Now II

A Wednesday, Special Edition.

I saw her today.

While driving home, I drive past her street. Today I saw a car like her mother drives turn down. With a big SUV riding my butt, I decided, "get that stinging bit of strange closure, get rid of this jerk, see if the roads been fixed, take the scenic route for once."

It was her mother. The house looks the same and everything...

The road hasn't been fixed. There is still no way to drive in the proper lane without the right tires in a rut. Driving at a less than 90 degree angle, to the right, is unusual.

Deep breath. The worst patch is over with. I didn't see her. It's okay. I'm still bugged by that. It's okay.

You know those times when you're driving and you happen to get a clear glimpse of the driver coming the opposite direction? You are not trying to gawk at all the passing drivers or anything, but you just see them?

Holy $#!*. That was her.

Cue need to scream and yell and ohmygodbraketheresanscurvehere.

Not a minute later and I was talking out loud.

Radio off.

"How can someone do that? How? It's not right. Just not right. How could she do that to me? The person she seemingly called her best friend? It's just not right. It's not supposed to happen. How can someone do that?"

"That" being betraying a person's trust and commitment.

I started to tear up, slowly.

Maybe two-three minutes later, turning onto another road with the dreaded 45 degree driving...I started crying. Small, racking sobs. More quiet yells of "why?"

"She can go live her life now. Without a single care. She doesn't realize the pain I have to deal with. She can go on living like things are just fine. I can't. Why?"

Possibly avoid an accident due to an SUV's note of how close I am to the yellow line. My eyes were too blurred.

45 degree driving.

Stop sign. Don't forget the stop sign. Didn't forget it.

Turn onto residential street. Wonder if walker will see me crying.

Realize.

"...because of this...I don't know who I am anymore."

Same rhythm of self-talking as before.

Pull up to house.

Flip down mirror to patch the damage. Act like I'm trying to get out an eyelash as I clean up mascara spots. (Bodily win for there actually being an eyelash, as I started the act.)

Open door. Dingdingding. Grab forgotten keys.

Get stuff.

Go inside.

Everything is fine. Really. I'm fine.