Learn From the Past, Or Be Doomed to Repeat It- Friday Flash

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LEARN FROM THE PAST, OR YOU’RE DOOMED TO REPEAT IT

By Melissa L. Webb

Edward gripped the steering wheel tight and stared out at the red light.  He squinted, his old eyes aching from the strain.  Rain hammered against the car, the wind shaking it while he waited for the light to change.  It was late, darkness making the evening even more unbearable.  All he wanted to do was go home and stay there.  This old man had had enough for the day.

The light turned green.  Squinting out into the darkness once more, he started forward, turning left into the night.  A horn blared.  Sounds of metal grinding filled the air as his car rocked back from an impact.  His head jerked sideways as he kept on driving, passing the dark shape which suddenly had filled his view.

He pulled ahead of it, hesitating.  He was on his way home.  He could still make it if he kept driving.  He could barricade himself in his house, make some lovely tea, and forget any of this had happened.  He glanced into his rearview mirror.  The dark shape he had struck was a car.  It sat there in the middle of intersection, headlights illuminating the fat drops of rain still coming down.  The cars wipers still swishing back and forth furiously, as if it could wipe away the mess in front of it.

Edward realized the driver was standing next to it, phone pressed tightly to their ear.  He looked around.  People were everywhere.  It was too late.  He couldn’t leave.  Too many people had seen him.

Putting the car in park, he slowly got out, his old bones creaking.  He stood there, looking around at the growing crowd, the rain running down his face.  What was happening? How had this happened?

“What the hell were you doing?” a voiced screeched next to him.  “You pulled out in front of us.  Why would you turn in front of a car going straight?”

He barely heard her words.  He watched as emergency lights flickered around him.  This wasn’t right.  None of this should have happened.  He was a good driver.  Even if the night was dark and his eyes were tired.  There was no way he would have caused an accident.  Never.

“Sir.  Are you okay?” someone in a uniform asked him.

Edward nodded absently.  He was fine, if only a little dazed.  Who had done this to him?  That car had appeared out of nowhere.  Why were they doing this too him?

“What happened?” the same uniformed man asked him.

“He just pulled out in front of us,” someone spoke from the crowd around him.

He shook his head.  He couldn’t be the one at fault.  He was never at fault.  Not once in all his 80 years had he been at fault for anything.  “No, I was turning left,” he told them, looking around at all the faces.  “I didn’t do anything wrong.  It wasn’t my fault.”  He felt the breath rush from his lungs at his words.  Something was wrong.  He was supposed to say something else.  But how could he?  It wasn’t his fault.  It was never his fault.

The scene around him turned blurry. The alarmed voices around him thinned and then disappeared all together.  He was back in his car, behind the wheel.  He needed to do something.  He needed to right something, but what?  He couldn’t remember.  It was all so fuzzy.  Too much had happened today.  Too much always happened.

Gripping the steering wheel tight, he stared out at the red light.  He squinted, his old eyes aching from the strain.  Rain hammered against the car, the wind shaking it while it waited for the light to change.  It was late, darkness making the evening even more unbearable.  All he wanted to do was go home and stay there.  This old man had had enough for the day.

© 2012 Melissa L. Webb

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