DMV

A Story by Elizabeth La

A short on a trip to the DMV years ago.

DMV

I believe some things were meant to happen. What if there are alternative realities, where strangers are lovers, and enemies are friends? Perhaps our reality has happened before, but differently. A case to case situation, and our present reality is just one of the infinite possibilities out there. As mere witnesses of this curiosity, we can only hope to get our happy ending.

"Permit, application, registration, please and go to line number 36." The old balding man behind the counter said dully. He had a kind face despite his lack of a smile. I turned around to leave for the car. Chris, my brother sees me exit. He had a questionable look on his face, confused as to where I was going.

"What are you doing?" He asked me. I told him.. After helping me search, we drew up our Suzuki's registration and an expired insurance. We went back inside, ditching the line and heading straight for the lobby. We began scanning the numbers for #36. 26, 28, 30, 32, 31, 34, 35, 36... Found it.

A lean man-boy with chestnut hair, baggy skinny jeans, and a young girl tugging at his hand, leaned against the counter talking to a Vietnamese DMV worker. His daughter, I thought. I stood behind him in line. He was attractive. Handsomely bold facial features with possibly green or blue eyes. His hair was long and pulled into a tight ponytail that wrapped above his head like a man bun. Ahh, god I hated this. This feeling of not feeling beautiful and inferior in the land of superficiality. I looked away, anywhere to distract myself from gazing and admiring him. I didn’t want to stare. It might’ve came off creepy. But what about appreciating beauty? I thought to myself. Being courteous came first.

"Next in line please," a woman behind the counter chimed. Two people with my skin color move forward. I was next. The man-boy turned to leave, holding his daughter's hand. God, I wished that was his sister. But alas, who brings his sister to the dmv? Oh wait, well, when she's not taking her driving test.

"Robert, is it the Nissan or the... " a name of another car I was unfamiliar with.

"The Nissan."

Hmmm, so his name was Robert.

I knew this guy. Why did I feel like I knew him? A dream? Or was I simply wishing I knew him- something that would never happen. He turned and left. Robert. Goodbye, you beautiful stranger that I would never meet.

In the alternative Universe, I had known him. We shared a laugh, talked, and befriended each other. Today, not a single glance was given my way. Everything I saw was living not in memory, but through the outskirts of an empty delusion and dream. Almost as though I had gone crazy through my own imagination. Why do I know that boy? Why do I feel like I want to know that boy? It was a grim reminder that there are more lives than my own to uncover. He has a daughter. A story hidden behind his mysterious eyes of color, and thick, beautiful chestnut hair.