I
thought of this story when I was driving down State Road 44 into New
Smyrna. The traffic is horrible at certain times of day, particularly
in the summer. I can't remember now why I was there, rather than
taking I-95. There had to have been a good reason for it, because
it's usually a drive I avoid. In any case, this story, Driving Blind,
was born as I languished in traffic.
It
had been an indescribably horrible day. Zenobia drove with the top
down, listening to Battle Without Honor or Humanity at full
volume. Her red VW Beetle zipped along Interstate 95, her
sun-streaked blonde hair billowing behind her like a standard.
She
pulled off at the New Smyrna, eastbound exit, slowing way down for
the sharp curve. Checking traffic, she eased her VW into the flow
heading toward town. At the stoplight on the east side of I-95, she
slowed as the light changed to yellow. She could have driven through,
but there was a motorcycle cop three cars behind her on the left. She
turned down her music and waited for the light to change. The left
turners eased across State Road 44 and the police officer on the
motorcycle pulled up next to her.
Zenobia
risked a glance at him. She couldn't see much because of the helmet
and glasses, but she saw a strong chin, broad shoulders and tanned
arms covered in silky black hair. She smiled and looked away when he
turned toward her. The light changed and she carefully put the car in
gear, moving forward slowly in the heavy traffic.
As
luck would have it, the next light was also red. Slightly frustrated,
Zenobia checked the traffic to see how badly it was backed up.
Another look out the front window showed the cars were thick ahead as
well as to the rear. The police officer was a car behind her, but
eased up once more, crowding the SUV ahead of him. The driver peeped
over her shoulder guiltily, but the officer did nothing.
Zenobia
felt eyes on her and looked around to see the officer staring at her.
She smiled again, nervously, and flipped her hair to cover her face.
A furtive glance in her rearview mirror showed the officer staring at
her, smirking. He had full lips and a hint of a five o'clock shadow.
Of course, with hair that dark, he probably had a shadow right after
he shaved. What little she could see of his hair was so black, it had
a bluish cast to it.
The
light changed and the car behind Zenobia honked. Flustered, she
forgot to put her car in gear. Scrabbling around, she put it in
first, took her foot off the clutch but not the brake and the car
stalled. More honking followed. Mortified, she got the car started,
put it in gear and jack-rabbited through the intersection as the
light changed to red.
Flashing
blue lights and a whoop of a siren warned her to pull over. There was
an abandoned driveway from a long defunct business. Zenobia rolled
over there, turning off her car. She pulled out her license and
registration, ready for the officer. He was busy on the radio,
calling in her humiliation and probably checking to see if she had
any priors or outstanding warrants. Thankfully, her driving slate was
clean. She lived a steady, boring life. At 29, she lived with her
parents, putting her advanced computer degree to less than great use
working on the Geek Squad at Best Buy. Far from ideal, her
circumstances couldn't be helped. She'd had a lot of difficulty
finding a good paying job in her field that was also close to home.
Feeling
an overwhelming desire to cry, Zenobia put her head on the steering
wheel. “This is the worst day ever!” she sobbed into her lap. She
forced the tears down, but couldn't keep her shoulders from
shuddering.
The
clearing of a deep, male voice got her attention. She looked up in
the the darkest brown eyes she'd ever seen. Black eyebrows arched
over thickly lashed eyes. His nose was almost too big for his face,
but he made up for it by having a square jaw and a cleft in his chin.
He smiled down at her.
Zenobia
handed her license and registration to him. He gave them a cursory
look, jotted something down on a pad with his left hand and gave them
back to her.
“I'm
sorry about the mess back there,” she apologized quietly. “I'm
still getting used to standard.”
“No
big thing,” he replied. His voice was deep, husky and flavored with
a true Southern accent.
“Are
you gonna write me a ticket?” Her voice cracked making her feel
even more foolish.
“You
okay?” He frowned, taking a step closer.
Unable
to control herself another second, she burst into tears. “I'm
sorry. I'm not trying to get out of the ticket by crying,” she
sobbed. “I just don't know what I did wrong and I can't afford a
ticket and I've had the worst day ever!”
Rather
than being sympathetic, he laughed. Zenobia glared at him. He laughed
harder.
“I'm
sorry,” he gasped. “I'm not laughing at you—well, I am—but
not because you're crying. I pulled you over to make sure you aren't
having car trouble. You had such a problem at the light, I thought
maybe your engine stalled. I wanted to get you out of traffic.”
“You—you
aren't giving me a ticket?”
“No.
No.” He chuckled again. “I'm really sorry, Miss Vlachos. I didn't
mean to scare you.”
Zenobia
squinted up at him, surprise replacing worry. “You pronounced it
right. No one ever gets it right.”
©
Dellani Oakes 2015
ToBuy Dellani's Books
This ends my ABC Challenge. Thank you to everyone who followed. I hope you enjoyed this, I wasn't sure I'd be able to pull it off! Please have a quick look at my books. Thank you! Dellani
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