story: 7/1/2020

"move, you fuck!"

i am screaming in futility at the car immediately in front of me- a black toyota pickup truck. of course, there's nowhere for that truck to go, as it is just the tail end of a column of cars that stretches on into the distance, on the junction between the moanalua freeway and the h1. a part of me understands this, but most of me is just filled with an anxious rage, needing a target. hence, the outburst.

i don't look to my right, to my sister, who is sitting in the passenger side. maybe i'm afraid that if i do, some of that rage will seep out to her. it's because of her, after all, that i'm stuck in this traffic. it's because of her that i may not get back in time, back to-

"holy fuck!" i shout out. "no fucking way!"

there's one of those sporty-looking, tricked out race cars trying to cut in front of me. i hit the accelerator to close the narrow gap between myself and the truck. i successfully close block the car, and flash a glance at the punk in the driver's seat, who's caught angled across the lane strip, unable to proceed.

"rand," says my sister hesitantly. closer to the car i've just cut off, i suppose she takes the brunt of the hostile energy coming off of it. "calm down."

i don't even want to reply. i'm afraid that if i do, i might say something that i'll regret.

there's a tense silence, during which i grip the wheel hard, my eyes burning like the taillights in front of me.

"can you tell me about grandma?" kristine asks finally. "how was she?"

i want to explode at first, but stop myself. i take a deep breath, and let it out long and slow. my voice, when i respond, is quiet, if somewhat constrained. "not good," i say. "she was in a coma when i left. something about how her heart is really weak. and how her bowels are obstructed, like really obstructed, and all the feces and stuff is coming back the wrong way and toxifying her blood."

kristine is quiet after my clumsy report. i don't look at her, but i hear some soft sniffling, and i know that she is crying. i feel my anger softening a bit, but i shake my head and cling to it. it's the only thing keeping me together right now.

"did she- did she say anything about me?" kristine asks shakily.

i can't stop myself from retorting. "of course not!" i shout. i still keep my eyes on the road, because if i didn't they'd be flashing crazily and violently, and i can't let myself lose that much control. "i told you! she's in a fucking coma." i should have stopped there, but i didn't. "and why would she?" i added quietly, like a hidden knife.

kristine sobs, louder now.

i shut my eyes, sigh, deflating. "i'm sorry," i mutter clumsily. "i shouldn't- i shouldn't have-"

"that's okay," kristine murmurs in reply. and then her voice takes on a bit of an edge. "why would she care about a fuck up like me?"