The streetlamps ended as soon as the road turned into highway and snaked around and over the evergreen dense mountains. Alan gripped the steering wheel of the old Ford sedan with two hands and drove at a pace adequate enough to keep up with the luminescent road signs, which slipped past his headlights one after the other.
He wiped his thick, gray mustache and stubby chin with one hand and looked at the passenger seat, where Simon slept with his mouth open. He had a blanket curled snugly around his fists and a closed bottle of arthritic medication in his lap.
The car approached the top of a steep mountain and on that horizon the sky glowed faintly. Alan wiped his mouth and mustache again. The old Ford sedan rocked suddenly and the front tire blew out jerking the front end of the car to the right. Meanwhile the glow over the mountain road intensified and formed into a definite concentration of light.
Alan over corrected the car and stomped hard on the brake. Simon’s eyes opened and he spread out his arms. The speeding pickup truck sailed over the mountain horizon and wailed and smoked as the woman driving tried to stop fast enough to avoid the inevitable.
Simon’s hand pressed against Alan’s arm just before the sound of metal pierced his ears and Alan’s arm loosed from his touch and crashed into the windshield above the steering wheel.
###
The carpeted living room floor was dotted with spills and crumbs and no one sat in any of the furniture. The few remaining mourners stood in pairs and trios and held small paper plates and plastic cups of wine.
Simon sat on the long couch facing the length of the room. His right eye was bruised where he knocked into the door and his nose had a small bandage applied over the bridge. He clasped his hands in front of him, across his knees.
Simon rubbed his good eye. There, his eyelid felt soft and loose, like the skin over his hands. He took a deep breath and rubbed his temples.
James strode across the room with long legs and sat on the couch beside Simon. His white hair burst wild and long from his head like a turn of the century composer. James pulled his long arm around Simon’s shoulders.
“Thanks Jim,” Simon said.
“I didn’t expect any of this,” said James. His hands pulsed slightly. He grabbed the top of Simon’s knuckles and squeezed.
James had kind, owlish eyes and long, gray clouds for eyebrows.
“Is there anything you need?” said James.
“For what?” said Simon.
James’ eyes welled and the two men sat together for a while.
“I’m just still in such shock,” Mary Gracehold said. She held her lap dog, a white shih tzu named Petey, close to her chest.
“Thank you Mary. You’ll be fine,” Simon said.
James spoke after Mary walked away.
“I’ll have to get going soon you know,” he said.
“Stop kidding around, Jim. You just got here. You’re not leaving this early, right?” Simon said.
James looked at Simon and sighed.
“I could stay a little bit more I suppose,” he said. “But then -”
Janey Franck left her guest, a man much younger than her, a short distance away when she approached Simon.
“It’s all so terrible. How do these things happen?” she said. She put her fingers in her mouth while she spoke.
“Maybe we all deserve them Janey. I don’t know. I don’t know but thank you for coming,” said Simon.
“You shouldn’t say things like that Simon. No one deserves this to happen,” said James.
“There has to be some reason, some plan,” said Simon.
“Simon I’ll be right back here. I just have to go pick up the others. I’m sorry,” James said.
“No, wait a little longer Jim. Please wait with me. They’ll all wait. They’ll understand, won’t they?” Simon said.
“I hope they catch the bastard who did it,” Terry said. He stared fiercely at Simon with his one eye. The other was covered with a patch and his husband, a stout man named Daniel supported Terry’s weight with his shoulder.
“They know who did it Terry. It was an accident. Oh got Terry. And that woman! How is she going to lead a normal life now? She has kids you know,” Daniel spoke to Terry and Simon and James and anyone else who might be listening.
“What’s that?’ Terry said.
“The woman, Terry,” Daniel said.
“Thank you guys,” Simon said.
“Fellas, could you keep Simon company for a while,” James said.
“Jim no! I told you not to go. What are you doing? How could you go?” Simon said.
“Oh dear,” Daniel said, pressing his fingers together.
“Do you want anything to drink?” said Gary Cheng, who happened to just come over, flushed from his own wine.
“No goddamnit. I don’t want any drink Gary. Thank you,” Simon said. “How dare you leave me now, Jim. You heartless old…”
“He says he wants a drink?” Terry said.
“No darling, I do,” Daniel said.
“So get him one,” Terry said.
“Simon this was the plan. I have to go pick everyone up at the airport. You said you didn’t want to come. We can shut everything down here and you can drive with me if you like,” James said.
“Just go,” Simon said. “Get out of our house.”
A few guests filed out of the room. James picked up his scarf and snaked his long arms into his coat. He opened his arms to Simon and leaned forward to hug him but Simon pushed him away.
“They’ll be stranded, Simon. I’ll be back with everyone in a few hours,” James said.
Simon watched James leave the room. His face felt hot and his breath was heavy.
“Are you going to be alright?” Daniel said.
“Yes,” said Simon. “Now get out of here. Everyone! Stop free loading and get out of this house.”
“What happened?” Gary said to Daniel.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Daniel said. “Somebody is starting to get rude.”
“You’re goddamn right,” Simon said.
He got off the couch and walked to the front yard. He watched everyone drive away while he stood next to the enormous RV parked in the driveway. Though it faced the garage now instead of the street, the banner was still up over the windshield. It was painted in large, purple letters: “The World We Can Drive or Bust!”
Simon walked quickly inside and shut the door. He was out of breath.
The living room, the house, was empty now and Simon was left alone with the air around him, without the promise of Alan anymore.
The maps on the wall in the den were useless. The extra bottles of wine from the reception were useless. So was the food in the refrigerator, the breakfast nook in the kitchen, the bed upstairs, the clocks on the walls, the television, and the books – all useless now.
Simon walked through the kitchen door leading to the back yard garden. Twilight leaned heavy on the sky and squeezed color out of the horizon. It was a wide scene from their treeless yard. He walked with his hands at hip level and spread out his fingers. Flower petals and delicate leaves brushed across his palms.
He spotted a rat hole near the back fence and imagined the creature running free among the foliage.
The garden, though useless, persisted. Simon grabbed the petals from two bunches of lavender on either side of his body and yanked as hard as he could. The flowers stripped loose in his hands but the thread-like stems sliced across his palms without giving.
He held his fists close to his stomach and bent over. Blood trickled over his knuckles and stained his shirt.
The moon appeared low on the horizon that evening. It was a full copper disk much larger than usual. Simon opened his hands and blew on his palms. He stood upright and held his fingers open over flanking clusters of soft petals. He looked up at the sky and closed his eyes.
He imagined stepping into that RV and heading down a long, straight highway through an inverted cone of light with no turns. He imagined the flowers of their garden growing unnaturally wild and enveloping the walls of the house.
Tears streamed over Simon’s old cheeks. Alan’s image faded in his mind’s eye. The overgrown living bouquet of flowers faded in his mind’s eye. Everything in his imagination faded and there was only the black of his closed eyelids remaining still under drifting clouds of sadness.
Simon opened his eyes and it was night and he was alone in his garden and he didn’t know what he was going to do the next day or the next hour. Time had finally returned to being the mystery it had been for him a great many years ago: before adulthood, before consciousness, before hope.
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