son, Jonny in two years since they had a falling out. Jonny had been off to the University of Connecticut to study engineering and when home he stayed with his mother. Why had he let them grow so far apart? It was probably because Jonny could not stand Alfred belittling everything that was in the vicinity, but that was all that Alfred knew how to do. Why was he filled with so much hate? He did not know, but he was not going to lose his son. That boy in the car came so close, what if Jonny was that boy? The boy behind the wheel was probably just an inexperienced driver, Alfred thought, and he couldn’t handle the car under these conditions, but Jonny is no more experienced. Jonny takes this bridge all the time. Alfred reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone; he dialed.

 

Part III

Jan Heckle and Tom McCoy sat on their couch and had a conversation in each others eyes. Words did not need to be spoken when you had been together since you were fourteen, and although being together for only four years may not seem like a whole lot to some, it was everything to Jan and Tom and gave them plenty of time to form an unspoken form on communication.

Jan broke the stare by standing and brushed off her jeans while doing so. “You want to wear that shirt?”

“Yea, I like this shirt,” Tom looked down and examined the black Red Hot Chili Pepper shirt that clung to his body. “You gave it to me.”

“I know,” Jan smiled, how could she forget, it was for their second anniversary. “Just making sure.”

“I am ready, are you?” Tom said as he looked once again into the eyes of his love.

“I am,” Jan nodded.

The two walked to the front door of Tom’s parent’s house hand in hand. Tom opened the door and grabbed his mother’s set of keys on his way out. Tom pulled the door shut behind him and the two approached the green sedan parked in the driveway. Tom led Jan to the passenger side door and chivalrously opened it for her and closed it as well after she had taken her seat. Tom then jogged over to his side of the car and hopped in.

“What do you want to listen to?” Tom asked as he turned on the car and quickly turned off the radio before his mother’s country music station consumed their delicate ears.

“Let’s just talk,” Jan looked over. “I am not really in the mood for music.”

“Not a problem,” Tom said as he backed out of his driveway. “What did you tell your parents?”

“That I was staying the night with Elizabeth,” Jan said. “What about you?”

“I am not even sure if she will know I am not home until next Tuesday,” Tom chuckled. “She works all the time, and we barely see each other.”

Tom and Jan took to the highway and traveled east; approximately ten miles from where they wanted to be. “What do you think they will say when they find out?” Jan asked, no sound of concern in her voice.

“That’s if they even find out,” Tom commented.

“I think they will,” Jan said.

“Yea?” Tom looked over, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

“It’s alright,” Jan smiled at Tom so that he could see her. “I hope they do.”

Five miles from the spot. “Light traffic this morning,” Tom noted as he whizzed by the other early risers on the road.

“I guess no many people want to go to Rhode Island today,” Jan smiled.

“Or any day,” Tom laughed; he knew Jan found his quips to be part of his charm.

“Yea,” Jan smirked as she looked out at the rising sun. “It is beautiful. A perfect day.”

Tom came back down from his levity and refocused on the matter at hand. “Any day would be perfect as long as we are together.”

“I know,” Jan leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But I am glad we have this sunrise. This is our sunrise and forever will be.”

The front wheels of Tom’s mother’s sedan pulled onto the asphalt over the abutment of the Jamestown-Verrazano Bridge and the two continued on. “Which point?” Tom asked.

“How about the middle?” Jan answered.

“The middle it is,” Tom said and then sat quietly as the two neared the peak of the span. Tom slowly applied the break and felt the car slowing as the car neared the highest point.

“Maybe we should turn around,” Jan said as she took Tom’s hand.

“You mean go home?” Tom was caught off guard.

“No, like literally turn around, and face the wrong lane of traffic,” Jan explained. “This way other cars can see the car and no one rear ends your mom’s car. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tom nodded as he slowly turned the wheel, grateful that no other cars were on the road, because maneuvering on the narrow bridge was hard enough as it was. “I will turn on my brights too, so that they really see it.”

“Good idea,” Jan let a tear drop as the Tom put the car into park.

“Are you happy?” Jan asked.

“Yes,” Tom stated simply. “Are you?”

“Yes, I am too,” Jan nodded.

“What do you think it is going to be like?” Tom asked, wiping away a salty stream from Jan’s cheek.

“I don’t know?” Jan shrugged and looked out the window. “Traffic is already backing up. That was quick.”

“I guess rush hour was right at our heels,” Tom smiled.

“Tom, I love you,” Jan sniffled.

“Jan, I love you too.” Tom unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over to hold Jan. While caught in the embrace he looked out the window at the disturbance they were causing. He watched as a all eyes examined their care, and he watched as each of them made their own detective determination on what had happened. He watched of some judged him, and watched as others cursed him. He watched as a woman in her red car smiled at him, what for he would never know. He watched as a bald man’s angry scowl went soft as he took a phone call. He pulled his eyes away; they did not matter.

Tom got out of his car and walked around to open Jan’s door for her. He took her hand and they approached the edge of the bridge facing the Atlantic Ocean. Tom hugged Jan as tightly as he could and let the salty mist in the air wash over him while.

“Together forever,” Tom whispered. “The cancer can’t hurt you anymore.”