Traffic Life : Passionate Tales and Exit Strategies
Edited by Stephan Wehner
An Anthology
 
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 196                   A Spin of the Wheel  lowed them-come to play, he thinks, away from parents; maybe she will finally speak to him, as he suspects she can.    Nathan, however, isn't so excited. Old enough to under- stand the dangers of the road, though he knows that Pitter often wanders far from their house on her secret feline me- anderings, he is shocked to see her there, so out of place by the busy street. He hesitates, unsure.    Roger takes a step towards the road but Nathan grabs hold of him. 'Wait here,' he says, 'I'm gonna go get her. Just wait here.' He turns and walks quickly away from Roger. When he reaches the crosswalk he looks both ways and sees that the traffic is clear. Just then Pitter starts towards him, stepping gingerly off the curb.    'Stay there, Pitter. Stay.' Nathan has his hands out, motioning to the cat to stop. As they approach each other in the middle of the street the cat lies down and looks up at the boy.    From where he stands, his small shoulders at attention, his brown eyes alert, Roger sees his brother reach down and scoop up the cat. Then there is a sound.    Nathan is saying something to the cat but Roger can't hear him; he looks up, the sound growing, rumbling over him, and sees the driver's eyes. A moment before they were gazing lazily towards the park; now, directed straight ahead, they snap into focus. Roger tries to call out; his mouth opens and closes but makes no sound. He can see the cat's eyes flash amber as she leaps from his brother's arms; he can see the driver's eyes, wide and white, but from here he can't see his brother's bright green eyes.    The sound roars over him, grinding, hurling itself into a screeching fury. Then there is a dull thump.                   .      .    .    .       .  By the time Roger made it out of the Energy building-well past five o'clock, as usual-the rain had slowed to a steady cold drizzle. He climbed into his car and let the engine warm up for a minute before pulling out of the parking lot.    As the car hissed through the growing dusk, he settled in
  
                        Nicholas Wees                   197  to the drive. Twice a day he made the forty minute commute between his house and his office in the Energy building. It was only at this time that he was truly alone and he savored every moment of it.    Throughout the rest of the day, he was in constant de- mand-by his wife, his daughters, his co-workers; every- body needed something from him, he who was always on time, forever ready, perpetually competent and reliable. But now, as daylight dimmed, he could lapse into a contempla- tive state of mind, allow his thoughts to roam; the cares of the day lost their immediacy and drifted into perspective; and though his mind floated freely as he drove, at all times he was physically alert and fully in control of his vehicle. Every reflex was poised, ready for action.    He approached driving the same way he approached ev- erything: he learned its rules so intimately that it became second nature to him. This allowed him to look ahead, to foresee when and where someone or something might de- viate from the rules of the expected. More than inconve- nience, whether minor irritants or major hardships, Roger was committed to warding off the unexpected. As long as he knew what was coming, he was in control.    As he cruised along the highway, his mind would slip away; his thoughts would drift apart, fragmenting into a million shards of consciousness, all peering out into the unknown, familiar scenes replaying themselves with infi- nite variations. While his nerves and muscles continued to function in an automatic and informed way, what had been Roger dissolved into possibility.    And then one tiny spark of consciousness would burst out, growing brighter, expanding, eclipsing all else and a single thought would coalesce, gain materiality, and Roger would come rushing back into being. These thoughts could be of anything, from the mundane to the sublime.    The first thought that materialized in such a way that evening was of his daughter, Kate. She was to take her driv- ing test that day after school. He was amazed that she was old enough to drive and it made him feel sad in a strange way. But he knew she would pass the test without any

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