Back Seat Driver

    I felt compelled to go for a ride along with my two young friends, Mara and Adison. I guess you could say that I was going to be their backseat driver. Most people, a few friends included,

Call me Elias; others call me oddities with slanted meanings, none of which I can speak of now.

I usually don’t put myself out there in human form, but in this case, I knew it was necessary. 

    We happened to be hanging out at Mara’s house on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The scent of a brisk fall day was wafting through the air, mingled with piles of nixed hardwood leaves and the last cutting of dried lawn grass. But I sensed gloom and despair, which is always the weight I must tote when I’m on the job. I mean, I was getting bad vibes from both.  Something was a trifle off; I just couldn’t put my finger on it.  Both seemed nervous and fidgety, but at the same time a stern determination glazed over their eyes…

    Wherever we were headed, Mara had to drive. For sure she loved her 1970 Buick; besides, she was the only one with a license. Adison hesitated, but then slid in on the passenger side; he would always sit up front- he had shotgun, so to speak. Lucky me, I got to carry the backpack which Mara had prepared earlier that morning.  She told Adison and me it was a picnic lunch, complete with all the goodies we craved, and we could munch ’em down as soon as we got to Moss Valley Lake.  Deep down I knew that’s where we were headed.  Whenever iffy situations arose, and tensions ran high, that’s where Mara and Adison always spun off to…  Just drop everything and take a little trip to the lake for some r & r, which was only twenty minutes from Mara’s house, up in the foothills at Logan Station, Pa.

     Man, that ride was eerie; chills pricked my spine and my resolve. Myra and Adison’s faces had a cold, washed - out look of do-or-die. I’d been down this gravel road before.  I couldn’t tell if they had been fighting or, as they say, stoned? It seemed lately that I was always caught in the middle of their disputes. We pulled into the boat launch area up on the north side of the lake, and parked away from the beaten path, and under the cover of blueberry bushes just as the sun was starting to disappear behind the towering hemlocks. Only a few feet away, a family of raccoons moseyed out from the end of a hollow tree trunk, heading straight for the lake edge. I guess it was supper time. It looked like this was a popular spot, as they say, for getting your rocks off, as small balloons peppered the area! At first, I wanted to take a jaunt around the lake to release my pent-up energy…

    Sternly, Mara said, “Give me that backpack now!”  So I did. She handed it to Adison, who fumbled through it, then with a shaking hand removed a cold-black utensil.  The two of them talked in low, nervous whispers.  I couldn’t make out just what they were talking about, but their edgy mood was starting to tick me off. Slowly and blindly, I edged my hand up to the car latch; I heard it click.  Locked! Mara had locked me in! I sat back in my seat with arms folded and teeth clenched; it was my defense mode!  Suddenly, a loud muffled pop!!! Like the sound a balloon makes, it still rattles me to my core.  Adison slumped down, melting into his seat; life pumping out with every fading heartbeat, draining onto the leather seat, then dripping onto the floor mat. His left arm quivered, hanging limp over the armrest.  Without hesitation, I reached and clutched hold of his hand.  I needed to feel, needed to know, without understanding any of it.  One glimpse at Mara told the whole story.  With only a slight glance in my direction, I saw that her face was granite- white; she sobbed bitter tears of gloom and finality; Trembling, she fumbled for the pistol lying on Adison’s lap.  A quick gasp, and another pop!!! I'm not an arctic devil by any means; I totally feel people’s emotional pain - now more than ever!

     Without thinking, in one desperate move, I pried the pistol from Mara’s clenched fingers, knocking it onto her floor mat.  Then I held onto both their pulsating hands, as that dagger of death twisted deep in my gut ...  Just long enough to let me know that I had received their spirits and could return Mara and Adison to their “Maker”- by means of the tunnel of light.  But that night and others like it heap unbearable remorse on me. So, I held onto their hands a little longer than most of my clients, though they didn’t realize; I stood in the gap for them, in that they considered me a friend… After all, I was their backseat driver… 

‘Elias the Caretaker’