I sat down and although it seemed completely safe, I fished inside my pocket. If there happened to be any attack from him, the jagged edge of my house key would definitely cause some damage to his face and arms. His being surprised would give me a chance to escape.
He started the engine and I quickly explained the route.
“I really appreciate that you stayed with us and talked to the police… I think you’ve definitely fulfilled your duty as a citizen. I’m not entirely sure why you’re offering me a ride right now.”
He looked awkward. “I was testifying against you…”
“But it was my fault. I was the one who caused the accident. All you did was tell the truth and I wouldn’t want you to do anything else.”
“Even so, I feel a bit guilty.”
I blinked. “Definitely not as much as I do… Left here and at the next intersection turn right,” I announced and then continued: “It could have taken a much worse turn.” I shuddered just thinking about it.
“Sometimes accidents just happen.”
“Not to me,” I objected. “I always pay attention when I’m driving and I’m always careful.” I slouched my shoulders and felt a strong urge to tell him about all the hardships of the last few days. But he was a stranger, and I didn’t need his pity… maybe just his understanding. “I’ve had a terrible week. I wasn’t paying attention… I didn’t even see the red light.”
For a while it was quiet apart from my instructions. In the end it was him who broke the silence.
“Have you ever heard about pay it forward?”
I vaguely remembered a movie featuring a small boy, and that he dies. Sad. “Someone does you a favour and to say thanks you have to help someone else. Is that what you mean?”
He nodded and smiled again, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth. “It’s not just favours. You could also apply it to the bad stuff that happens to you… or that you cause.”
I frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“You caused an accident today,” he said matter-of-factly and it didn’t sound at all like he was reproaching me for it. “Why don’t you do something good to make up for it?”
“Like what?” It felt silly to keep clutching the key as a possible self defence weapon. The man next to me was apparently some kind of a saint, he clearly wasn’t about to pounce on me.
“I don’t know, that’s up to you. It can be anything… Buy lunch for someone who doesn’t have money. Mow your neighbour’s lawn. Put back trolleys left around a supermarket car park by selfish people who didn’t feel like pushing them back to the trolley bays. Tell people they look nice… or just stop and talk to them. You’ll make their day.”
I immediately thought about the Animals and Environment Protection Association and the missed phone calls I reacted to with silence.
“The list goes on and on,” my driver continued. “Choose whatever you like.”
“Actually, I already know what I’ll do,” I said resolutely and a little expectant wave of excitement washed over me, a welcome change from the grief and fear of the last few days.
“Really?” He sounded like someone who didn’t expect much and indeed rarely got much from others; he seemed genuinely pleased by my willingness.
He carried this sort of religious vibe, trying to recruit others to his faith. I may be an atheist, but I understood it. There was so much cruelty in the world, it made sense to at least partially even the score with good deeds.
“Really,” I assured him, and while we were turning into my street, I realised: “You’re doing it now, aren’t you? You’re repaying somebody’s kindness by helping me?”
He hesitated for a second. “Maybe.”
He might as well have said a definite yes, and I finally understood his unusual willingness to help, not only at the scene of the accident, but also later. I wondered what kindness had been shown to him, that he’s helping me to this extent, but it seemed inappropriate to ask.
“Here we are,” I woke up from my contemplations. “Number thirty one.”
I thanked him for the ride and his understanding. It was only after the tail lights of his car disappeared around the corner, that I realised I don’t even know his name.
Frank
Connie was late and it wasn’t like her at all. I rarely ever asked her to keep me updated, but since we started living together again, she phoned me if she got delayed. Just so I didn’t have to worry.
So now I was worried. I kept abandoning whatever game Ruby and I were playing every couple of minutes to peak out of the window, just to check if I see Connie’s car.
The afternoon slowly turned into night. I tried calling her number several times, but it went straight to voicemail. Am I being ridiculous? Like a mother hen who cannot rest before she’s counted all her chicks? I tried being calm, but there was an unease in me I couldn’t shake.
It was half past eight when I nearly did the one thing children hate their parents doing. I was about to call Emma’s number to ask about Constance–maybe they went for a drink after work and forgot to mention it–when I finally heard humming of an engine and voices outside.
I peeked out through the gap in the curtains. It was a strange car that left after a brief moment. Somebody drove my daughter home? Where was her car?
Connie was standing frozen on the driveway, so I walked out and stood next to her.
“I had an accident, Dad,” she said in a tight voice, and started crying. She hid in my arms, let herself be hugged and sobbed for a while.
I didn’t want to make it harder for her, so I didn’t mention how worried I was, and that to hear about her crash was like being punched in the face. She told me how it happened, and my stomach twisted.
“Thank God
