"Road to Ruin"
6:31 PM
It's a strange thing when blood pours from your face.
All signs had pointed to the kid that day. I woke up and put on a Dictators record-- the first record he had pulled out of my collection to play. I got to work and promptly put on a Kinks VHS then followed it with David Bowie. I glanced up at the screen-- Mick Ronson, the kid had put on 'Slaughter on 10th Avenue' while I cut his hair in the bathroom.
"And on guitar, it's not Suzi Quatro. It's Mick Ronson!" Bowie announced.
I was Suzi, always had been, even before Jose nicknamed me, 'Leather Tuscadero'.
Kevin handed me a magazine with a spread on The Runaways movie--the kid had made me watch the film, twice, thinking that the more that I saw it the more that I might like it.
"I have a weird feeling about today," I confessed to Kevin, "Like something is going to happen."
As I priced CDs in the backroom, I opened up one with the words,
'I want you to know that there is always hope.'
Printed across the disc.
I took an uneasy breath.
What did any of this mean? What was going to happen?
The psychic. The neon psychic. I would see if the psychic was open after work and have my cards read--the kid was going to take me to a psychic for my birthday, I wouldn't let him.
Stop it.
I stared at the clock. I fidgeted something awful. I shifted my eyes to the pin up of Pete and Carl jumping in the sea. I looked at the calender-- I had four weeks to figure out how to get to London. My passport was being processed, my ticket to Reading hadn't come in the mail, Carl Barât hadn't written me back and I only had about one third of the money for a plane ticket--most of which had been donated in $20 increments by friends and kind strangers.
I wasn't even supposed to be doing this alone. The kid was supposed to go with me... but the kid had backed out, changed his mind, wouldn't speak to me and I couldn't understand why--how in a matter of hours did I go from being someone that someone was in love with to the last person that someone would speak to?
The psychic.
I looked back at the clock.
After work I drove by the psychic with a hopeful heart only to see that the neon lights were off and the 'closed' sign was up. I drove a few blocks down to the abandoned apartment complex. I got out of the car and walked as close as I could to the property before bitter sickness set in. Our first date the kid and I had jumped the fence. I took a picture of the building and set it as the background of my phone. I turned to walk back to my car only I saw the kid's car-- not his car, really, but one identical to it.
I needed answers--who had answers--grandma had answers. She always had answers.
I called her as I eyed up the twin car.
"I was hoping I could come out for coffee?"
"Right now?" She asked, taken aback.
"If it's okay? I can be there in 30 minutes."
"It better take you an hour. Drive safe."
**
"I just don't know what any of this means. I don't understand any of it-- why it happened."
"I feel total peace about this, Morgana."
My grandmother was one of the few people who called me by my birth name and used it at every possible opportunity. After the kid had met her, he tried getting away with calling me 'Morgana' as well.
"You need to have faith."
"I'm trying-- it just hurts so bad."
"Don't let it. Everything here will stay here. You only need to focus on London. Have you bought your plane ticket?"
"I can't afford it. It's just-- I'm trying to look forward to London. I'm trying so hard but even London doesn't seem important compared to this."
"Morgana, ever since you were a little girl, you've lived your life to please other people. Now it's time that you live for you. What do you want to do? London is something for you. Enjoy it. Please."
"I don't even know if I can go at this point."
"We'll get you there," She took my hand, "Besides. You never know what's going to happen. Maybe the best friend that you've ever had is in London just wandering around waiting for you to show up."
I smiled, "Maybe."
She let go of my hand.
"Have you heard from the guitarist, yet?"
She was referring to Carl. It had been weeks since I had written to Carl and I was beginning to wonder if that miracle had meant nothing after all.
Everything seemed to mean nothing.
"Not yet."
"Don't lose hope, kid. You will."
I want you to know that there is always hope.
"I should head home," It was after 10pm. No one's grandma should be kept up past 10pm.
"You can stay the night here," She offered.
"No thank you. I have to work in the morning. I'll call you when make it home."
"I'll be waiting by the phone," She hugged me, "Don't you be sad. Everything is super good. We're promised a better tomorrow."
I made it ten miles from my grandma's house before I remembered that I was out of coffee for the next morning. I pulled into a store off of the freeway.
The store was under construction and their coffee selection was slim, all pre-ground and in cans. I had once promised the kid that when I got my own place I would stop buying coffee in cans. I walked out of the store empty handed.
There was a girl in the parking lot having an argument on her cell phone. I laughed to myself and thought about how drama was boring. I had a mental picture of the kid, tugging at the front of his hair and peeking out from under a paisley sleeve was a tattoo that stated 'Not Bored'.
I tried to shake the thought as I climbed into the car.
There is always hope.
What was there to hope for?
I had only been at the red light for a second before I saw the headlights in my rear view mirror. They were not slowing, there were not stopping, they-- I remember the sound more than I remember the feel of the impact. A horrific crashing noise. Crushed metal and shattered glass.
The glove compartment flew open and spilled its contents onto the passenger's seat, CDs slid across the floor, the sun visor fell from the roof and hit my face.
I pulled the car into a parking lot. That's when I noticed the blood, a steady stream from the nose. I was puzzled as I stared down at it on my fingertips. Warm blood. It didn't make sense. This didn't make sense.
What did this mean?
I found a tissue on the floorboard. I tried to get out of the car. My door wouldn't open. I tried again and again and again...I crawled over the passenger's seat and out that door.
"Are you okay?" The other driver questioned me.
I was dazed, dizzy.
"I don't know. Yes. I think so. Are you?"
"We're fine. More worried about you."
"Are you bleeding?!" The passenger from the other car asked before her panic set in, "Oh God, She's bleeding."
"Maybe you should sit down," The other driver insisted to me.
"I don't know," I leaned against my car and tilted my head back to control the bleeding. The sky was clear. There were a million crystal stars.
"I'm sorry," The other driver said, "It was our fault. It was completely our fault. Are you sure that you're okay?"
"I've, uh, never been in an accident before. What do we do? Are we supposed to call someone?"
Within minutes the police and paramedics arrived. Statements were given. The police officer took one look at my car and asked if I had anyone who could come pick me up. My car would have to be towed to a lot.
"My grandmother," I groaned after I said this, "I really don't want to have to call her about this."
She answered after two rings. She had been waiting by the phone as promised.
"I'm okay but there's been an accident."
Grandma showed up with arms open to hug me.
"Are you okay?" She asked, concerned.
"I'm fine," I insisted.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine."
"Where's your car?"
I walked her over to the crunched up Volvo. Her green eyes grew wide.
"London," She whispered upon sight, "Morgana, you aren't going to buy another car to replace this. This is how you're going to buy a plane ticket to London."
2 comments
put your head forward, not back. if you put it back the blood runs into your stomach and makes you sick. forward it clots faster. bloody noses suck. I used to get em all the time so i'm all pro.
ReplyDeleteIt's crazy how bad things can morph into good things. so glad you were not injured any worse... and elated that you made it to London!
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