The Road

A Story by dennis

A drive on a stormy night.

The Road

The lights of the big sedan showed a shiny black ribbon of road that cut through the inky darkness of the downpour. I had dropped the speed of the car to fifty-five and strained to see the highway during those split-seconds when the wipers cleared the windshield.

The raindrops that fell from the sky were the size of golf balls, and in my headlights they appeared to bounce as they hit the road. The big sedan was usually silent when she cruised, but tonight, the rain drummed on its roof like the tapping of a thousand nervous fingers.

The minutes crawled by in the endless drive in the rain; but the rainstorm that surrounded me was only three hours old. On the loneliest stretch of two-lane blacktop found anywhere, it would be two hours before I reached home.

It was late and I was tired. I drove with the nervous giddiness that comes with knowing that something bad could happen at any moment.

I had given up on the radio. With the storm there was nothing to be heard but static; or the occasional sharp electrical crackle that reminded you of the power contained in this rainstorm.

The intermittent flashes of lightning lit the landscape in stark shades of black and white. In the lightning strikes, I could see slick dark trees that lined the roadway, which danced and swayed in the winds, like creatures of another world that celebrated this cloudburst.

I felt the dampness under the arms of my jacket. I loosened my tie, breathed deep, and willed my nerves to calm. The big car's climate control was outmatched by the humidity; and I felt even more uncomfortable in the pervasive clamminess.

I glanced at the dash clock, irritated by the thought that on a normal day I would have been home in bed by now. Two weeks ago, Uncle Ernie had scored big in a business deal. Big enough, that he thought it called for a family gathering.

Uncle Ernie lived five hours away from me, and typically I would have blown off the party. This time, some close family members had played enough guilt cards, I couldn't twist out of it. As it happens with these things, I’d started for home much later than I’d planned.

It’d rained with a vengeance for a couple of hours before I could band-aid together enough excuses to leave. The weather guy on Uncle Ernie's television had talked about opposing fronts, alerts and warnings, and he’d promised heavy rains for the next twenty-four hours.

I didn't like driving in the rain, or at night. But, the big car would get me home if I did my part. She was a stable platform that hugged the road, and ironed out the bumps, and did it all in style with that big motor of hers. If I did my part, I didn't worry that the car would do its part.

The map light on the passenger side of the sedan snapped on. She had decided to read a book by the dim beam of the little bulb. Rainstorms made her nervous; nervous like anyone gets when they're not doing the driving in a tough situation.

I stole a quick look, and noticed those knees that peeked out from the hem of her black evening dress. Encased in nylon, the smooth skin of her legs glowed ivory and golden in the map light.

She held the book in both hands. Hands that were large for a woman; well-formed, with fingers that ended in flawless oval nails polished red.

I caught her perfume; sandalwood, orange and other exotic notes. Perfect, just like she was. There was no way a gorgeous creature like this should be with a slug like me.

Other thoughts, thoughts that had nothing to do with driving, invaded my mind. I shook them off and concentrated on the dark rain-slicked road.

I tried to lighten the mood. "Don't worry, I'll get us home if I have to drive with one hand on the wheel and my other hand on my dinkus."

I heard a soft chuckle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her lower her book.

She had this wonderful low voice; this time it had a playful quality to it. "You keep both hands on the wheel. If anyone needs to hold your dinkus, I'll do that."

She rested her hand on my knee for a moment. I felt the soft warmth of her palm, and I started to breathe a little faster.

I stared straight ahead at the road. I cleared my throat. "You know, it will probably come to that."

She chucked again, and again I heard those perfect musical notes. "I know that."

This time her hand moved twice up and down my thigh. For a split-second, I involuntarily pushed the gas pedal harder; then backed it off.

I turned to her. "Thanks Grandma, you're the best."